#ghoap x reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cordeliawhohung · 1 month

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here's that one ghoap x reader one shot i had posted the idea for a bit ago

johnny has an easy smile and an aura that tells you he wants something significantly more than just his pleasure alone. it isn't until he's got you face first in the mattress that you realize you've bitten off more than you can chew.

cw: alcohol, smut (oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v) consensual to dub-con, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dumbification of johnny

2.4k

Usually, you never gave your name out so easily to any man who sauntered up to you at the bar, but something was different about this one. Maybe it was because of that odd glint in his eyes; a deep rooted lust poorly obscured by a pretty blue tint. Maybe it was because he looked terribly lost in a very cute way, like a puppy trying to find its owner. Whatever it was, it had your name rolling off your tongue faster than you could stop it, and it made the vodka in your drink taste as sweet as syrup.

His name was Johnny, and he had an easy smile that was too contagious for you to even attempt to keep up your stone cold expression. He nursed a simple pint, but didn’t seem nearly as interested in it as he was you. For all his smooth words and sharp wit, he didn’t seem to concern himself at all with attempting to hide the fact he had been undressing you with his eyes for the last half hour. The only reason you even allowed him to do so was because how warm it made you feel, rather than disgusting and violated. It was almost like a promise he was looking for something far greater than his own pleasure that night.

Eventually your drink went down as easy as water and everything else began to melt away. The dim glow of the ambient lighting made Johnny appear even more alluring as he entertained you with some outlandish story that you were certain was mostly made up, but you didn’t care. He was nice to look at, and as you smiled and nodded along with his words you couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“Wanna get out of here?” he suddenly suggested after you both were several drinks in.

His proposition nearly had you laughing, and had it been any other man on any other night you certainly would have. As cute as Johnny was, it was impossible to deny the sweet puppy charm he had about him, and you didn’t know why it lured you in as well as it did. Visions of what could possibly wait for you that night began to unfold in your mind, and you found your hips shifting on the stiff barstool as your eyes flickered to the stubble on his jaw. You wondered how that stubble would feel on the insides of your thighs.

“I don’t know…” you pondered, but your tone was far from sure. If anything, it was tempting; as if you wanted him to try and push more.

“You sure?” he questioned with a raised brow.

Before your reply could leave your lips, Johnny stole your breath away with a single brush of his fingers against your thighs. It all seemed a little juvenile, being touched in a bar as if you were two horny teens who couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. Still, you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him to push just a little further as his hands grabbed the meat of your inner thigh like he claimed a prize.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

What exactly transpired after he said that phrase that had your lips crashing against his was something you couldn’t quite recall, but you quickly realized you didn’t really care. The sour taste of beer was hot on your tongue as your thumb rubbed against the stubble on his jaw. He was the most intoxicating thing you had on your lips that night, and when his teeth nipped at you, you knew there was no way you could ever say no to his proposition.

As Johnny pulled out of that sloppy, drunken kiss, you didn’t take notice of the way his eyes flickered away from you. You didn’t realize how his attention landed on a large, looming figure that sat tucked away at one of the tables in the far side of the room. While the man’s face was shrouded with a silly skull mask, his gaze spoke volumes; it screamed something that Johnny had been craving that entire night.

Approval.

As it would turn out, there were plenty of things you didn’t notice that night. You didn’t notice the two pairs of boots by Johnny’s front door, or how their sizes were so different. You didn’t notice how his bedsheets had the faint aroma of cigarettes woven in the fabric despite the fact you had not tasted a hint of tobacco on his lips when you kissed him. Or maybe you did notice and you just didn’t care. It was difficult to care about anything with Johnny’s face buried in your cunt.

The sound of his moans rivaled that of your own, and it was downright obscene when accompanied by the wet smacking of his lips on your clit. He ate you out with a fervor you had never experienced with any other man, like he attempted to unravel you with his tongue alone. When your fingers weaved through the thick strands of his hair, that only seemed to prod him to do more. He sunk two thick fingers into your cunt and relished with a guttural groan at how your muscles squeezed at him.

With his fingers and tongue working in tandem, it didn’t take you long to come. That blistering heat tore through your body with vicious revenge. Johnny’s chuckle got lost in the heat of your skin as he eventually weaned himself off of your cunt and planted a trail of kisses up your body until he reached your lips once more. You could tell by the way his tongue slipped into your mouth that he was far from finished with you, and so when you felt his hands on your hips gently prompting you to turn over, you didn’t fight him on it.

Your hands and knees sunk into the mattress as you did your best to put on a show for Johnny. Back arched, ass up in the air, hips swaying side to side as if he needed any further enticing. His hands palmed and squeezed at your ass while he pressed himself against you. The fabric of his jeans felt odd and rough against your cunt — as Johnny was too impatient to taste you in order to take them off — yet you grinded back against him anyway.

“Gorgeous,” he cooed. Rustling clothes sounded behind you as Johnny worked off his shirt, followed by the metallic zipping of his pants. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, aye? Wanna see if she feels as good as she tastes.”

Your fingers curled into the bed sheets as Johnny’s cock sunk into you. The thick, wide stretch of him had your mind running blank. Even still, your mindless state had your body rocking back against him where you swallowed the rest of his length whole with a wanton whine. Johnny’s fingers dug into your hips at the stimulation, and you could feel the aching want exude from his body; as if he had to hold himself back lest he rip you to shreds like a badly behaved dog.

“Bleeding Christ,” he hissed, hips grinding against yours. “She feels so good, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.”

When Johnny’s hips pulled back just to slam against yours again, you knew you weren’t going to last long. With your nerves already frayed from your previous orgasm, this upcoming one wasn’t buried deep at all. It was right there, lingering just underneath your skin with its tendrils snaking up towards your mind, smothering any coherent thought you attempted to conjure. There was no need for rational thinking, anyway. Why would you need to question the heavy approaching footsteps or the dark rumbling chuckle behind you?

“Bein’ good, Johnny?”

The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and it certainly didn’t belong to Johnny. The deep baritone of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, yet it was impossible to hold back your moans as Johnny continued to fuck you like it was no big deal.

“Of course I am,” Johnny panted in response, “just listen to her.”

“Not good enough to wait for me,” the man countered.

“Couldn’t wait. Not when she was sittin’ so pretty f’me.”

No, something was wrong. Someone else was there with you, watching as Johnny fucked you into the mattress like an animal. As a wave of panic settled in your chest, you pushed against the bed as you attempted to look over your shoulder, yet it was of no use. Johnny’s relentless pace made it impossible to do anything but slip and slide forward until your face was nearly being smothered into the pillows.

“Johnny?” you asked, voice pitchy and raw.

“Right here, bonnie,” he replied as his hands snaked around your front to paw at your chest. “Fuck, you sound so pretty sayin’ my name like that. Not gonna last much longer if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Even if your brain was capable of coming up with a response to his mindless ramblings, your words surely would have gotten caught in your throat as Johnny’s hips suddenly faltered. His body moved away from yours with a slight jerk, as if someone had yanked on his head, but you could still feel his pathetic attempts to pump his cock into you as he whimpered.

“Nuh uh,” the new man — whatever his name was — chastised. “You don’t get to come until she does, yeah?”

Johnny’s forehead suddenly crashed against your back as his thrusts picked up pace once again. The hands that were pawing at your chest quickly wandered down to your clit, and your body nearly convulsed at the violent stimulation. You gasped as you tried to rip his hand off of you while the tingling sensation of your impending demise started to crack your body to pieces.

“Wait, Johnny please,” you babbled. You didn’t even know what you were trying to ask of him. To stop? To explain who that strange voice belonged to? How were you supposed to get those words out when he fucked you like a wild animal?

“I know, I know,” Johnny shushed. “I just need one more out of ya. One more then Simon will be satisfied. Please, just one more bonnie, s’all I want.”

A part of you wanted to hold back, to deny him that satisfaction, but it was impossible. He had already built you up so high that it was all too easy to kick out the support beams and watch you tumble. Johnny ripped your orgasm from your body with deft hands sending tremors throughout your body that forced your eyes to squeeze shut tight. It was searing — all consuming — like you were now bound to the man who fucked you and the stranger who egged him on.

Johnny’s cock slid out of you once your whining had calmed down, but it wasn’t long before his grunts picked up again. Without his hands to hold your hips in place, you crashed forward onto the mattress with a wince before slowly turning on your back in an attempt to face him.

