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bi-writes · 8 months ago

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you don't think ghost likes you very much. (part 2 of this, but can be read standalone) (18+, semi-dark content ahead, ghoap x fem!reader)

he doesn't like you. no matter what you do, what you wear, what you say, you know he doesn't approve of you, not really.

not like johnny.

johnny adores the ground you walk on. his lips are always on you. in your ear, along your neck, against your collarbone. his tongue is warm, and it slides along your jaw, around your fingers, sucking on your skin.

"what a nice gift, LT," he always says. "got the nicest pussy 'v e'er had." and then he puts those eyes on, those big, soft, blue ones, and he asks, "can i keep 'er, LT? can i have 'er?"

and johnny is so good. johnny does what he's asked of. johnny says yes, he never says no. johnny smiles and nods and does what he is told, and so johnny gets to have you.

johnny gets to keep you.

but you are a pet, and you are nothing more, and ghost never lets you believe otherwise. he doesn't even give you his name; it's ghost, and ghost only, and he never touches you. not the way the johnny does.

he competes with you, but it isn't a competition. johnny doesn't listen to you, not if ghost contradicts you. he will win, and he will win every time, and even though you are aware of this, he reminds you, all the time.

"johnny, please--" you sob, and he laughs, rubbing his stubble against your thigh gently. it's wet, because he's slobbered all over your cunt, and your hole pulses because it wants more. "johnnny...j-johnny, please--"

"oh, relax, my little lamb..." he sucks your clit into his mouth gently, suckling on the puckered bud. you whine at that, reaching down, pulling on the long strands of hair down the middle of his head, and he groans. "makin' a right mess..."

you're crying. tears falling down your face, pleasure like fire at the base of your spine and crawling up your back, and you reach up and squeeze the swell of your breasts, pulling on your nipples gently. johnny always gets you here--right at the top of a glorious fucking hill, and when you come down it, he carries you, keeping you high for as long as he can before he tries again and again and again--

"fuck are y' doing?" a rough voice growls. johnny's ripped off of you, his back arching as a gloved hand yanks on his head. johnny grunts, hissing, and you whine when you see ghost gripping him by his neck, holding the back of his head to his chest. "spoiled. you spoil her, johnny."

"she's so pretty, LT...i--"

"you spoil her." ghost tilts his head to the side, and you see his eyes narrow, a harsh glare at you from under the mask that makes you shake a little. "spoil her fuckin' rotten."

he doesn't let you come. he's a selfish motherfucker.

you don't know why he doesn't like you. for all intents and purposes, he chose you. and he had all but asked you to leave. tortured you, yes, but he hasn't asked you to leave. he still wants you here, doesn't he? if he hated you, if he was jealous, if he really disapproved of you, a man such as he would just kick you out, wouldn't he?

johnny and ghost are gone today. you're alone, and you've decided to occupy your time by cleaning. you put away the clean dishes, fold the laundry that was stuck in the dryer, pick up around the kitchen. ghost keeps the place very clean--but they were pressed for time in the morning, so johnny left you with the softest kisses, and ghost with just a grunt.

you're arranging fresh flowers in the living room when you hear the front door shut. you bounce into the hallway, a big smile on your face ready to greet johnny, but you freeze when you see only one big shadow shrugging off his rain jacket.

ghost is by himself, and he rolls out his neck as he toes off his boots. he hangs up his jacket, still not looking at you.

"wot?" he snaps. "cat got your tongue, little rabbit?"

you swallow, shaking your head.

"sorry...i thought...thought it was johnny."

"yeah? and wot? just 'cause it's not johnny, gonna not greet me like y'should, yeah?" he bites. you stand still for another minute before coming towards him. you lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek, but when you pull away, he reaches down and grips your ass tight, forcing your pelvis against his and rumbling low. he snarls a little, and you tilt your head back as he presses the front of his mask against your lips, kissing you through it. "tha'sit. good girl."

a soft sound comes out of you, a moan, a whimper, you aren't sure, but he smacks your ass gently, nodding his head.

"go on," he mutters. "on the couch."

he eyes you as you walk away.

"'n why the fuck are y'wearin' all those clothes?"

your insides warm at that, and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

"oh. sorry." you slide your sweats off and toss them aside. it's then that ghost realizes you're wearing his shirt. he runs a hand over his taut stomach, adjusting himself shamelessly in his jeans as he watches you bend over to get onto the couch. you wear no panties, and he hums under the mask, tilting his head to the side.

"johnny got held up on base," he murmurs, coming into the living room. you take a seat on the couch, looking up at him, squeezing your thighs together.

"so...we're all alone?" you ask. this is your chance. this is the opportunity you have been waiting for. with no johnny to distract him, all he has is you, and he can't ignore you. not this time.

"all alone, sweetheart."

you swallow hard. "why don't you like me?"

the question is blunt and clear. ghost clicks his tongue under the mask, focusing on you, and he shakes his head.

"tha' isn't wot it is."

"then what is it?"

he just stares, and you shake your head. you need answers. you need to know what you're doing wrong--you want to be good.

"not you, luvie. it's my boy, my poor johnny..." you watch as he grips himself through his jeans again, visibly hard as he squeezes his cock over his zipper. "fuckin' annoying when he isn't the center of attention. my attention. you understand, right?"

you watch him, licking your bottom lip.

"b-but...but--"

"turns into a bloody muppet. pouts like a baby." ghost comes closer, leaning over you, gripping your chin gently. "wot, huh? thought i didn't want y'around?" you whimper when he squeezes your face between his big hand, squishing your cheeks. "'n how could i not, yeah? look at ya..."

he growls under the mask.

"y'wet, sweetheart?" he asks, and you lean back, spreading your knees, and he grunts when he sees between your thighs. the skin is wet, soft and slick, and he hums lowly when he sees how you clench around nothing. "wanna taste, luv. give it t'me."

you reach down gently, sliding two fingers through your folds. you whine a little, scooping a nice handful of slick, and then you pick up your fingers for him. he pushes his mask up, and you shiver when you see the wicked grin on his scarred face. then he takes your fingers into his mouth.

he leans over you. his mouth his hot, and you shake a little when his tongue slips over your fingers, warm muscle swallowing as he tastes you.

"fuckin' hell," he murmurs when he lets your fingers go. "know why johnny spends all his time down there, yeah?"

you giggle, arching your back a little, pulling his shirt up.

"ghost...why dont...why dont you come here?" you reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging gently, and he falls over you on the couch. you meet his eyes as you start to unbutton his jeans. "i want you to spend time here, too, y'know."

"tha' right, sweetheart?"

you smile, "y-yeah." you unzip his pants, your jaw falling open when you pull him out. he's so big, nice and girthy and pretty, and the tip is so pink, dribbling precum and just aching for your tongue to taste him. you rub your thumb over the tip, and he hisses. "and...a-and i love johnny..." you look back up into his eyes. "b-but...i..."

he reaches around and fists your hair, growling against your lips.

"need a right beast to fuck this pretty pussy, yeah? need someone to--" you cry out as he yanks your head back, exposing your neck to him. "--fuckin' ruin ya."

you squeal, arching your back, and he chuckles, but it's mean. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

"yah, luv, y'r mine, just as much as johnny--" you gasp when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, "y'belong to me. gonna write my name across your fuckin' cunt, sweetheart, fuck that idea right into your pretty head--"

you cry when he fucks you. when he sits up on his knees, gripping you from under your thighs, fucking into you with a reckless rhythm that leaves your thighs shaking and warm tears coming down your face.

"look at you..." ghost hisses, and you cry more, keening as he stares down at where you're connected and the squelch of you dribbles down his thighs. "bloody hell..."

your back bows, your thighs clamping around ghost's hips as he fucks you into the mattress. you can barely think, the only sensation you can really absorb is the way his thighs smack against your ass and the feel of his big, gloved hands spreading you open.