The view that consumed your vision was enough to stun you into submission. Perspiration coated Johnny’s body with a glistening sheen, and he looked like a god as he sat in front of you on his knees. But he wasn’t alone. A large and brutish man stood at the end of the bed where he held Johnny against his chest by his hair. A black skull-patterned mask obscured his face, but you could make out the darkness of his eyes clear as day as he muttered into the man’s ear. You couldn’t hear what he said over the sound of Johnny’s whining, as the man had his arm snaked around to his front where he tugged at Johnny’s cock using your wetness as lube.

Before you had the chance to muster a single thought, Johnny came undone. His cum spilled out of him in heavy bursts, falling along your thighs and stomach as the man continued to work him through his end. Had you not been so confused and scared, you would have made a face at the odd, sticky feeling that tainted your skin. Instead, you laid there in silence as the man shoved his cum-coated fingers into Johnny’s mouth.

“Such a messy pup,” he hummed while Johnny licked his fingers clean.

When the man turned his attention to you, you wanted to just melt into the bed. To vanish into thin air. To be anywhere else that wasn’t under his gaze. His eyes swept over you in a quick assessment before he pushed Johnny’s head toward you with a simple shove.

“Clean her up,” he ordered.

And he did. Johnny’s feverish tongue lapped along your legs and torso, cleaning up the remnants of his cum on your body. But you didn’t feel clean. You felt dirty and confused; used even.

“Did I do good? I made you come twice, didn’t I? Please tell me I did good, bonnie,” Johnny begged.

With your body cleaned with his tongue, his nose nuzzled against the inside of your neck as he covered your body with his. As an instinct, your arms wrapped around him as if he was the only support you had. If you couldn’t hide away in the bed, then you’d certainly try to hide away under Johnny, as useless as it was. You made the mistake of making eye contact with that stranger, and his eyes looked like a warning. Like you shouldn’t dare to tell Johnny he was anything less than great.

“Y-You did good, Johnny,” you said, voice meek and trembling.

“Did ya hear that, Simon? She said I did good,” Johnny repeated, relishing in your approval. “Thank you, bonnie, thank you…”

The man — Simon? — walked around the edge of the bed to get closer to you and Johnny, and you found your grip on him tightening. That night had seemed like a good idea back at the bar when you were a few drinks in, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart felt like it tried to tear itself to shreds. Simon reached his hand for the back of Johnny’s head where he gave his hair a good ruffle, yet when he spoke he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

“Good pup.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader smut #cod smut #f!reader

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Note

simon and johnny needing to lay low after the landlord visit taking you to a little cabin they've rented out in the middle of nowhere, for the sole purpose of allowing you to 'escape' just so they can have the fun of hunting you down on dirtbikes with nets and rope and little (nonlethal but still fairly nasty) traps they'd already left in the woods for you

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my g-

3.5k words under the cut. cw for noncon and primal kink. bit of fear play. basically everything in the ask is in the drabble lol

You're scared out of your mind when they first tell you they're leaving for the weekend and taking you with them. You've got this fear that maybe they're going to kill you. They balk if you dare ask, get all comforting and loving and tell you how they'd rather slit their own wrists than ever kill you. Can't even fathom it.

But still... you don't fully trust them. Not after your most recent escape attempt resulted in your harshest punishment yet.

You especially don't trust that they're tying you up for the trip. Simon stands in front of you with a pair of ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and a little length of chain, Johnny bouncing around behind him as he stuffs clothes into duffel bags.

"If you can't handle sitting in the backseat," Simon starts. "We'll tie you up and leave you in the trunk. That what you want?"

The answer is obvious. At least they give you actual clothes to wear in the car - it's the little things that make life bearable these days.

You can't lift your hands to try and wave for help in the car. The way you're chained leaves you with an awkward hunch in your back, makes you cranky when you can't find a way to get comfortable even after you put your feet on the seats. The way Johnny shouts along to half of the songs that come on the radio doesn't help your mood.

(They play one of your favorites at one point, and you can't help but sing along. Simon turns the volume up, and you get louder too, thinking they can't fully hear you. Johnny and Simon just smile at each other.)

The cabin they bring you to isn't very large. It's got an open floor plan, kitchen, living room, dining table, and massive king sized bed all in just one room. The only doors are to the pantry, a closet, and a bathroom.

They let you get settled a bit, Simon flopping onto the couch and watching you closely as Johnny brings in your luggage from the car and you poke around a bit. They take off all your restraints (except for the fucking collar, which hasn't left your throat since they put it there), tell you "who could help you this far out?" and you get a little sulky about it.

You start plotting your escape almost immediately.

They fuck you in the afternoon. Johnny bending you over the arm of the sofa, Simon pulling his cock out and guiding your head to it where he sits. You choke, nearly fucking suffocate on his cock when Johnny pulls out and leaves you limp with no support on the couch.

You don't stand on your own once they've both finished, cheek resting on Simon's thigh and just trying to catch your breath before you build your walls back up. Before you can move, Johnny's back behind you, one hand on the small of your back and the other stroking your ass.

You're still a little hazy in your head, but the sudden slick finger sliding right into your ass with no warning has you jolting up from the couch, a high yelp coming from your throat as you struggle against Johnny's hand.

"Hush, bonnie," he laughs. "Just givin' you yer tail."

You hate the fucking tail. It's attached to a butt plug that always makes you walk just a little oddly, the fucking fur on it is nearly the same shade as your hair, and half the time when they make you wear it they want you to crawl after them.

So you struggle a little more, especially as a second finger slips into your ass soon after the first. "Calm down, love," Simon rumbles, one hand lifting to pet your head. "You don't like your tail? Hm? Don't like bein' reminded you're just a little pet for us?"

"Fucking-" you grunt, little teeth bared at him as you glare and lean away. "Fucking bastard."

"Och," Johnny scolds, and you feel him pull out only to line cold plastic up at your entrance. "That's not very bonnie. You itchin' for a punishment today? Want Simon to be a little mean to you?"

"Just have to ask, pet," Simon smirks down at you, giving you a firm pat on your head before going back to his stroking. "Ask nicely and we'll give ya anythin' you want. Isn't that right, Johnny?"

"Hmmm," he hums from behind you, pushing and pulling just the tip of the plug in and out of your ass to stretch you more. "Anythin', lovie."

You grunt a little as he starts to slide it into you. "Okay," you hiss. "I want to fucking leave. I don't want to wear a fucking tail."

"That wasn't asking very nicely, was it?" Simon would sneer down at you a bit, mean smirk on his face as he shakes your head no for you, ignores your huffing breaths from Johnny's actions.

"Besides," Johnny says from behind you. "You do want to wear your tail. I can see your pussy droolin', lassie. No point in tryin' to hide it."

"That's-" you interrupt yourself with a little grunt when the tail sinks fully inside of you. "That's because we just fucked you idiot-"

A little tap to your face, Simon's other hand holding you still by the hair. "Watch it," he rumbles, eyes serious as he stares down at you. "Need me to clean out your mouth for you?"

Fuck no. 'Clean out your mouth' is almost always code for 'have you suck Simon's cock for fucking hours, even if he's soft as a feather'. You hate having to stay between his knees so long, just a warm mouth for him to soak in, even less than the pet they're always telling you you are.

You shake your head, glaring mutinously up at him.

He shakes you by your hair a bit. "What was that?"

"No," you force through gritted teeth, squirming a bit from his tight grip on your chin.

"Try again."

You growl a little, get a tiny smirk from Simon for it which just pisses you off more. "No, sir."

"Good girl," he purrs, hand going soft to stroke through your hair, all anger melted from his face. "Now, what was the other thing you wanted?"

"To fucking leave," Johnny says from behind you, grin audible in his tone. You can feel one hand playing with the tail, probably batting it back and forth judging by the way you feel the fur brush against your thighs, his other hand stroking up and down your back.

"That's right," Simon says. He brings the hand petting you down to your neck, jerking you out of the softness you'd briefly fallen back into as he raises your head towards him. "Well. Maybe we could let you try, huh?"

That gets you attention, has you stiffening up and leaning closer to him. "Wha- really?" you choke out, eyes wide as you stare up into his face.

"Sure," he says, smile growing on his lips at your eagerness. "How about this - you try and run, and if we can't catch you in an hour, we get to keep you. No more escape attempts."

You scowl, sinking away a bit. "Where the hell would I run in here?"