"just needed me right here, yeah?" ghost grunts, slowing his pace as he nestles his pelvis right against yours. you whine; he's so deep, it hurts, but it hurts so good, you don't tell him to stop, you can't. he's so much bigger than johnny, in every way, and you feel suffocated, but if this is how you die, so be it. getting fucked brainless is not the worst way to go, not like this. you gasp when he smooths a big hand over your stomach, pressing the pad of his thumb to where you know the tip of his cock sits. "right there, luv, tha' place is for me, yeah? 's mine, my spot--"

ghost leans down, growling against your neck, a firm grind of his hips punching your cervix again. you claw at ghost's back, and it's painfully obvious how desperate you are--you nearly rip ghost's shirt in pieces.

"this place is for me," he murmurs, spreading his fingers. he grips your waist in both hands and gives you a hard thrust, leaning his head back as he feels you clench hard. you like it when he talks, he can tell--the sound of his voice has you that much wetter, and he clicks his tongue as he leans back, rubbing a gloved thumb over your pretty little clit. "wanna live here...want ya to be my little pet..." he smirks under the mask when you cry, so sensitive. "whenever i want, want you bent over, spread nice 'n wide f'me." he hums low, "whenever i want, yeah?"

he talks like you aren't there. like he isn't cock-deep inside of you, molding the soft places of your pussy to the shape of him. ghost, despite being a little breathless, has no tremble in his voice despite how hot he feels, and he knows, suddenly, why johnny fawns over you. there is nothing that compares to this--there is nothing quite like fucking this pretty princess, watching her tits bounce, her thighs shake, feeling how soft and lovely she is when he gets her right where she belongs--stupid and cumming.

"a princess ya are, yeah?" ghost chuckles. "a right spoiled one, innit?"

and maybe you are a little spoiled. you had no idea you would be getting two for one--johnny and his looming shadow.

you grip ghost's shirt from the front tight, balling it up in tight fists and pulling him close.

"please!" you squeal. "please, please, please--" you moan and sob against the front of his mask. "w-wanted you for so long--w-wanted--"

"ya did?" ghost tilts his head to the side, picking up the pace. he cradles your head between his arms, pressing his face to yours. "even though i was a bastard?"

you mewl, nodding, reaching down and gripping his lower back as he grinds mercilessly. the curls at the base of his cock are rubbing against your clit now, and you angle your hips to catch the feeling every time, and you know you're getting close. you're there.

"almost said your name--" you gasp. "w-when...when he..."

"poor thing--" he chuckles. "thought johnny was what you wanted?" he knows you like the way he's fucking you, and he slows down, wanting to see your face and every expression you make. "what you needed?"

you nod. "i need him," you whisper. "but it isn't enough."

"no, you're such a greedy bunny--" he grips your face tight, sitting up, and you cry when he fucks you. he's an animal, he's lost control, and you are helpless under him. all you can do is spread your knees wider and moan. "johnny can't tame you, but i can, yeah?"

you meet his eyes, big and soft and wet, and he hisses. the look in your eyes, he cums instantly, falling over you and barely having enough time to put his hand out and catch himself. you gasp at the feeling, reaching down, and with a few soft circles of your fingers, ghost lets out a strangled sound as he feels you tighten and cum. the front of his thighs are soaked, and he nudges your chin up with his nose as he breathes in the scent of you from your neck.

"don't say of word of this to 'im, yeah? got ourselves a jealous little bastard," he murmurs against your ear. you nod, and when he kisses you, you can't help the way you relax. cupping his scarred face, licking into his mouth--ghost is your keeper, and he's johnny's keeper, and you know suddenly why johnny does whatever he says, whenever he wants.

ghost is in charge. he just is, and even though you're just a little, innocent civilian, ghost has given you orders, and you will follow them. there is a soft, aching place inside of you that wants to please him so badly--wants to impress him, show him how good you can be. and you imagine, wonder, if johnny has that same feeling in him, that same little press on the inside of his ribs that screams, be a good boy, a good girl, do just as he says, he'll give such a nice reward.

and when johnny comes home, there you are, all soft smiles and tender touches and little giggles that make his belly hurt so nice. and when he tells you he's hungry, you spread your legs, using two fingers to show him your pretty, wet cunt. and he dives in, like he always does, because one of his favorite places is feeling the rub of your thighs against his stubble and your fingers tugging his hair.

his tongue spreads your folds, and he hums with delight when you fall onto your back, pliant and soft and warm. and then he tastes you, and he swallows, and his eyes flicker when there is something else there, something that he knows.

johnny's eyes dart up, looking over you, and he can see ghost lingering in the doorway, watching, and then johnny understands what it is he tastes--and why he likes it so fucking much, and why it tastes like something he knows.

he meets ghost's eyes, and they look at each other, and johnny knows what it is that he's done, what it is he's eating out of you. but ghost knows johnny is a good boy, and he won't pull away, he won't make a scene. no. johnny pulls back a little, wiping his face.

he smiles. and then he leans in for more.

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gofishygo · 2 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

and you never will.

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moondirti · 7 months ago

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featuring: ghoap x nanny! f!reader. parenthood. adoption processes. fluff. slice of life. reader is given an age range

hear me out: simon and johnny transferring to reserve duty – i.e., serving the military on a part-time basis rather than being on active call – once they make the decision to become dads. it comes after a long period of deliberation (and healing on simon's part), but after they're absolutely sure that they want to start this next phase of life together, they call price to get it sorted.

who is thrilled for them, naturally, but warns that they still have a specialised commitment to the task force. if he needs them, then they best make sure they're there. the world isn't a better place yet, and no one can do what the pair does.

fine by them.

so it begins. instead of the complex and ethical choices that come with surrogacy, they opt for adoption and work with an attorney to facilitate the logistics. months of searching come up with a young mother, whose unwanted pregnancy has interfered with her life thus far, and is unwilling to make the further sacrifice that comes with keeping the baby. they must be more understanding, or otherwise less overbearing, than the other candidates – because two months later, they're in a hospital waiting room, anxiously lingering to meet the new addition to their family.

isla riley-mactavish. named after the river where johnny realised he'd be much happier with his lieutenant by his side.

the first few months are bliss. exhausting bliss, but a type of contentment that neither man has known since they first confessed to one another. isla's fussy through nights but they take turns settling her down, and if they have military duties to attend to then it's usually never at the same time. she's spoiled rotten – not just by them, but by the captain and gaz as well, who visit more often than not with bags full of toys they have nowhere to put. a little princess in the eyes of everyone who knows her.

by month five, she's teething and can hold her head up unsupported. simon reads somewhere that it's one of the most pivotal points in her development.

of course the call has to come then.

in the middle of the night, no less, and loud enough to wake her up from her crib. johnny scrambles to calm the bairn down as simon answers, price's grave voice crackling in from the other end. expected to be a long haul. a month at least. state security's at serious risk here, simon. i wouldn't ask you to come out otherwise.

and they made a promise. no matter how much it aches them to leave their darling girl behind.

rdv on base in a week.

he knows that one week is a matter of grace. he can feel the captain itching to hatch the operation as soon as possible, but has staved off to give the boys time to order their affairs. that doesn't mean simon's happy with the timeline, though. seven days is not nearly enough to find a sitter they can trust, especially given their own hindrances.

regardless, they send a job posting for a live-in, 24/7 nanny to close friends – no way in hell are they advertising it to the open internet – and hours later, johnny's sister lets them know of a girl who substitutes at the same primary school she works at. a real darling, apparently. honest 'n' stowed oot of energy, th' weans love her, and she haes experience with bairns too!

promising, but word of mouth isn't enough. they get a name and ask laswell to run a thorough background check. to their relief, it comes out squeaky clean. no arrests, no dui's, no shady travel history. modest socials with only a handful of followers. it's in line with what they know so far, solid enough to encourage them to reach out. so they do: just a brief email, asking what time and place would be best for a face-to-face interview.

they bring isla with them to the agreed meeting spot. a cozy cafe nestled in one of the safest parts of town. it's an early saturday morning and they're scheduled to leave in three days. so far, they've put all their eggs in this basket. johnny has to hold onto simon's hand when he notices the nerves dancing behind his partners usually void eyes. but if he were being honest with himself, he's just as scared.

they notice you as soon as they walk in.

sitting at a table for four, mug of coffee steaming as you bend over a well-loved book. despite your preoccupation, you're observant – they inch in your periphery and your head snaps up, a brilliant smile parting your lips as you spring up onto your feet. simon tallies a point on the ledger in his head. good. alert is good.

as is true for them, it's abundantly clear that you're who they're supposed to meet. johnny can't imagine anyone but a children's educator dressing like that: a gingham babydoll dress over a pair of blue tights, which carries over to the bow in your hair and is juxtaposed by the white oxford lace-ups on your feet. he startles when you extend your hand to shake his and he finds a painted fruit on each of your short nails. positively adorable. and so unlike anything they know.

simon shuffles next to him. isla reaches out from her bugaboo stroller, the colours having caught her eye.