Johnny barks a laugh from behind you, leaning over your back and resting his chin on your shoulder. "Out there, bonnie. You'd be runnin' through the woods. Already got your tail, huh? Could be our little prey, runnin' from the big scary predators." You feel his dick harden against your thigh and he bites your shoulder blade, a groan rumbling from his mouth.

"How do I-" you can't help a little moan as Johnny's hips start rocking against yours, his hand slipping to rub at your used cunt. "How do I know - shit, Johnny - how do I know you'll let me go?"

"You don't," is the answer you get from Simon, a little whine creeping from your throat when two fingers sink into your pussy as a thumb works at your clit. "You'd have to trust us. But we'd keep our word. Haven't broken it with you yet."

It's a little hard to think with everything running through your head, but you know he's right. You might hate them, hate that they're keeping you, hate the way they make your body feel, but neither of them has lied to you yet. Even psychos seem to have some moral standards.

"Go ahead, Johnny," Simon grunts from above you when you go long enough without responding. "Fuck her again. Then we'll see how far she can run, hm?"

About three hours and a few more rounds later you stand on the back porch, naked except for a pair of Johnny's boots tied as tightly as you could get them (and with a pair of socks tucked into the tips. They're still a little loose, but better than nothing you suppose.)

"One hour," Simon says, stepping towards you with a little pair of ears in his hand. They match the tail and are stuck on a headband the same shade as your hair. You scowl when you see them, but don't say anything as he continues to speak and puts them on your head. "Run, or hide, but don't come back to the cabin. We catch you, you're ours, no more running away." He steps back a moment, stares deep into your eyes, then smirks. "No taking off the ears or out the tail. How else will we recognize the animal we're hunting?"

You go red at that, scoff and roll your eyes to try and cover it up. Johnny laughs, so you figure it doesn't work.

"Alright, lass," he says, feral grin on his lips as he holds up a little stopwatch with a one hour timer set. "On the count of three. One... two... three!"

You're off like a shot, ignoring the laughter behind you when you nearly trip down the steps onto the dirt. You know they don't think you can do this, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

— — — — —

You start to get worried when the sun sets. You doubt it's been more than ten minutes, and as the darkness creeps in it occurs to you that the forest will be pitch black once night fully falls.

You ran for as long as you could before slowing to catch your breath. You haven't heard or seen either of your hunters, but you know they're out there somewhere. You feel acutely aware of their presence in a way you never have before. It leaves your skin crawling, has you shooting looks over your shoulder every other step you take.

But you can’t stop now. So you slow down when you need to, flinch at the way the tree branches and bushes scratch at your naked skin, and pray to God you’ve got enough of a headstart to keep you safe.

You hear the shouts begin just after the sun has fully set.

The first one - a loud and echoing “Bonnie!” that you recognize as being from Johnny - has you yelping, nearly jumping out of your skin. You start running again before you even realize what’s happening, then keep running when you realize you’ve essentially lit a beacon directly to your location.

He calls out to you several times.

“Where you at, lassie?”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Aren’t you cold? Don’t you want to come back home with us?”

“We’re going to find you!”

“I can smell your fear, lovie, I know you’re nearby!”

The longer sentences are the ones that scare you, because it means he’s close enough for you to hear every word he’s saying. You worry he might be watching, because every time you start to slow down again he shouts, forces you back into high gear and gets you stumbling again.

You sort of stumble into a clearing eventually, panting and going completely still as you realize how exposed you are. You can’t help but shiver a little, tucking your hands close to your body and hunching your shoulders as you step forward.

And then, from the treeline in front of you, out steps Simon.

In his fucking mask. The one that always gets your heart racing when you see it, gets you a little wet beneath the thighs no matter how much you try to deny is.

He tilts his head a little as the moonlight hits him, frozen completely in front of you. You find yourself unable to move as he strolls lazily towards you, just stock still and incapable of thinking anything but threat.

When he’s about a foot away he stops, leans forward so that mask is right in front of your face and you can see the whites of his eyes.

You don’t see the mask move, just hear one word.

“Run.”

You do. You scramble back, fall on your ass and stand as quickly as possible to try and get away. You’re already shouting, some primal instinct deep in your head nothing but flight.

You hardly make it five steps, tackled to the ground with what must be the full weight of Simon’s body. You cry out as you’re binned, hands and knees digging into sharp sticks and pebbles. You struggle, yelping and whining as you desperately try to buck him off.

He only laughs, the sound echoing and a little psychotic. One of his hands locks itself in your hand, jerks you back and forces your head up to the sky, the other grabs on your tail and gives you just enough of a tug to whimper and go a little weak in the elbows.

“Pretty little prey,” he’d purr, hunching over to whisper in your ear and grinding his clothed erection over your ass. “Hardly even put up a fight. Thought you wanted to get away, huh?”

“I-I do!” You choke out, head shaking where he still holds you tight.

“You do?” His tone is condescending, so fucking mean, but you’re lost in a haze of instincts and hardly notice. “Okay, baby. Try again.”

And then- and then you’re free.

You try and get to your legs, stumble a little before you can fully get your feet beneath you and fall again.

There’s a laugh from behind you, and you try again.

This time you get a few steps. But he doesn’t even let you get out of the clearing before he’s gripping you by the neck, throws you onto the ground and plants a heavy boot in the center of your back, pushes down and doesn’t even let you get to your hands and knees.

“That all you got?” He’d grunt, crouching down and putting more weight on you in the process. “Pathetic little thing. You want to keep trying, or you ready to swallow your pride?”

You sob at that, fingers clutching desperately at the dirt. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod viciously. “Let me- let me go! I’ll get away, you won’t catch me next time!”

You both know you’re lying. So when the weight disappears from your back, when you blink teary eyes open and see him slowly backing away, you’re nothing short of astounded.

“Sure, sweetheart. Third time’s the charm, yeah? I’ll even give you a ten second head start. Ten…”

You’re on your feet at eight, in the forest again at seven. You hear his voice in your head no matter how far you run.

It’s minutes, hours later when you’re tackled to the ground again.

This time you go rolling, the man on top of you snarling viciously as he lets your momentum carry you for several turns. He gets you on your back, collars a hand around your throat and snarls and he bares his teeth in your face.

Johnny looks rabid. His mohawk is rarely brushed, but you’ve never seen it as wild as it is now. He’s naked, unlike Simon, and there’s an eagerness in his eyes you’ve never seen before - not even the night you’d met Simon.

“Fucking got you,” he’d snap, spittle flying from his lips as he squeezes your throat. You try to struggle, but he’s so big that he doesn’t have to restrain you anywhere else. You can’t get away from him.

You cry out at the realization, but refuse to stop struggling. You.. you can’t. It’s like as soon as you’re caught, as soon as flight is no longer an option, your brain doesn’t let you do anything but fight.

Still, it takes no effort at all for Johnny to flip you onto your stomach. He doesn’t even both to prop your hips up, just forces your legs to spread with his knees and thrusts balls deep before you can even lift your head.

You scream. You were a little wet, but not enough to take him comfortably in one go. Your shout is all animal, the sound of something conquered calling out it’s own defeat.

Johnny’s responding sound is nearly a howl, head thrown toward the sky as he immediately starts pounding your pussy. One hand pushes down on the small of your back, keeps you down and still, the other is in your hair forcing your face into the dirt. You force your forehead lower just so you don’t keep banging your head as he fucks you.

Neither of you manages words, just shouts and yelps and whines and moans. There’s a point where you can turn your head, when you nearly bust your lip open on your teeth, and you spot Simon. He’s nearly six feet away, a massive figure cloaked in black - you can only see him because of the stark white of the skull mask against the dark backdrop.

Johnny’s rough fucking feels like it’s endless. You nearly think you’ll die, feel like you’re split down the middle and surely it’s the blood that’s making his thrusts so slick?

He finishes without you, buries himself to the hilt and bite where your shoulder and neck meet. You scream a little at the horrible sting, scream even more when he bites down harder, about lose your mind when you feel his teeth puncture skin.

He pulls out moments later, leaves you cold and alone on the ground as he straightens up and lops away, dropping flat on his ass at the base of a tree and resting his head back to catch his breath.

You still haven’t caught yours when you’re flipped onto your back.

It’s Simon this time, fully clothed and blocking your view of the stars with his mask. He’s silent, ignores your incomprehensible whines and pulls his cock out of his pants, grabs you under both knees, hooks them around his waist, and starts thrusting into you.