"well hello there! aren't you just the cutest angel i've ever seen? do you like my dress?"

that's another point for immediately engaging with the object of your soon-to-be care. simon watches as you pull out a rattle from your purse, handing it over to the cooing baby. warmth blossoms in his chest, and his apprehension fizzles out in the heat. they hadn't told you they'd be bringing isla – opting to catch you off guard and seeing how you'd deal – so he assumes you carry the toy around for emergency purposes, like anyone else of their ilk would carry a gun.

something about that quirk just screams safe.

"it is a nice dress." johnny pursues, voice smooth in that way it gets when he's flirting but doesn't want it made clear. it took weeks for ghost to attune himself to it – he always just thought the scot spoke like that – but now that he's able to hear it for what it is, he shoots him a cautionary look. not so much mad as he is cautious. wouldn't want to scare her off.

"oh! thank you very much. it's my grandmother's design." you straighten up once isla gains a proper grip on the rattle, patting the skirt like you're basking in the praise. "shall we sit? i assume you have a lot to discuss, and i promise you'll want to try the maple scones they make here."

"please. after you." simon nods.

an hour later, you're giggling into your palm as johnny deviates into a story of the time they took isla to the hospital because they didn't know the soft spot on her head could pulse. simon is quiet in contrast, though not displeased. rather, he's focused on keeping the tally of all the green flags you've exhibited thus far. he doesn't mind that the conversation hasn't followed a typical interview format. in fact, people are more likely to show their true nature when in relaxed settings such as this, which is perhaps why johnny hasn't stuck to the script of questions they'd prepared beforehand. the man is better at social manoeuvring than simon is, anyway. he trusts him to direct this where it needs to go.

"it can be freaky! especially if you've never been around a child that young. i had a similar reaction the first time i babysat my neighbour's infant at sixteen. did you know that they can break out like teenagers? i noticed the poor thing's skin erupt in acne at just a month old and called his parent's crying." you wheeze, wiping the tears along your lashline.

"have ye worked wi' many bairns?"

"oh, yeah. it's been my primary source of income since secondary, all the way through uni. i just finished a master's degree in early childhood education, actually! and i wrote a list of referrals you can call if you need to double check on any of that." you rummage through your purse and pull out an apple-shaped sticky note. "do you mind if i ask what you do? people don't usually look for a full-time nanny unless they're really busy. not that i'm judging! i would ne–"

"military." simon interrupts, ensuring his tone is gentle enough to reassure.

"that makes sense! i mean, for an indefinite amount of time, the pay you're offering is more than perfect. above industry standard, really." you pause, brows furrowing like you're doubting whether you should have said that. "ah– whatever. anyway. isla is wonderful, just the sweetest. and the provided accommodation is an added plus. if you guys have no other qualms, then i'd love to accept the position."

"does i' bother you that there are cameras on the property? porch, kitchen, and living room. jus' for security's sake." simon tests, though he knows he doesn't need to, for extra measure. to someone with bad intentions, CCTV is a massive dealbreaker.

you don't hesitate before answering. "makes total sense! you guys are well within your right to check in at any time."

and they don't have to consult each other to know. johnny is practically buzzing in his seat, muscles flexed with enthusiasm as his gaze flits all over you. lingering on your chest in particular, before he looks over to simon and smiles in an offensively handsome way. simon can't help but smile back, crinkling his eyes more than necessary so the both of you can tell what's going on behind his mask.

it feels a little too good to be true, hopeful in a way that sets off the alarm bells in his head. he's stable enough to recognise that it isn't your fault, though. stable enough not to pin his distrust on you. this is likely the best shot they've got at ensuring their daughter's safety while they're away, and it's come in the form of a vivid, bright little blessing.

(with great tits.)

he'd be a fool to sabotage it.

johnny beats him to the cause. "ye'r hired."

[ next ]

#fashion wise im pulling from 'new girl' jess and 'me before you' louisa iykyk #as always my shit ends up way too long #fic ༄ miss magic #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #ghoap #simon riley #john mactavish #ghost #soap #x female reader #x reader

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ceilidho · 10 months ago

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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) masterlist

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home).

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep).

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that.

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite.

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back.

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket.

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle.

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed.

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth.

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle.

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him.

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor.

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue.

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later.

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes.

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind.

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself.

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away.

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave.

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder.

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction.

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that.

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

#99% chance im gonna edit this to fuck before i post it on ao3 because im trying to properly balance the pov switch #also its not done yet #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader

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rememberwren · 1 month ago

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I’ve thought of surrogate!reader with Ghoap but lately I’ve been obsessed with the thought of established Ghost/fem!reader with sperm donor!Johnny and it’s a whole new dynamic okay

Another month, another bunch of negative pregnancy tests. I can see you crying in the bathroom when Simon admits that he went and had himself tested even though you both promised not to, and he knows that he’s the one at fault. Sperm ain’t sperming. You’re not the broken one, he is.

Of course you don’t see it that way. But you finally decide to put away dreams of carrying a child of your own and instead start thinking of adoption.

All the people in your life are having children now—Gaz’s second daughter’s first birthday arrives and you’re surrounded by people politely (and not so politely) wondering when it will be your turn to have a baby. “Always asking you, but never asking me,” Ghost says dryly to make you feel better, hand on his stomach. “Maybe I want to carry the baby.”

Even Price has a child on the way—and Kate and her wife don’t want to adopt but they regularly foster. Everybody has kids in their lives.

Everybody except Johnny.

On the way home from the party Ghost brings it up—Johnny was real good playing with the kids. He’s a nice kind of guy. Good genes. Would you like to have his baby, you think? And what? It breaks your brain a little bit. But you can’t stop thinking about it. So one day Ghost has him over and the two guys go out into the yard and talk, and they’re out there for forever it feels like as you wash the same dish over and over again, watching them through the window above the sink, but then they come back and Johnny has agreed. It’s a yes. Anything for you and for his lieutenant. Ghost has saved his life enough times over in the past years; this is just one way that Johnny can pay him back.

At first you all keep it strictly above board. Johnny jerks off in the bathroom into a cup, hands off the specimen and disappears into your living room to let you and Ghost handle the insemination. Cheers.

Ghost doesn’t mean to make it sexy, gently spooning Johnny’s seed inside you—there’s just something taboo and dirty about it that sets you off. Ghost touches you so soft and gently, spreading your folds, playing with your clit, feeding the sperm into your hungry little cunt. And he makes you cum at the end because that wive’s tale is always at the back of his mind, that cumming helps with conception.

And it doesn’t work. The next month you’re devastated—and perhaps just as devastated as you is Johnny. It’s touching, almost endearing the way he takes it to heart so much, feeling like this failure was his own.

Ghost is the one who suggests that the three of you hadn’t done it right. It hadn’t been by the book. Sperm can’t live long outside the human body. The solution is simple: you and Johnny should have sex. You start stammering disapproval of the idea and have listed a whole host of reasons why it’s inappropriate when you notice Johnny’s silence. He’d do that for you. Wouldn’t be a hardship either; you’re a beautiful woman, he’s always thought so. Which is how you end up with your legs wrapped around Johnny’s waist while Ghost sits beside you in bed, reminding Johnny to make you cum. Because it helps.

And the next month, Simon and Johnny are both pacing holes in the floor outside the bathroom while you take your tests. When the door finally opens, you don’t need to say a word. The expression on your face says everything. It worked. You’re pregnant.

That should have been the last and only time Johnny fucked you with Ghost.

But it isn’t.

#ghoap x reader #just thinking out loud

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narcoticv3nus · 2 months ago

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Burning Desire ౨ৎ Simon “Ghost” Riley & John “Soap” MacTavish

Kinktober Day II: Threesome

summary: your boyfriend returns home after deployment, bringing home his other plus one. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, praise, a bit of degradation, anal, double penetration, ghoap, dom!simon, switch!john, sub!reader, alcohol consumption, smoking, cursing, use of pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 4.6k a/n: i’m a little late, but i didn't expect it to be this long. i had also never written a threesome before, so bare with me. sorry if it's bad i panicked.

MASTERLIST

Simon: Coming home late.

The room is shrouded in darkness, with only the soft, bluish glow of the phone's screen cutting through the obscurity. As the familiar ping echoes through the room, you let out a tired groan and shift your weight, reaching out with one arm to find your phone. Your fingers dance over the surface of your nightstand, searching for the device as you roll over onto your side.

Another ping rings out.

Simon: Johnny is staying the night.

As you shifted onto your stomach, you reached for your phone to catch up on your notifications. Despite the late hour, you were undeterred. You’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend's unpredictable schedule and hold no resentment. Trust is the foundation of your relationship, and it goes both ways.

You: Okay. Drive safe.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, feeling the weight of the day's stress bearing down on you. Tossing your phone somewhere onto the rumpled sheets of the bed, you rolled over, pulling the comforter snugly around you, and allowed yourself to sink back into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

The room's quiet was suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching and keys jingling. The distinct click of the front door being forcefully shut filled the air, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise.

As you lay in bed, you could hear the lively chatter of the Scotsman echoing through the walls, emanating from the kitchen. The sound traveled through the house, reaching your ears before your boyfriend intervened and reminded him to lower his voice. Despite the hushed tones that followed, you were already awake.

You let out a weary sigh as you sat in your comfortable bed. As you shifted to the side, your bare feet touched the cold, smooth surface of the wooden floor, sending a shiver up your spine. With a reach, you turned on the lamp, and the previously enveloping darkness of your room was replaced by the gentle, warm embrace of its soft yellow light, casting comforting shadows on the walls.

As you walked out, the soft light from the kitchen illuminated the distinct figure of your boyfriend, Simon. He stood tall and broad, his presence commanding the space. His friend was busy unlacing his boots, sitting on one of your kitchen chairs, while Simon leaned casually against the counter, a faint smile playing on his lips as he engaged in conversation.

You cleared your throat, making your presence known as you observed them with narrow eyes.

They halted their conversation, both turning towards you like they had been caught discussing something that wasn't meant for your ears.

“It’s four in the morning.” You said with your arms folded over your chest, your jaw clenching as you watched both gazes fall to your chest before meeting your face.

“Could you be a little quieter?” You let out a deep sigh of frustration, feeling your chest tighten as you looked down at the pristine white tiles of your kitchen floor, now marred by the unmistakable pattern of dirt and grime left behind by a pair of rugged combat boots. The once immaculate surface now bore the imprint of someone's rugged footsteps, starkly contrasting the pristine environment you had meticulously maintained.

“Seriously, Simon? How many times have I told you–”

“I did miss you, sweetheart.” As your boyfriend approached you, a wistful sigh escaped his lips, indicating a mixture of longing and resignation. His steps were deliberate, almost as if he were lost in thought, paying no attention to the words you had spoken moments earlier.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” As he loomed above you, you couldn't help but feel a mix of apprehension and anticipation. You felt his presence as he leaned in, his hands finding their place on your hips and applying gentle pressure. His face drew closer to yours, and you turned your cheek to him, feeling the warmth of his lips as they made contact with your skin

“I'll clean up the mess, love,” he grumbled, dissatisfied with your reluctance of his affection.

“Good.” You let out a frustrated huff, feeling the weight of your annoyance as you turned to look up at him. As your eyes met him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of softening in your demeanor. The tension and frustration building inside your chest seemed to dwindle as you gazed up at him slowly.

"I missed you too," you replied softly, your heart racing as you met his intense gaze. His lips curled into a satisfied grin, revealing a hint of dimples before they slowly pressed against yours, sending a rush of warmth through your body. His hand gently held the back of your head, pulling you closer, trapping you against him in a tender yet passionate embrace.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but look over Simon’s shoulder to the man sitting at your table with a sly grin, his pale eyes twinkling in humor.

You’ve met John before on many different occasions, some similar to nights like these when they stumbled into your home, sometimes drunk and chattering like a couple of girls over steaming gossip.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that they're a package deal. John, who Simon affectionately calls “Johnny,” is always one step behind him, yapping on and on about something or other. Those two are so different, but they make it work like the sun and the moon.

John had a charismatic way of flirting that seemed to charm everyone around him, including you. Despite Simon's usual protectiveness, he appeared to make an exception for John, allowing him to get closer to you than anyone else. However, it wasn't just you that John interacted with suggestively. There were moments when you noticed the way John looked at Simon, and it seemed to go beyond just friendly admiration. At times, you dismissed it, attributing it to John's flirtatious nature, but there were hints of something more beneath the surface.

“Hi John,” you greeted almost bashfully, embarrassed to be standing in front of him in your night clothes.

With a warm smile spreading across his face, John greeted you in a deep, smooth Scottish accent, "Hey, darlin'. Didnae mean to wake ye up. Hope we were nae too loud, eh?" He flashed a teasing grin towards Simon before turning his attention back to you, eyes scanning your body with a flicker of appreciation. He stood up, revealing his impressive frame adorned in a loose, sleeveless shirt and shorts, showcasing his tattooed arms.

“Well… I’m up now.” You answered, making your way into the kitchen and opening up a bottle of wine to pour yourself a glass before returning to sleep. “Might as well hang out for a little while.” You missed the shared glance between the other two as you brought the rim to your lips.

Chuckling lightly at your comment, John sauntered to the kitchen counter, leaning against it effortlessly. His eyes followed your movements intently, admiring the curves of your figure hidden beneath the loose fabric. As you sipped your wine, he couldn’t help but appreciate your beauty in the dim lighting.

You watched as Simon disappeared into your room, likely changing into something more comfortable as he got ready for bed. You didn't think much of it.

Your attention was redirected as John approached you, casually reaching for the wine bottle, pouring himself a generous glass, and raising it in a toast. "To us, eh?" He clinked his glass gently against yours, maintaining eye contact. "Simon's a lucky bloke to have ye," he said sincerely before siping. John traced his fingers along the rim of the glass, enjoying the sensation of the cool glass against his skin as he waited for your reaction. His free hand rested on the counter, only inches away from yours.

You felt your heart race as you glanced downward, acutely aware of his proximity before locking eyes with him. His piercing, icy blue eyes sent shivers down your spine and ignited warmth. "Thank you," you whispered, moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue, your voice barely above a breath.

You watched his eyes flicker downwards before meeting your eyes again, a knowing grin on his face. He reached up, rubbing his jaw as he looked down at you. You conversed for a few minutes, the tension in the air increasing as your body grew warmer with anticipation. You couldn't care less about the questions he was asking you, only entranced by the softness of his gaze and the sultry allure of his voice.

The room fell silent as Simon reentered, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you with a hint of knowing amusement. Despite the subtle flicker of emotion in his eyes, his expression remained stoic and unreadable, revealing nothing of his thoughts or intentions.

John raised his glass in a silent salute, acknowledging his presence without breaking eye contact with you. He took another slow sip of the wine, savoring the rich flavor while keeping his hand close to yours. Turning towards Simon, he asked, "What do ye say, mate? Another drink before we all turn in?" His voice was playful and suggestive.