Your round with Simon is… more. He’s slower, yes, but he also doesn’t look away from you. His eyes never leave yours, and any time your eyes start to slip shut he thrusts right up into your cervix until they flicker wide open again. You can see his eyes, but that’s it. You can’t hear anything but the sound of your own fucking, can’t even hear his breathing over the blood rushing through your ears and your own panting.

If Johnny’s fucking was endless, Simon’s is an eternity. You think you might die, think you might just pass out and never wake up, come to in the afterlife to the fucking delicious slide of Simon’s cock still working it’s way in and out of your sore cunt.

He comes eventually. You don’t.

He stands above you when he pulls out, waits for you to finally start to move before you speak.

You’re getting to your knees, one foot lifting to push yourself up, when his boot lands on the knee still folded beneath you.

“No,” he says. “You’ll crawl behind us. Animals don’t walk on two legs.”

You don’t have the energy to do more than let out a pathetic whine.

Johnny leads the three of you back, Simon behind you as you crawl after him. When you slow down too much, he nudges you with his boot until you move again.

They don’t let you wash off in the cabin. Instead, SImon brings out a fucking hose, and they spray you down with cold water. You can only kneel there miserably, head ducked and eyes squeezed shut against the worst of it.

You have to crawl up the steps and into the house, but that’s where the game ends.

Simon scoops you up instantly, has you placed on the couch while he quickly tugs off your boots before wrapping you up in a towel that had been laid in front of the fire. He dries you hair quickly, then wraps himself around you and sits in front of the hearth.

Johnny joins you minutes later, body washed off and wearing a pair of boxers. He sits next to you two, and for once he doesn’t try and touch you.

You can’t speak for the rest of the night.

#asks and answers #bo writes #goodnight freaks 🫡#dlmliyh #ghoap x reader smut

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ciitroner · 4 months

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Cabin In The Woods: and the consequences of your actions

Kidnapper!Ghost x Reader x Kidnapper!Soap

PART 3 OF THE KIDNAP!AU BACKSTORY SERIES, part 1, part 2.

ROUGH DAY (main story)

Summary: Never did you once believe that the seemingly abandoned cabin you stumbled across after an accident on your hike would belong to two men you once met at a bar. You wish you'd listened to your gut feeling about them...

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, kidnapping, oral sex, NON-CON, blowjob, DARK FIC, creepy/pervy behaviour, toxic behaviour, somnophilia? (not really, but you were about to drift to sleep), dacryphilia, humiliation, mention of stalking, slight violence, manipulation, hair pulling, fingering, you get hurt in the process of the hike

Notes: This took way too long, I deleted a few drafts before I said fuck it and settled with this one. Ok mwah enjoy Wc: 4.9k

The evening sun, accompanied by the small occasional breeze carefully, yet harshly, caresses your tired body. Your frame hangs low as if you had not slept in years, your eyebags complimenting the appearance. One after the other, with a shaking huff and a puff, you lift your legs to strive forward. To where - you had yet to discover. You had lost your hiking trail and were now only hoping for a helping sign, although to no avail. Your friend, whose house you were staying at, at the moment, had suggested that you enjoy the forest and nature instead of… well, sulking at home over not getting a job. It was a good idea at the time, and you had promised her to take a lot of beautiful photos that both of you could sigh happily about later on. The only problem is, that you’ve never gone on a hiking trip before, and suddenly being thrown into the worst situation you could currently think of- fuelled your hate for nature. No signal, and an almost dead phone did you no good.

With every rise of angriness and anxiousness over the setting sun, you find the strength to go deeper into the forest - maybe not the greatest idea, but you are so very sure that the hiking trail was around that area… probably… hopefully. You feel a droplet hit your nose, pulling you out of your thought process. How lovely! The bad situation became even worse. It’s slowly but surely getting colder, and what was once only a few drops of rain had turned into a heavy downpour. You could barely see your surroundings, but at least you don’t have to worry about water, you laugh miserably to yourself while you resume walking - as standing in the middle of nowhere would get you… nowhere. The forest ground is wet and slippery, forcing a few gasps and yelps out of you when you lose your balance from time to time. You’re cold, wet, muddy and grumpy after a few stumbles when the first flash of lightning lights up the dark sky, and not very much later - you hear the sharp sound.

“Ah… shit.” You’d have to find shelter as soon as possible, as being surrounded by trees wasn’t ideal in a full-blown thunderstorm.

The slow, hunched walking evolves into jogging in fear when the next bolt of lightning hits somewhere close. Something, most likely a root, knocks you down on your knees as you trip over it. Barely hearing your groan over the loud pitter-patter of the rain, you get up again - and you’d guess your knees were scraped bloody through your pants due to every fall - though, this one was significantly harsh. Your soggy clothing and annoying backpack weigh down on you, not much unlike the anxiousness of getting lost and eaten by wolves - and holding back tears is the only thing you feel like you have control over at the moment. Gasping for breath, you push through a dense thicket, the rain soaking every inch of your being and thorns grabbing onto the poor excuse of clothes you’re wearing. The forest seems to close in around you, and bile rises in your throat - which you have to force down with a gulp. The eerie creaking of branches, the rustling of unseen animals… creatures, the horrible sound of lightning and the relentless downpour create a symphony of discomfort - nonetheless, you push through the labyrinth of nightmares.

Each step forward is a struggle, and being unable to see what’s in front of you awakens a cruel twist of fate as it sends you tumbling down a steep part of the mountain. The world becomes a blur of mud, rocks and undeniable hurt as you desperately claw at anything within reach - attempting to halt your rapid descent. Time seems to slow down, and the echoes of your terrified screams mix with the howling wind until everything goes dark.

With a shocked and pained gasp, you awaken. God knows how long you’ve been out cold - but it mustn’t have been too long, as the world around you is still dark, and the storm continues its wrath, indifferent to your plight. Pain radiates through your body as you lay there, dazed and battered. You must’ve hit your head, making you pass out, you conclude after a horrible headache crashes down on you. Your hands hurt and so does a part of your lip, you could only guess that it had been injured in the accident. Grimacing, you manage to push yourself upright - letting out pained ah’s and oh’s when you have to balance your body on your hands to get up. Your backpack is still in its place - you realise, and you’re thankful as it could have dampened the fall. You stay standing still for a while, just… appreciating life, thankful you’re still alive. You put your hands in your pockets to preserve the warmth when you realise that your phone is gone, and you realise it's worthless to try and look around if you don’t want to fall somewhere again - as horrible as it was, your life was a bit more important.

As you’re turning around to take a new path, hopefully bringing you some place higher up where you could scream for help during the day, something catches your eye. With a squint of your tired eyes, you notice a cabin in the far distance. You realise it’s not a trick of your exhausted mind and that there indeed is a cabin nearby, nestled within the shadows of the towering trees - and like the most cliché horror character, you’re not taking a chance, limping forward towards the entrance. The cabin emerges from the darkness, its outline becoming clearer as you draw near. It looks old and slightly ugly, you notice - the chair and table on the front porch most likely have been broken and fallen over due to the relentless storm and many more.

With a deep breath, you approach the creaking door. You decide that it’s better to be potentially breaking into the cabin than to be left standing outside in dangerous weather conditions. You pull down the handle, and you’re relieved when it opens. The interior of the cabin gives a special charm of itself - as if time had paused within its walls - and you’re thankful that the shelter you had found for yourself had a good roof, not letting any drops of water slip by. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Pretty - but basic, furniture is arranged sporadically as if the owner only had put them there to… put them there. You notice a lamp over a kitchen table with two seats and realise that there might be a chance that the electricity still works, you could only hope. Quickly closing the door behind you, you take on the job of grazing the walls with your sore fingertips, for a sign of the light switch. You mutter an apology to the absent owner when you spread mud and water over the floor in your search, and promise yourself to clean it afterwards, “Aha!”

It takes around ten seconds before the light starts flickering before staying lit. You’re careful to avoid the rugs - some normal, and other animal pelts - when you search for other light switches, as you didn’t want to stay in the dark for any longer. When you’d get home… if you got home, you’d give your friend two slaps on each cheek before giving her a long hug and cry into her shoulder. Then you’d research every how-to on hiking there is, even though you’d never go again - it’s good to know. The occasional gust of wind through a window, incapable of being fully closed, makes the dust dance in the air and you cough.