The silence hung heavy in the air, but John never faltered, his easygoing demeanor masking the anticipation that surged beneath the surface. He set his glass down next to yours, his calloused hand brushing gently against your arm. With a sly grin, he continued, "Unless there's something else ye'd rather be doing?"

“I…" you whispered, your voice fading into the tense air as the two men fixed their gaze on you. You observed Simon approaching with confident strides, a hand resting lightly on John's back. He casually took the drink from John's hand, raising it to his lips, and savored the taste of the crimson liquid before running his tongue over his lips.

You watched as he handed the glass back to John, his hand sliding down his back before he made his way in front of you. His hands found your waist, his thumb idly drawing circles into your shirt before he hoisted you into the air and onto the countertop. You let out a yelp of surprise, lifting your cup into the air to prevent a spill.

“Simon! You–” he cut you off once more, taking the drink from your hand and setting it down beside you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I could've spilled that…” you murmured, his dark gaze silencing your protests.

Simon chose to ignore you as his hands drifted up and down your body, feeling you up before his hands descended to your thighs, parting them firmly yet gently.

“Wait… uhh…” you stammered, your voice coming out in a weak and shaky breath, anxiety bubbling in your stomach, knowing his best friend was watching.

John watched with hooded eyes as he moved in, enjoying your reaction to Simon’s assertiveness. His heart rate increased as the situation unfolded. Setting his glass down, John took a step closer, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your calf, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

His gaze shifted between you and Simon, drinking in your connection before finally focusing on your face. "It's okay, lass," he reassured you with a low whisper, his accent thick with desire. "We'll take care of ye." He let his hand trail up your leg, the touch gentle but possessive, as if claiming you for the night.

As you seemingly got lost in John’s gaze, you felt Simon’s hand cup your chin, redirecting your attention towards him as he leaned forward, catching your lips in another kiss, yet longer and more passionate, before his mouth descended towards your neck. Instinctively, you arched into him, your hands reaching up to entangle themselves in his hair, letting out soft gasps and airy whines.

With a lustful glint in his pale blue eyes, John followed suit. His rough fingers slowly worked their way under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your lower back. He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Feels good, eh?" he asked, the question barely audible yet loaded with anticipation.

You nodded your head, gasping as you felt Simon’s finger dip between your thighs, fingers diligently pressing against your clothed clit, feeling the dampness of your panties from your arousal.

John’s hands continued their exploration of your body, moving to caress the swell of your breast. In sync with Simon's rhythm, Soap pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, the contrast of his stubble against your smooth skin sending shivers down your spine.

Time passed slowly as both men continued groping your body, Simon’s fingers parting your panties to the side, sliding his fingers up and down your pussy, coating them in your juices before pressing them inside. You let out a shaky moan as John continued kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Simon's fingers slid in with barely any resistance despite being away for some time. “Simon…” you called his name, one hand clutching his bicep.

“I know, love,” he said, his voice guttural and thick with desire as his heavy gaze adorned you. It started off slow until his thick digits were twisting and curling inside you, pumping in and out in preparation for what was to come.

You could feel John’s breathing growing shallow and labored against your skin. He trailed his free hand down to the front of his pants, subtly adjusting himself; you couldn't help but think how uncomfortable it must feel. With a smoldering look, he whispered your name into your ear, “ye've got us both ready fer ye. Where would ye like us, lass?"

You suddenly remembered that you were still in your kitchen as Simon began to remove your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air and causing your nipples to perk in response. As Simon’s eyes darkened, his hand reached up to cup your breast, squeezing with an appreciative groan. “Aye’ve missed these two,” he said bluntly.

“Wait,” you stammered, breath shaky and uneven with excitement and anticipation. “We should… go to the bedroom.”

You yelped as Simon lifted you, tossing your body over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Your eyes met John’s before he shot you a wink as he followed close behind, shedding his shirt from his back revealing his muscular torso. Your eyes roamed the hairy expanse of John’s body. His stocky build was lined with scars and tattoos decorating across his skin.

Once you reached the dimly lit space, Simon gently lowered you onto the soft bed. He swiftly removed your shorts along with your underwear, revealing your arousal to their hungry gazes.

John reached forward, running a calloused thumb along your inner thigh, spreading your legs further apart, exposing your slick folds. “Ye’re absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly as Simon’s large hand traveled down your body.

John leaned in, letting his fingers trace over your thighs, savoring the softness of your skin. He moved his thumb teasingly over your clit, watching as your hips bucked slightly at the contact. His eyes locked onto yours, drinking in your reactions as Simon’s mouth closed around one of your nipples, eliciting another moan from you.

"Got a pretty voice, Bonnie," he murmured, increasing the pressure and speed of his ministrations. His other hand snaked its way behind your knee, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him before he dipped his head between your legs, replacing his thumb with his tongue, lapping up the sweetness you offered. He groaned appreciatively, losing himself in your taste and texture. His fingers slid inside, curling and thrusting in tandem with his tongue, determined to bring you to the edge.

“She does,” Simon agreed, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt as he shook off his pants. You watched in awe as his fist curled into John’s hair, shoving his face deeper, causing his nose to press into your clit, as you keened in response, your fingers entangled into the sheets beside you.

His fingers continued to explore you, finding that perfect spot that made you squirm and moan louder. As your body tensed, signaling your impending climax, John picked up the pace, his tongue swirling and flicking relentlessly. He continued to pleasure you, savoring each moan and twitch of your muscles. With each stroke of his tongue, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to orgasm.

“That's it, love," he encouraged, "Let it all go.” His arousal was evident, his trousers straining against his erection. Finally, with a loud cry, you came apart in his mouth, your hips bucking wildly. John held steady, drinking in every drop of your release, his fingers still inside you, gently massaging your G-spot as your orgasm subsided. He pulled away, a satisfied look on his face, only to find Simon watching him intently, his gaze filled with lust.

John licked his lips clean before moving up to kiss you deeply, sharing the taste of your pleasure between the two of you. After breaking the kiss, John’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at Simon. "Care to join in properly now, mate?" he asked, gesturing towards your still-quivering body.

He ran his hand up your torso, cupping one of your breasts tenderly, while his other hand reached down to stroke Simon’s hard length, showing that he was just as eager to pleasure him as he was to pleasure you. Your thighs threatened to squeeze as you watched, your gaze dancing between them both before Simon leaned forward, hand still curled in John’s hair, before tilting his head back and capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss.

Their tongues tangled together hungrily, hands roaming over each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every curve and contour. Breaking the kiss, John shifted his focus to Simon, taking his hard length in hand and beginning to stroke firmly. He looked up at Simon through his lashes, his gaze filled with heat.

With an encouraging nod from Simon, John leaned forward, pressing his lips around the head of his cock, teasing him with slow, deliberate licks before taking him fully into his mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact while pleasuring him. You gasped in shock as you watched, moaning at the sight of another man pleasing Simon in the same way you did. Have they done this before?

John grinned around his cock as he increased the pace of his strokes, his other hand fondling Simon’s balls with just the right amount of pressure. You loved the way Simon’s muscles flexed beneath his touch, the sounds of pleasure he made, and the pre-cum that coated John’s lips.

With a growl, Simon grabbed Soap’s head, pushing him down further, and Soap eagerly obliged, his arousal mounting with each thrust—the room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin.

Feeling left out, you reached out towards Simon, grabbing his arm closest to you as leverage to lift yourself onto the ground. You rested your hand on his cheek, turning his face towards you as you leaned in to kiss him.

Simon chuckled deeply, struggling to return your kiss as he moaned against your lips. “Please,” you begged, your body squirming in desperation.

You looked down to see John releasing Simon’s cock with a wet pop as he grinned up at the both of you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. His gaze shifted between your hungry expression and Simon’s lust-filled face.

Breaking away from Simon’s embrace, John stood behind you, trapping you between them as he encircled your waist with his powerful arms and pulled you back against him. His erect manhood pressed firmly against your lower back as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Ye can have whatever ye want tonight, lass,” John promised, nibbling lightly on your lobe. His hands roamed over your curves, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, gently kneading them.

You moaned, your hands resting against Simon’s chest before he took your wrists into his hands, backing you both up until you felt John’s hands pulling you down onto his lap. He shifted backward and urged you along until Simon’s knees caused the bed to dip low.

You shivered as John’s hands glided down your sides, appreciating your softness and warmth with an appreciative hum. “God, ye’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his Scottish brogue thick with desire. He leaned back onto his elbows, supporting your weight with ease. As you settled on his lap, John shifted slightly, allowing his hardened length to slide between your legs. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, and you could feel his hips bucking up into you, teasing your entrance.

You watched Simon closely, his eyes never leaving your joined bodies. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he groaned deeply, his eyes raking over your body. With a knowing smile, John leaned forward, capturing your lips once more as he slipped his hands between your legs, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs.

Simon leaned forward, yanking your face from John’s before sliding his tongue against yours, pressing his body against you before he abruptly pulled away, twisting your body around with your chest against John’s. Your breathing picked up as your eyes met his, your fingers sinking into the skin of his hairy chest. He chuckled at your expression, his large, warm, calloused hands dragging down your back before cupping your ass and squeezing.

You gasped as you heard the signature pop of a bottle opening before feeling the cool liquid slide against your puckered hole. You've done this before with Simon, but knowing you're going to be filled in two places at once has you shuddering violently.

“Hold still,” Simon’s voice cuts through the air as he holds you by your hips, halting your squirming. You whine, burying your face into John’s neck as you feel two thick digits push inside of you. You've never gotten used to the stretch, even as his fingers spread wider into a scissoring motion, pumping into you like he did before.

You hear John chuckle from above you, his hand petting your head gently as he bucks against you, continuing to catch against your hole before pulling back.

“Ready, lass?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. He gripped your hips firmly, guiding you down onto his eager cock, his muscles flexing underneath you.

You held your breath as you slowly lowered yourself onto his erection, your wet heat clenching around him in a tight embrace. He let out a deep growl of pleasure as he filled you.

John wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you adjusted to the fullness inside you. His fingers trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake before he gripped your shoulders firmly. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just hold on, pretty,” John whispered, his voice husky with desire. He felt your body momentarily stiffen before you began to move, your hips rolling against him in a rhythm that made him groan. He reached up, gently tugging his fingers in your hair as he guided your head towards his. Your lips met in a searing kiss, your tongues dancing together as John moved his hips in tandem with your movements, driving himself deeper inside you.

Simon pulled his fingers out as he situated himself behind you, “Easy, love,” he reassured, sensing your tension as Simon prepared to enter you from behind, placing his hands on top of your ass before spreading them wide and spitting on his cock for good measure. He took himself in his hand, slapping the tip against your entrance before sliding inside, letting out a deep grunt as he slowly thrust forward, filling your ass inch by inch. As Simon pushed in, John focused on maintaining his rhythm. His hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

You clutched John for dear life as Simon’s hand curled into your hair, pushing you forward as leverage to sheath himself fully inside you. You reached backward, holding the hand firmly on your head, your nails digging into his skin. “Thas’ it, sweetheart. You can take it.” Simon groaned, his gentle thrusts quickly turning rough.

“Fuck, ye’re so tight,” John whispered, his voice husky with desire. His eyes never left yours, watching the pleasure dance across your features, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He reached up, tracing your jawline with his thumb before tilting your head back, exposing your neck for him to taste. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, eliciting a moan that punched from your chest.

“Ye like this, don’t ye?” he asked, his accent rolling over the words. He felt your body tighten around him, your breaths coming in ragged pants.

You nodded swiftly, words unable to form on your tongue as wanton moans spilled from your lips uncontrollably. You’ve never felt so full in your whole life.

You feel John’s grin against your neck as your body adjusts and accepts them. He pressed his lips to your skin, suckling gently, his hand finding its way to your breast, kneading it softly as Simon’s hips continued their relentless rhythm.

“That’s rieht, love,” he murmured, “Just let go.” You could feel your orgasm building, your inner walls contracting around them, your moans growing louder. He slid his other hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, teasing you. “Cum fur us,” he urged, his voice strained with restraint. You felt Simon’s grip tighten on your hip, his pace quickening, the headboard hitting the wall in a steady beat.

John’s movements were confident and practiced, each stroke sending electric sparks coursing through your body. Your moans grew louder, your breathing more erratic, as you neared your precipice. His thumb circled your clit faster, applying more pressure, his fingers dipping lower to gather your slickness. You felt Simon’s thrusts grow deeper, more urgent, and knew they were both close. John leaned forward, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as your orgasm began to build, your body tensing above him before you let out a silent scream as your release overtook you.

John let out a deep growl as he joined Simon in their mutual release, filling you. The sensation of their combined pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you spent and satiated. As they came down from the high, he kept his lips locked with yours, savoring the intimate connection. You felt Simon’s weight shift as he pulled out of you, allowing John to move closer, cradling you between them.

Your heavy breaths mingled in the quiet room, the only sounds being the distant thunderstorm outside and your racing hearts. Pulling away from the kiss, John pressed his forehead against yours, sweat glistening on his brow.

“Fuck that wos gud,” he breathed, his voice still husky with lust. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you heard Simon retreat into your bathroom. The signature sound of a faucet running echoed in your ears.

You were spent, slumping against John’s body as the heaviness in your eyelids soon overtook you. You whine at the sensation of Simon cleaning you up. The rough and wet texture of the hand towel against your sensitive bits had you leaning away.

“I know, I know,” Simon grunted, stilling your hips as he cleaned you. Once he finished, John repositioned you on the bed, pulling the covers over your spent body before kissing your cheek.

“Git sum sleep, hen.” he chuckled, his arm wrapped around your middle. Simon settled in next to you, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pant pockets, resting one between his teeth.

As the faint, lingering scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air, you felt the warmth of a pair of hands gently tracing intricate patterns across your skin. The soft, rhythmic motion of the hands, combined with the soothing aroma, created a tranquil ambiance that gradually lulled you into a state of peaceful slumber.

main masterlist, rules

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s0fter-sin · 1 year ago

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reverse verse where soap takes on the mask instead of ghost. he wears his red skull mask so you can see the lower half of his face and his chin scar extends along his whole jaw to look like exposed teeth

#his chin scar is so gnarly and i think we gloss over it just a little too much #i like reverse verses but i think they can change just a little too much #like i wouldnt have soap act like ghost #if anything id have him act the same just more unhinged #hes still extroverted and will talk to people but people find him very unnerving #theres just this edge to everything he says and does that lets you know just bc hes being civil doesnt mean he wont rip your throat out #with his teeth #and hes just brutal in the field #preferring hand to hand wanting to get up close and bloody #very berkeresque where other soldiers learn not to go near him or interrupt him bc he cant always differentiate friend from foe #except for one deadpan brit who had a soldier’s eyes long before he ever joined the military #dour and depressing until he cracks a messed up joke and everyones shovked when they hear a scottish voice laugh #just soap who goes through roba and simon whos still ghost after living through his fathers abuse #just slightly less self isolating since he still has his family #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #we’re a team. ghost team

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penelopepine · 3 months ago

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Mother Knows Best!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mum-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist: @zarsghost

#x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #fem reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #ghost x reader x soap #fluff

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swordsandholly · 6 months ago

Text

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

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.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…�� You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

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existentialgaybirdnerd · 6 months ago

Text

Unknown facts about the 141 that even they don't find out from each other until specific circumstances:

Soap knows how to make jewelry, his sisters tricked him into liking it at 10 and it became a hobby he uses to destress. He sells his stuff online or gives it to friends and family for special occasions or just because he wanted to. His specialty is earrings.