There’s a fireplace in front of the sofa, surrounded by a bit larger stones, with a flat-screen TV resting on the mantel above the fireplace. You’re cold, and the only thing on your mind is a shower and a hot drink - but you shake your head and explore further, setting down your large backpack close to the entrance. You’d have to take out your things to examine what’s wet and what’s not later - even though you took a waterproof bag (thank god for your friend’s boyfriend), you don’t know if your things were safe from the horrid weather and fall. It’s a two-floor, cosy cabin - the upstairs area consists of a balcony and a bedroom. The windows, though framed by large heavy curtains, allow glimpses of the storm outside, and the flickering bedside lamp you’ve turned on allows you to see the dust gathered on the wooden frames of the bed, and a few flies that had died. The downstairs area consists of the living room, kitchen, and surprisingly clean bathroom - aside from the dust, there is no sign of mould nor any horror film yellowish-bathroom colour anywhere in the sink. You sigh in happiness and pray to whatever entity that had let you live the fall down the mountain that the hot water still works.

The owner might not have visited for a while, and you can only hope that they don’t feel like coming during the few hours- or days, you might be here. The wooden floor creaks under your every step when you walk over to pick up your backpack and settle it down on the kitchen table - obviously after dusting it down with a feather duster you had found in a corner. You needed a change of clothes as soon as possible if you didn't want to get sick - and thus, you unzip it and uncover a carefully wrapped bundle of spare clothes. The previous overthinking, while you had packed your bag, pays off as you take out another pair of underwear, shampoo and some warmer sweats. Luckily, as it was packed at the bottom - it hadn’t become wet, unlike your equipment at the top. You walk to the bathroom and put your clothes down on the counter connected to the basin.

You turn on the water in the bathtub, and let it run while the gentle hum of the electricity powers a small heater. You undress and look at yourself in the mirror, horrifying - you conclude. Steam begins to rise, and you slide the curtain to the side and walk in, sighing as the too-warm water almost boils your skin off - as it should. You made a mental note to remember the fireplace afterwards before you begin washing yourself, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of your body. The scent of your shampoo fills your lungs, and you smile to yourself.

After a long time, you emerge from the shower, wrapped in a dry towel, and feel a renewed sense of vitality. You slip into the fresh, clean clothes - a stark contrast to the dampness and discomfort that defined your… adventure thus far.

You towel dry your hair before leaving the towel to dry on the bathtub curtain rack along with your previous clothes - abandoning your shoes for a pair of warm fuzzy socks you had brought with you, wearing them with a pair of slippers you’d found. Although a few sizes too big, you cringed at the thought of walking on the dust and dead-flies-filled floor. The cabin was creepy, and the occasional flickering of light paired with the storm outside made you take no chances - so in case a monster of some sort came up behind you, at least you could hit it with a slipper. You shrug.

You bring out a vacuum cleaner and plug it into an outlet in the kitchen before cleaning the cabin, making it a more comfortable place - you were especially careful not to leave any dust particles around the fireplace, as it's highly flammable. You decide to clean upstairs as well, fixing the bed in slight sympathy for the owner, before arranging the logs in the fireplace - creating a carefully crafted pyramid you’re frankly proud of. A small box of matches rests on the mantel, and thankfully there are a few left. You strike a match, the flame dancing briefly before settling into a steady glow, and carefully touch the match to the kindling. The flames grow, licking at the wood and bringing the living room area to life.

You’d brought a few - now soggy, although still edible - snacks with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your stomach satisfied for at least a day or two. A breeze from the broken window made you shiver and stay closer to the fire, it was still dark outside, but the rain had calmed down by now and would probably come to a full stop in a few hours. You eat a few protein bars, before falling asleep on the sofa - not being able to turn the television on, as you had no energy to search for the remote control. Dangerous, yes, but it seems like your bad luck had run out as you awaken in the morning (or afternoon, you had no idea - as the only clock in the house had stopped working) with a fully intact cabin and now only a small sad fire in the fireplace. It’s sunny outside, thankfully - and you quickly wash your dirty clothes in the bathtub before hanging them outside on a clothesline. You grimace at the sight of your shoes, it would take at least a few sunny days to dry them fully - even though you almost turn them fully inside out. You walk back inside again, to get yourself some food.

“Hey!”

You let out a shrill scream at the unsuspected voice behind you, and you quickly turn around - cursing as you stumble because of the big slippers on your feet. He’s big, the man. Owner, you presume, inspecting him with wide eyes. He has a large balaclava with a skull print on it, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before. His gaze is cold, and there’s a certain standoffishness to his demeanour.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, half-heartedly you assume by the hint of amusement and lack of warmth in his tone. His gaze assesses you, not unkindly, but with a detached scrutiny that makes you uneasy. He kicks his boots off by the front door, leaving it ajar, before setting down four full bags on the table you’d kept your backpack - before moving it to the sofa while you snacked yesterday. Your accelerated breathing and heart rate calm a bit when you realise that he doesn’t have any will to hurt you for breaking into his cabin at the moment, you feel the need to excuse your actions.

“It’s okay, it’s been q-quite a night,” you gulp, throat dry, “found your cabin while I was lost due to the storm.”

His response is a nonchalant nod. “Make yourself at home,” he responds, voice authoritative - making the suggestion almost sound like a command. It holds a distance that almost seems intentional. He takes in his surroundings and notices how clean it is, unusual to what it would normally be like after not visiting for almost months at a time. “I… I cleaned,” you announce with a cough, getting up from the floor feeling like an idiot. He seems indifferent, as if your actions hold little significance to him, “I can see that.”

He opens cabinets and slowly but steadily empties the bags, most of it is food, and other things include batteries, you notice. You feel awkward standing while he does the work, “d-do you-”

“Name’s Ghost,” he states abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence, and not bothering to extend a handshake or any other friendly gesture - continuing to store the items in their places. The introduction hangs in the air, the conversation feeling more obligatory than welcoming. You take off his slippers - and he seems to track your movements through the corner of his eye - before offering your own name. He lets out a short hum, and there’s that. It doesn’t lead anywhere, and you’re both left in silence before the front door opens once more. The sudden footsteps behind you startle you, and you turn around to find another man there.

“Did ye hang those rags outside- oh,” the man notices you and raises his dark eyebrows, “didn’t expect tae see anyone here,” he greets with an accent, although somewhat confused, his tone is friendly and warm - rivalling against Ghost’s composed and cold behaviour. Ghost offers the man a subtle nod in his direction, acknowledging his presence without uttering a single word.

“I was on a hike, got lost and sought shelter from the storm here…” you quickly explain yourself, fiddling with your fingers behind your back in anxiousness of being stared down by two large men. The man continues your conversation while Ghost neatly folds the plastic bags before putting them in a box somewhere in the corner.

“Nae bother,” he drops your name and your ears perk up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. He speaks with a grin as if nothing weird had happened at all. He takes off his boots before joining Ghost in the kitchen - muttering something about teabags. “Thanks for gien’ the place a tidy up.” You ignore his thankfulness.

“How do you know my name?” you ask, a tinge of uncertainty layering your words. The man’s grin widens, “we met at the bar, ‘bout a month ago. We had a good time, tad bit too much on the bevvy, though.”

“Ah… Soap?”

“Aye.” He almost vividly describes the details of your… not so much conversation, reminding you of a night when you were perhaps a bit too inebriated to recall much. You have to shush him after a moment, and he cackles at your embarrassed face.

You find it odd that Soap remembers everything so clearly - especially since it’s been a month, while your memories from that night are only flickering fragments. The realization that he has been holding onto these details gets you uncomfortable.

“Ye like yer tea wi’ a wee smidgen of sugar, aye lassie?”

It’s as if he has been meticulously collecting pieces of your life. Despite the peculiar circumstances, Soap continues to engage in casual - slightly one-sided - conversation, seemingly oblivious to the unease settling within you. The sun shines bright through the window close to the table, where Soap is now ushering you towards. You shake your head.

“I… I think I should go home,” you utter tentatively, voicing the sudden urge that has gripped you. Ghost’s gaze, still concealed behind the balaclava, remains unreadable - though the air surrounding him seems to thicken. Soap, his charm momentarily faltering, raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Leaving… so soon?” he questions, friendly demeanour momentarily slipping into an expression of perplexity - leaving you with goosebumps. He leans casually against a wall, as if waiting for your explanation.