His favorite color is purple. Not because he got it from someone else or even because he thought it was genuinely the prettiest color, but because it's a mixture of red and blue, his real favorite colors. He just couldn't pick one so he went with purple for simplicity.

Because his sisters can't sew worth their lives, he learned. It was a necessity, and something he didn't grouch about being "girly" like he jokingly does with the jewelry making sometimes. He thinks everyone regardless of gender or upbringing should know how to sew. Can make an entire outfit just hand sewing, but likes using a handheld sewing machine rather than a desk machine or actually hand sewing. Doesn't make outfits often unless they're gifts.

Has panic attacks. Not because of his time in the military, but because he's had a panic disorder since he was young. Once, he and Ghost get stranded at a safe house for about 2 weeks and he starts thinking about what would happen if they are forced to stay longer. Ghost walks in on him curled up on himself on the side of the bed, breathing so fast it's more of a wheeze than actual air being moved, and comforts him to the best of his ability. He somehow gets out not to touch him, so Ghost sits 2 feet away and starts talking about his life and his family. This was the catalyst for Soap realizing he's been madly in love with Ghost for a long time.

He fell first.

Whenever Ghost gets the chance to, he cooks. This is not a known fact to Soap until they get stranded at a decently stocked safe house with Price and Gaz and he Jerry rigs MREs to taste better.

Ghost likes to grow his fingernails out because to him it's a sign of being healthy. He hates when a nail breaks and tries to resolve any weakness in them to show he's strong and healthy.

He has a (probably) 15 year old pillow he keeps in his bunk. It's a gross color and can be folded so many times, but it's his favorite pillow and he finds he can't sleep well without it. Soap stuffs it full of cut up memory foam when he learns about it and it makes the sleep with it even better. This is the catalyst for Ghost realizing he's madly in love with Soap.

Likes having long hair, hates that he has to crop cut his hair for his work and takes as much time as possible between cuts, thanking the universe that his mask covers his hair because he'd be getting reprimanded often for his choice in how long it gets before he gets it cut.

He fell harder.

Gaz reads romance novels. He likes to make fun of the "my alpha" ones but genuinely gets interested sometimes because he has a habit of putting himself in the MC's shoes.

He likes receiving flowers. One time in secondary school another boy gave him flowers as a prank, this is where he finds out he likes lilies and dahlias the most.

Doesn't like wearing shoes or socks. He's got this thing where something being on his feet feels restrictive, and can't relax unless barefoot.

Doesn't like loud and sudden sounds. Bombs make him nervous and he can compartmentalize around them, but if someone slams something near him when he's relaxing he'll either go into a panic attack or blank out completely. It reminds him of being bullied and abuse more than it does war.

He won the bet on who would be the reason the Ghoap relationship got exposed to them.

Price grabs a newspaper every chance he gets, not because of staying caught up on the news, but because he likes to read and keep his favorite comic strips.

LOVES spicy food, Ghost will walk up to him randomly and hand him a jalapeno or habanero and he'll just crunch it. His favorite takeout when off duty is Indian food. No one said he can HANDLE the spice, just that he likes it.

Always has a bag of skittles on him. One time early on in their friendship Ghost was being mean to himself and refusing to eat more than bare minimum to not die. Being a big man, this means he expended more energy at one point than he had given himself, leading to a black out during a debrief in Price's office. This scared Price so badly until he found out Ghost's blood sugar just bottomed out, now he carries his favorite candy with him. He later adds Reese's for Gaz and twizzlers for Soap.

Price writes a journal every day before going to sleep. He carries a tiny one with him on missions to later transfer into the big one at his bedside table. He confesses his worry for his boys and his observations on their behaviours and likes and dislikes. He keeps a stream of consciousness going on some pages trying to figure out the best way to help if someone has a panic attack in front of him.

He was really hoping his lieutenant was better at stealth while distracted than THAT.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty ghost #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty price #call of duty #birdnerd ideas

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moody-alcoholic · 5 months ago

Text

Making them feel good

Hello to my American readers cos it's 3:30 here and I'm tired.

MDNI +18 content

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI + 18 content. Smut, multiple blowjobs, oral (M receiving x2), kissing & licking, cum swallowing, little bit of Mdom, tiny bit of hurt/comfort. Look they're expressing their feelings what can I say.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

You feel your body moved, there are more then two hands now. Your head is on Simon’s lap the blanket still wrapped round your body. You force yourself to keep my eyes closed not wanting to cause a bother.

“You let me sleep too long” You hear Johnny say.

“You needed it.” Simon replies.

“What about you?” Johnny says sighing.

“Don’t worry about me.” Simon says his hand falling on your shoulder. You feel Johnny move closer to Simon leaning over to kiss him, you hear their lips smacking together.

“I always worry about you.” You hear Johnny say quietly.

“I know.” Simon says as they pull apart. You feel like you’ve just invaded their privacy, maybe you should have moved to make them know you’re still there, or something. Simon’s hand is rubbing your shoulder as you feel Johnny move off the sofa.

“Want anything to eat?” You hear Johnny ask from a distance he must be in the kitchen.

“What you making?” Simon asks.

“We don’t have anything in.” Johnny says, you hear the sound of a fridge door close. “What time is it?”

“7,” Simon says.

“Lets order in, what do you think she’ll like?” Johnny asks you can hear him making his way back to the couch.

“Let’s order from that Mexican place that does the super stuffed burritos.” Simon says. You hear Johnny tapping on his phone.

“40 minutes?” He asks.,

“Yeah that’s good.” Simon says. You try to convince yourself you’ll let them know you’ve been a wake but you can’t help yourself keeping your body still and your breathing steady, you doze off again.

The doorbell jolts you awake, for a second you think you’re in a hospital and it’s a respiratory alarm going off. When you see the darkness outside you remember where you are.

“You okay?” Simon asks his hand on the small of your back. You nod letting yourself wake up properly the smell of fresh cooked food filling your nose.

“We got some food if you’re hungry?” Johnny asks as he puts the delivery bags on the table. Your body’s stiff as you sit up straight the blanket falls to the floor.

“I need to pee.” You say pulling yourself to your feet. Your body still feels sleepy as you make your way to the bathroom. You lock the door making your way to the toilet. ‘You should always pee after sex to decrease the risk of UTI’s’ your nurse brain tells you, bit late for that. You look in the mirror as you wash your hands. The bags under your eyes are getting heavier, you need to get a good nights sleep. When you leave the room you see Simon and Johnny on the couch, Johnny with his arm around Simon’s shoulders munching on a wrap. You make your way back over to the living room, feeling guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation earlier.

“There’s chicken or pork which one do you want?” Johnny asks taking food out the bag.

“Chicken sounds good.” You say and he hands you the wrap you sit in the recliner next to the sofa pulling your knees to your chest. The news is playing, you pretend to pay attention to it as you pull the foil off the wrap taking a bite. It tastes good, salty and oily exactly what you need after today. Simon and Johnny talk about whats happening on the news, you’re half listening to it as you eat the burrito.

“Looks like it’s all kicking off.” Johnny says. Simon replies with a grunt. All of a sudden the Burrito tastes stale in your mouth. You put it down on the coffee table. The pit of guilt is not going away. You try to rack your brain to why you’re feeling like this. All you can think about is Simon. Johnny got to fuck you, Simon didn’t get anything, Johnny said he was rough Simon didn’t seem rough.

“Simon,” You say as you turn to look at him, Johnny is laid up against his chest. His eyes fall on you as you slip out the chair crawling on your knees toward him. “I want to make you feel good.” You say as your hands find his knees.

“Oh yeah? How you plan on doing that?” He asks playfully, his legs parting so you can run your hands down his thighs.

“Let me suck your dick?” You ask. He chuckles and you look at Johnny who winks at you stroking Simon’s chest. Simon’s hand reaches down into his sweatpants pulling his cock out. You were right he’s bigger then Johnny, of course he is, and he’s not even fully hard yet.