“It’s just… I don’t know. These past hours have been a bit,” you wave your hands around, wanting to find the right words, “too much,” you stammer, struggling to articulate your urgency to leave. Soap’s grin returns, but there’s a subtle shift in his gaze, “we’ve got everything ye need right here. Naw need tae go,” he voices with a friendly tone that contradicts the unease in your gut. He places a warm cup of tea in front of you, setting you down on a seat, before sitting on the chair in front of you with a cup of his own. Ghost, still a silent observer - now also with a cup - stands beside Soap, not much unlike a bodyguard.

“Ye’ve been through so much… take a day or two’s rest here before you leave.” It’s voiced almost like a demand. “I guess,” you sip on the tea - silently cursing Soap because he made it just the way you like it. Soap relaxes against the wooden chair and Ghost moves slightly away from your eyesight - before lighting his balaclava to drink.

That was your third and last mistake.

“Love the hustle and bustle o’ the city, but sometimes, a quiet place like this feels like a different world, aye?” Soap shares, a lopsided grin on his face. “I guess,” you repeat. It had been a nightmare, really. You’d never go out again after this.

“Especially since we’ve now got an Angel sent from heaven, now.”

“I- I guess,” you would be a bit more creeped out if he wasn’t exactly your type. You’re both attracted to each other, it seems like. Awful situation.

You continue chatting, Ghost quipping in with small jokes occasionally - and you laugh. The tension in the air slowly disappears, and soon enough - when the tea cups are empty, Ghost drags his mask over his jaw again, hiding anything but his eyes. He gets a stool and settles down next to Soap. You’re thankful they’re being nice hosts.

“Soap-”

“Johnny,” he cuts you off, “he’s Simon. No need for call signs.”

“Ah… Johnny,” you begin, and swear that you see him shudder slightly, “where do you keep your plasters? My knees-” he cuts you off, “hurt in the storm, yeah? Lt will show ye.”

Simon, without uttering a word, motions for you to follow him. Johnny stays in the kitchen, mumbling something about dinner, had it been that long? He leads you to the bedroom to your surprise, you’d guess they’d kept them in the bathroom… but alright. The silence in the air is thick, only broken by the occasional creak of wood under your feet as you climb the stairs. The flickering poor bulb on the ceiling sparks to life when he turns it on, and he gestures towards the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?”

Simon doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t even glance at you as he walks to the bedside table and rummages around, before getting up and leaving the room. You decide to strip, not wanting him to stare at you while you do it, at least. You take off both your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear when Simon returns to you with a damp cloth and a few plasters. “We need to clean the wound before applying the plasters.” He deadpans as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You hesitantly nod, feeling way too naked.

“Have you done this before?” you ask dumbly, “i-is it a part of… your job, or something?”

“Sometimes.” He kneels between your legs, and you hiss when he starts to almost expertly wipe at your knees. He doesn’t stop for your cries, focus unwavering and trying to get it over as quickly as possible. You recall Johnny calling Simon “lieutenant”, and you guess their line of work was military. He carefully places plasters on the scraped areas once he finishes cleaning the wounds. He throws you out of your thought process when he sits beside you, towering over your vulnerable body, “elbow” is the only thing he says before lifting your arm. You two sit in silence as he works, his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the lack of expression on his face - and the whole process feels clinical, as if he’s merely completing a necessary task.

“You’re lucky it’s not more serious,” he finally speaks, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck, squeezing slightly and breaking the quiet tension looming over you both. His words are cold, his voice deep, and you find yourself longing for the warmth and friendliness that Johnny had exhibited earlier. The hand stays for a bit too long before he gets up. As you put your clothes back on, Simon exits the room without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You can hear the distant sounds of Johnny’s clinks and clanks in the kitchen. Descending the stairs, the delicious smell of food fills your lungs, and you’re so hungry - you realise.

“Feelin’ better, bonnie?” Johnny asks as he places three plates of food on the table. You nod, sitting down in your previous seat. It’s a simple microwavable dinner, but you almost drool. Simon sets down a wine glass in front of you all and Johnny brings a bottle, “to relax, aye?” he winks. You could use a glass of wine, to be honest, and so you let him fill your glass.

The three of you sit down to eat, and the conversation flows more naturally this time. Johnny, though still eccentric, appears to have softened his demeanour, engaging you in discussions about various topics. You find yourself laughing at some things you normally wouldn’t, you blame it on the wine and stress. As the night progresses, they suggest you take the bed - to which you reply that you can’t- won’t

“Can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” you exclaim.

“Who said anything about a sofa?” Simon shrugs. You brushed it off and assumed they had a guest room somewhere you could borrow, you were naive, you realise, now. Because that’s how you end up between them in their bed. To preserve heat in this cold climate, Johnny had said, plays with your sense of logic like a puppeteer.

At some point, he’d started touching you a bit inappropriately, and when you’d turned around to cuss him out - he’d latched his mouth to yours. Simon lies on his side, facing you two - yet not moving a muscle to help you at all. Between filthy and sloppy kisses, you manage out a “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Johnny!” to which he only responds with a shaky moan and rubs his growing hard-on into your thigh, “fuckin’ loooove when ye sae m’ name. Gets me so hard, lovie.”

He stops shoving his tongue down your throat to instead lick a stripe down to your neck, where he starts sucking hot open-mouth kisses into your skin. You let out a quivery breath, closing your eyes to not see the drooling man hunched over your body - the imprint of his dick tight against his jeans. You remember cumming on your vibrator to the thought of it a month back, but now you’d do anything to run away from it. A slap on your cheek brings you back to reality, the skin almost burns and tears prickle in your eyes. Simon is staring you down, while Johnny raises his body just enough to almost rip his t-shirt off of himself.

“Keep your eyes open.” It’s a demand, a scary one at that. Military men are, in theory, hot, but in practice… still hot but also terrifying. He brings his calloused fingertips to gently stroke the cheek, before gripping both of your cheeks until your lips pout and your face aches. Johnny grins crookedly, bends down and gives you an almost cute kiss before yelling “ass up!” Your body almost flies down the bed with the force he drags your pants and panties off of you, and you let out a squeal which both of the men laugh at, “P-please, I can… I can give you money” you beg through your pouty lips and make them laugh harder, “sure,” Johnny comments, “got naw money to pay rent, how are ye supposed to pay us?”

“How,” your mouth hurts, “how do you-”

Simon releases his grip on your face and moves to pet your hair.

“So talkative. Take her mouth, Johnny.”

The man almost flies up to sit next to your head, pubic hair rubbing against your cheek when he drags his leaking cock over your lips. He’s big, awfully so, and he knows it because he pulls at your chin until you open it reluctantly, “nice ‘n wide now, sae ahhh,” then sinks in. The moan he lets out almost makes you rub your thighs together, it’s filthy and pornographic, and only intensifies when you swallow around him in an attempt to not puke up the dinner you’d shared with them. Simon smacks your thigh, which makes you avert your wet eyes from Johnny to him. He continues petting your hair while his other hand simultaneously moves downwards to your pussy, body easily moving in between your legs to make it difficult for you to close them. His middle and ring fingers spread your flaps apart and tease at your hole before dragging them upwards and collecting your juices. You fight but fail the loud moan that escapes your mouth, “Y-yeah just like that- fuck…” Johnny rambles on.

It’s embarrassing, and you have to hold back from crying when you see how wet you are. Simon gladly spreads his fingers to show off, before wiping them off on Johnny’s balls, making his breath hitch, and his next thrust a bit harsher. With the hand on your head, which has since long stopped stroking, he wraps his fingers in your hair suddenly and pulls you slightly upwards. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and your sobs only rile the man in your mouth up even more. Simon gets closer to your face, almost rips your hair off of your skull and moves his still-wet fingers down to your clit, rubs painfully - almost past the point of pleasure.

“You, are never leaving.”

154 notes · View notes

vanderilnde · 8 days

Text

you buy a second-hand laptop from a dodgy craigslist user only to make a carnal discovery hidden between the files.

cw for anal sex, face fucking, pet play, choking, masturbation, noncon filmed sex, overall dubcon, reader is fujoing out

ghoap (x reader)

You saw it in a flitting advertisement. Used Acer Aspire V5, female buyers only, and didn’t hesitate to contact the poster.

Ghost was his screen name. Macabre, but not something to dwell on because he’s selling the only affordable hand-me-down you can find. He insisted on meeting at a hole-in-the-wall pub, beneath a metal sheet awning. There’s a cigarette pinched between his lips as you approach, an overripe mask rolled over his broken nose.

“You’re our bird?” He asks in a Manchester hint, exhaling a plume of off-white smoke.

You stifle over that operative word—our—but push through it and meekly nod, preening at his feet.

Beneath the predatory glint of his eyes, you realize you’ve gravely miscalculated the calibre of this situation. Meeting a complete stranger in a gritty alleyway and waiting to pick up his scrap-metal laptop, all because it satisfies your budget.

“Yeah…” you mumble. Try to make yourself invisible even though it’s redundant—he already towers over you, his shadow eclipsing your body, his heat drinking you in.

“‘ere it is,” he grunts. “You’ve got our cash?”

You hand him the crumpled wad of paper, squirming as he passes his thumb over his tongue and folds through the money, counting it with a mean curl of his lips.

“That’s– is everything alright?”

He stuffs the money into his jacket and expells a deep prusten sound, like an idle predator. “Fine. Pleasure doin’ business with you, bird.”

Ghost turns on his mud-clogged boot and strays off, letting the shadows swallow him whole. You hold the bulky laptop to your chest and wield it like a weapon on your way home, finally settling into bed, ready to examine your new purchase.

The hinges creak as you pull it open. A grimace splits your cheeks at the dust crusted in the margins, the rings of juice gummed to the mousepad.

A few letters from the keyboard are missing, and a few strips of tape look dog-eared, peeling from the corners, exposing the laptop’s internal wiring. Gossamer-like, spiderweb cracks work across the edges. The screen is a blotchy eyesore, striated with horizontal lines.

You have to beat your knuckles on the laptop to keep it from jamming. You navigate the desktop with simmering irritation, invaded by the inkling that you’ve been utterly scammed. Nothing matches the photos advertised on Ghost’s account, and just as your annoyance is about to ripen into white-hot anger, something catches your eye.

It’s nestled into a nook on the desktop. It’s an unnamed folder that stares back at you, unassuming, the icon already half-opened and waiting to be examined.

You double click it, more like triple click, actually, since the mousepad decides to cramp, and squirm as the folder flares over the screen. It’s a collection of videos, their thumbnails all spotty and dark, eclipsed by the thumb of whoever’s holding the camera.

Their titles are as cryptic as their photos.

wet.avi; tail_plug.avi; no_prep.avi; with_price.avi.

You find yourself scrolling lower, your fingers working against the mousepad like a rapidly unfurling spool of thread. You decide to investigate one of the videos, one with a foggy, filmy thumbnail, and carefully heed the title before poising your finger above the open function.

johnny_leash.avi

The video is grainy, as if it was imported from a camcorder rather than a phone. The first few seconds are a blurry with grey-scale strobes running across the screen, radiating an aura of seediness that makes a hint of discomfort sink like sediment in your stomach, adhering to your viscera. A deep, damp squelching sound peals out, tempered with the sticky noise of something being broken in, hollowed out.

The camera ebbs, settles, then focuses all at once. You think you’re going to faint.

It’s someone’s puffy ass getting stretched out on a fat cock. It puckers and tightens with each piston-paced thrust, red.

A large hand belonging to the person recording enters the frame. Their hand tattoos stretch as they split their palm across the hind of their spine, the cameraman’s fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into their back, clawing them down on their battering ram of a cock.

“Quit whinin’, Johnny,” the voice behind the camera loudly grunts.

The one getting split open, Johnny, snivels into the pillow. His spine is curved into the mattress, his ass pert and sticking in the air, rippling with the force of the cameraman’s hips.

A plume of dust travels over the screen, fleetingly concealing the image. When the soot thins into the air and bares the salacious material of the video, you gasp.

There’s a glint caught on something silver from the feeble lightning. It’s a chrome-plated chain, you see, connecting to Johnny’s throat. A leather collar cutting into his ruddy skin. The leash is wrapped around the cameraman’s hand like a reel, and each time he tugs, pulling his hand back as if winding up for an attack, Johnny gets peeled off the bed, his back arching so deep you’re sure it’s close to snapping.

“Shit, Simon—!” He squeals. “Can ye… slow down?”

The aforementioned Simon grunts. Animalistic, like a rabid predator. The camera whirls, the unromantic colours of the room they’re in bleeding into each other, and when it focuses, you see Simon’s large palm splayed against the back of Johnny’s half-shaven skull, gripping his hair, pushing him into the bed.

The man flails like a fish out of water, struggling under his hand. It prompts an emergency response out of you—the way he’s being fucked into the mattress, no doubt pressing a Johnny-shaped chalk outline like the ones at crime scenes into the bedding. Alarm seizes you, and the thought of submitting this to the authorities trumpets like strobe lights in your mind.

The video is written with inept non-professionalism, reeking with the sentiment of a found-footage horror film that it’s not the authenticity that rattles your bones like a wind chime, but the morality.

You tell yourself to stop the video, but as the thought squeezes itself between your ears, Johnny’s hoisting his neck back and peering into the camera, his striking-blue eyes flaring in all-encompassing horror. His lips pop open and wrap around a soundless scream, warbling.

“Yer recordin’ me?”

“Smile for the camera, Johnny,” Simon pants. “Who knows who might see this, right?”

Simon shoots his hand up and bullies his fingers past Johnny’s lips. He sinks his nails into the round of his mouth, stretching his cheek back into a repugnant curl. It’s paradoxial—how Johnny’s mouth is pulled into a smile, but his eyes are wide and wet, wordlessly begging.

Your body betrays your moral plight.

Your rapt ocular vein, the signals rushing to your mind, your nipples stiffening in your shirt. You feel as though you’re made of livewire, not matter, as you watch Johnny’s ass get spread open on Simon’s cock, his eyes rolling like unruly billiard balls to the back of his head.

His ass is red and patchy, burning up. Simon’s hand swats through the air and makes the sound of a whistle, flaring into a booming crack of thunder whenever he brings it down on Johnny’s ass. It makes you jump. Makes you feel as if your ass is being abused by proxy just by sitting, and watching raptly.

Instead of inching your hand towards the button that exits the video, your hand dips below your waistband and moves to cup your cunt.

The gusset of your panties is already hot, clinging to your dewy core. It sticks to your pussy, baring your puffy lips and swollen clit. You give it a few slaps and rub your fingers languidly, pace quickening.

But the video abruptly ends before the ascent to your pleasure is able to materialize. You yank your hand from your pussy, smearing your arousal on the mousepad as you search for another video.

You don’t heed the title—face_fuck.avi—before clicking it and readily spreading your legs, flushing at the sound of your lips parting.

The video starts, and you swear it feels like you’ve been hit with a brick.

Simon—or Ghost, you now recognize—is a behemoth. Huge would be an understatement for him. The camera is set up this time, somewhere across the room, but Simon still just barely fits within the margins. He’s folded over Johnny who sits on his knees with his back against the wall, his neck hoisted up at him.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. He’s hard—this, you’re sure of because of how red his balls are—yet still, his cock droops with weight, the bulbous tip scarcely teasing Johnny’s lips.

“You want your snack, boy?”

Johnny nods. He darts his tongue out and tries kitten licking the slit, but Simon isn’t having that. He grips the base of his dick and swats it against Johnny’s cheek, slapping him, the noise so thick and resounding it sounds like a palm that breaks his skin, not a cock.

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost snarls—you decide that name is more seemly for him—“Can’t wait when it comes to dick, huh?”

Johnny’s lips part, a response poised behind his chattering teeth. However, his reply gets snuffed out and shoved to the back of his throat as Ghost feeds him his cock, slamming into him with one, slick motion.

Johnny’s head hits the wall, his face puckering as pain blooms behind his skull. The action makes his jaw clench, clamping down on Simon’s cock, but Simon is quickly gripping his hair and puppeting his head back, sliding his cock deeper, until the tuft of steel-wool hair on his pelvis brushes Johnny’s nose.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ghost grunts. “No teeth.”

The only mercy Johnny is afforded is when he sinks his nails into the sinews of Ghost’s thighs, scratching him striated, trying to offset the burn in his jowls. The back of his head thumps dumbly against the wall with each of Ghost’s jackhammering thrusts, his smaller cock springing up and slapping against his navel.

You keen. Rub your clit a little faster, tease your forefinger around your winking hole as spit and precome sticks to Johnny’s chin the same way your juices strings your fingers together. Johnny goes lax and the video abruptly ends, and you almost feel yourself going crazy, hastily exiting the video because you miss the phantom sensation around your cunt getting stretched. You click on another video that has your heart jumping to your throat.