“Think you can take it?” He asks, his voice low as he strokes himself in front of you. You don’t care if you can or not now it’s a challenge. You look up at him nodding, Johnny is smiling as he nuzzles his face into Simon’s neck. Your hands reach out as you move your body between his legs making sure you’re comfortable on you knees and take his cock in your hands. You rub up and down using your thumb to push into the underside. Simon’s head tilts back as Johnny licks his neck. You take a breath in pulling his foreskin back so you can wet his tip with your tongue.

“Fuck-” he moans his free hand resting on the top of your head. You just go for it locking your mouth round and forcing yourself to take the whole thing. You hold your breath letting him fill your mouth up all the way down to the back of your throat. You gag your mouth filling with saliva, Simon’s fingers run through your hair. Your head bobs up and down as you make sure to take every inch of him your tongue pressing into the underside of his cock as it grows bigger in your mouth.

“Like the way she makes you feel?” You hear Johnny ask between kisses. Simon just murmurs in response, you could never imagine him letting himself go like this especially when he’s walking around with that skull mask on, the one that sends shivers up your spine when you see it. Right now he’s at your mercy, his body twitching with each stroke of your mouth, each kiss from Johnny. Simon grips your hair helping your head move up and down, he’s rough just like Johnny said making you take him all the way to the hilt as tears form in your eyes. You don’t mind though this is your time to make him feel good. You move faster pressing harder with your tongue, Johnny’s moaning sweet things into Simon's ear making your body crave touch too. You move one of your hands into your underwear rubbing your clit, you don’t care if you get off but it feels good and it makes you more eager to please. Simon’s hand moves from your hair to your face, gently tapping your cheeks.

“Hey, look up at me love.” He says, you force your eyes open without stopping your pace. Johnny’s mouth is burred in Simon's neck, his hand under his shirt rubbing his chest. “I want you to look me in the eyes when I fill your mouth up.”

Holy shit the tingles travelling through your body are almost electric. You keep your eyes on him letting him thrust in and out of your mouth, your fingers circling your clit as you keep in time with his thrusts. He’s moaning as he gets closer to the edge, you don’t take your eyes off him. He pushes deep into your mouth and you push your head as deep as you can as he cums, his hot seed fills you up as his cock throbs in your mouth. You wait until you feel him relax before pulling your head back swallowing his cum.

Johnny is still stroking Simon’s chest whispering in his ear just quiet enough so you can’t hear. You don’t care though you made him feel good. You feel the pit go away in your stomach as you move your body from between his legs taking your hand out your underwear. You watch as Johnny kisses Simon his hand stroking his cheek.

“Johnny you have to let her do that to you.” Simon says as he pulls away, his hand gently touching himself. You look up at Johnny with needy eyes, the prospect of making him feel good too has got you all worked up again. Johnny seems to pause for a second looking between you and Simon.

“I don’t mind.” You say trying not to sound greedy. Johnny smiles pulling away from Simon spreading his legs so you can move between him. He’s already hard as he pulls his cock out. You look up at Simon who’s eyes have glazed over and he moves closer to Johnny.

“You sure you’re alright lass?” Johnny asks as you take him in your hands. You nod, your tongue licking the bead of precum off his tip. He’s not as big as Simon, not that you’re complaining you’re going to make him feel good just the same. You lock your mouth around him taking his cock all the way to the hilt. His moans are just as good as Simon, the ache between your legs intensifies as you enjoy each inch of him filling your mouth.

“Shite, Si, she’s almost as good as you.” Johnny says. You don’t have time to processes what Johnny is saying you just move faster looking up at him as his eyes roll back in his head. Simon pulls Johnny’s chin to look at him their lips locking together. Johnny twitches in your mouth causing you to close your eyes and moan on him. He likes that and you work faster hearing him pant trying to keep his cool composure as he gets closer to the edge. Simon's voice reverberating off Johnny as he tells him how good he’s being. It doesn’t take long before he’s coming too, you take him deep just like you did with Simon making sure you feel every spasm and throb until he’s twitching from over stimulation.

You pull away swallowing your second load of the night watching as Johnny sucks in deep breaths Simon stroking his face. You smile at them getting up picking your glass up from the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. You run the tap for a few seconds then fill the glass up drinking it down then leaving the glass in the sink. When you walk back to the living room you see Simon’s head on Johnny chest. You decide not to interrupt them heading to the bedroom and crawling into bed. You close your eyes exhausted but satisfied, you can still taste their cum in your mouth as you drift off to sleep.

——————————

You wake with your arm spread on Johnny’s chest, light is coming in through the bedroom window. Simon is behind you snoring softly, you don’t even remember them coming to bed. You slowly and quietly slip out from between them leaving the door ajar and heading into the kitchen. You’re craving a coffee and after searching through the cupboards for a while you find some and boil the kettle. Your eyes keep flicking to the bedroom door hoping you’re not waking them up. You decide to take the coffee out to the balcony grabbing the throw from the couch on your way out.

The sounds of busy central London fill your ears as you breathe in the frigid air. You make your way to the chair pulling the blanket round you and watching the activity on the Thames. The sun is still low in the sky covering everything in a burnt orange hue. You relax back in the chair sipping your coffee. You think back to yesterday and how natural everything felt. Johnny and Simon being so accommodating, you’ve never felt anything like this before, you’ve never had boyfriends or one night stands treat you anything like the way Johnny and Simon seem to fawn over you. The coffee burns your tongue as you swallow it down.

There was something different with Johnny and Simon, you knew this time it was going to be different. Not just because it was a three way relationship but the fact that it felt like a relationship and not just a fling or a few month fling. Holy shit you were actually falling for them, falling for them both. There was no Johnny without Simon and there was no Simon without Johnny. You smile as you sip the coffee watching the sun rise over the London skyline.

“You okay?” Johnny makes you jump as he sticks his head out the door, your free hand flies to your chest.

“Jesus, sneak up like that on everyone?” You ask as he walks out the door.

“You think I’m quiet you should hear Simon.” He says smiling. “Or I guess you don’t hear him.”

You smile at him get up drinking the rest of your cup as you walk towards him. He moves aside to let you in as you drop the throw on the couch heading to the kitchen. Johnny follows you the whole time as soon as you’ve put the cup in the sink his arms are around you. You turn to look at him as he pulls you closer to him. His lips moving to yours, you sink into his embrace as he kisses you moving his tongue round your mouth.

“Yesterday was amazing.” He says as he pulls away your arms locking round his neck.

“Oh yeah?” You say in a desperate attempt at praise. Johnny just smiles at you his lips moving back to yours, it’s slow and sensual the type of kiss that makes your knees shake, your body warms up as he presses you against the sink.

“Johnny,” You say breaking away from the kiss. “Johnny, I think I’m falling in love with you, you and Simon.” You wait for the laugh, or maybe he’ll be angry that you say you love his husband. You hold your breath waiting for the inevitable let down of being the third wheel. Instead his hand cups your cheek pulling your face up to his.

“You know how long we’ve been waiting for that.” He says, you look confused but he pulls you in for another kiss.

“This isn’t a fling, it’s not about the sex, its about a relationship.” Johnny says as he strokes your cheek his forehead on yours. You feel a wave of emotions come over you, suddenly you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. Johnny seems to pick up on your change in body language his hands finds your waist and he moves you back to the bedroom.

“I don’t want to wake Simon.” You whisper as he pushes you through the door.

“Just trust me.” He whispers as he guides you to the bed you get in with your back to Simon, Johnny laying next to you. He reaches over you grabbing Simon’s hand pulling it over you and onto him.

“See this, feel him behind you, this is real and this is want we want, it’s not a fling.” You nod listening to his words. You feel Simon stir behind you as his hand grips Johnny’s side. Simon nestles his head in your neck kissing you. Your body is frozen hoping he’ll go back to sleep and get some rest.

“Relax baby,” you hear Simon say sleepily, your eyes are still locked on Johnny as he strokes you cheek. You let your body relax.

“We love you too.” Johnny says quietly kissing your forehead.

It’s not just a fling, it’s a relationship.

Next part

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