It’s dated from just yesterday, two days after you placed the order with Ghost.

breeding_my_boy.avi

Your panties are completely soaked through at this point. The image of Johnny folded like origami under Ghost, eclipsed by his body, makes you gush. His knees are pressed against his ears and his ass is in the air while Ghost tugs his cock, towering over him and pressing his tip against his hole, slowly sinking into him.

Simultaneously, you hook two of your fingers up your cunt. Your arousal seeps out and pools into the divots between your knuckles, hot and wet, making a sucking sound as you draw your fingers out and thrust them back in, pawing your walls.

Ghost pulls his cock to the tip before driving himself back inside. He’s deeply-seated, knocking the air out of Johnny’s lungs with each stroke. Ghost draws his thighs close for leverage and sinks his fists into the bed, on either side of Johnny before snapping his hips, feeding him his whole cock.

You sink your other hand below your pants and blindly sweep at your clit, watching with keen eyes as Johnny gets pounded into the mattress, his legs thrashing dumbly with the force, his hands twisting into the moth-eaten sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands and according to Ghost, he’s “not allowed to touch his cock.”

You can barely see Ghost’s sweat in the coarse-grained, gritty video filter. It comes out as glistening dew, dribbling down his neck and onto Johnny’s cheek, to which he swiftly laps up.

It’s the same thing for Johnny’s tears—sparkling in the soft smoulder of light, smearing like spread as Ghost works his rough tongue against his cheek, licking up his brine.

Johnny’s whimpers and the crack of flesh against flesh emanate out of the janky laptop as tinny, thin. However as Ghost lowers his head, grumbling against the hull of Johnny’s ear, whispering, the thin sound travels out of the speakers and punctures your stomach.

“Wish I could breed you, pup…”

Pleasure gyrates in your belly, frothy. You curl your toes into your mattress and buck into your fingers, feeling your orgasm beginning to crest. You pinch your clit the same way Ghost snakes his hand low, trapping the tip of Johnny’s cock between his fingers to squeeze.

“Smile a’ the camera, dog,” he mutters. Takes him by the jaw and dimples his cheeks as he makes Johnny look into the lens, his eyes glossed over.

“Y’reckon she’s touching herself?” Ghost growls. “Watching you turn a mess?”

Your orgasm is on the edge now. Ghost looks at the camera, his eyes glowing like predators do on trail cams, a swill of molten rushing through you. He looks like he did beneath the awning—animalistic, as he seems to stare directly at you, snapping into Johnny’s ass.

“m gonnae come…” Johnny whimpers.

Ghost chokes his hand around Johnny’s cock, sliding his hand up and down to the pace of his thrusts. And with what happens next, your body girdles, throwing itself into the throes of your panoramic orgasm.

It’s Johnny. Bending his back off the bed and squeezing his thighs. He moans your name—your screen name—the one used to purchase the laptop. He treats it like something to bite on to defer the pain of his orgasm, trembling.

Thick ropes of come shoot from his cock just as an off-white liquid escapes you, splattering over the screen. You’re quivering as Ghost fills Johnny, watching as his balls tighten and breathe like a pulse as he comes inside.

The three of you are miraculously synchronized. Your laboured breaths simmer, thinning into nothing, as the two of them turn to look at the camera.

You undertake the decision to keep the laptop.

And a week later while browsing Craigslist’s homepage, you stumble across a familiar username.

Posted by Ghost 32 minutes ago.

Looking for a flatmate in Manchester. Two roommates. Three bedroom. Females only. Serious inquiries only.

A second doesn’t pass before you’re writing up your application.

#ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #ghost/reader smut #soap/reader #soap mactavish smut #ghost smut #ghostsoap x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap x reader

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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Can i get a "Have you seen my- oh," with your roommates johnny and simon who're dating?

Specifically Johnny, because we all know he has house training, just chooses to never show it.

It's midday, you're off from work and you're aching to relieve some stress. Around this time is when Johnny gets ready to go to the gym, so you lock your door and pull your pants down.

Your nerves are stretched thin from work, the heavy traffic, your boss that won't get off your ass about a project that's due 2 weeks from now.

And you haven't gotten laid since the guys moved in- so about a year ago. It doesn't help that they're both too good looking and the icing on that cake is that they're dating each other.

You also feel wrong imagining that it's their hands that touch your chest and slick cunt, but nothing gets you off faster, nowadays.

so with a slightly guilty conscience, your hand travels down to your sex, and begins to draw small, light circles on your bundle of nerves, and slowly sink two clever fingers into your swollen entrance.

The door busts wide open, knob slamming into the back wall. "Hey, bonnie, have you seen my- oh."

You locked the fucking door. Right?

"The door wasn't locked," he quickly explains, but his eyes don't stray from where your hand is.

"I'm sure it wasn't, Johnny. Now please get the fuck out."

He instead steps inside, gently closing the door behind him.

Uh oh.

"Need a hand? Ah promise I'm good with them. My mouth too, ask Simon."

Johnny also doesn't wait for you to answer, just brazenly walks to the corner of the bed and crawls his way over until his warm breath fans over your bare pussy.

"Jus' helpin' a friend in need, aye?"

He moves your hand, hissing when he sees thick strings of arousal on your fingertips and licks a flat stripe from your hole to your swollen clit.

oop.

When Simon comes back from whatever the hell he was doing, you're already asleep in your room, drained from the amount of peaks he brought you to with his fingers and tongue.

Johnny drags Simon into the bedroom and pulls him in for a kiss; sliding his tongue into Simon's mouth.

Simon moans when he gets a taste of what he just knows is you.

Heady arousal is strong on Johnny's tongue- and Simon throbs in his pants, yearning for more.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #ghoap x you #ghoap x reader #ghoap smut

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bi-writes · 1 month

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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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obsessedduh · 30 days

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idk why. i just thought and came up with this. be prepared for a bunch of shitty writing and loads of waffling (blabbering)!

cw: stepcest, dubcon, body betrayal, mentions of rape, willing!reader? simon and johnny are fucking weirdos and perverts. implied fem reader. guys be warned this one's freaky 😰. also may be loads of writing mistakes, but oh well, yolo! 😝

MDNI – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, who's your weird step-brother.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, who purposely 'drops' his glass of water on your shirt when your parents aren't around just so he can see your pretty tits through the soaked fabric. just so he can see your nipples harden.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, who steals your panties so he can sniff and wank off to them later.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, who walks into the bathroom while you're showering, saying that he needs the toilet, but really, he just wants to see your pretty body.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, who loves it when you drop something because when you bend over, your ass is perfectly in his view and he fucking loves it.

However, Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish - who has a best friend - Simon 'Ghost' Riley, that comes over to johnny's house for the first time, when his and your parents arent home, to hang out, totally not because he wanted to see johnny's pretty step-sister that he's being bragging about, pshhh - no - never!

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who claim that they need help with something and that you need to go johnny's room, immediately. almost making it sound super serious, like a fire or something.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who as soon as you get in johnny's room, grab you and push you onto his bed, laughing at your shocked and confused expression.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who snicker as you try to squirm your way out of simon's grip as johnny takes off your clothes

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who feel almost bad when you beg them to stop. almost.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who groans when they pull off your panties to see your juices covering your folds.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who tease you as you beg and scream them to stop, but johnny ends up your covering mouth and whispering in your ear, "yer' sure, yer' don' wan' this, bonnie? cuz yer' pussy s'jus' drenched."

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who laugh at your scared and baffled face. you knew what was gonna happen. you were just shocked at the fact it was your step-brother and his best friend that's gonna rape you.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who groan at the way your pussy quivers as johnny dips his ring finger in between your folds, collecting your slick as his runs it up and down them. his finger tracing your clit.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who stare at your dazed out face and it was only from one single finger teasing your pussy. johnny moves his finger a bit more down and pushes his fore finger into your pussy, curling right into your g-spot. he groans - not only from your pathetic whiny moan but also from the way your pussy clamps down onto his finger instantly, like his finger was made for your pussy.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who look at each other before johnny shoves three fingers into your cunt without warning, his palm pressing against your clit. it cause you to let out a mewl mixed with a whine from the sudden stretch in your cunt. thank god, you are soaked because that would've hurt like a bitch.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who stare in awe as your pussy leaks juices that pool in johnny's hand as he fingers you skillfully. simon leans down to kiss you; his stubble grazing against your chin as his tongue slips in your mouth, blocking out your moans. johnny leans down to leave marks on your neck.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who praise your ears of as you begin to reach your high. your juices uncontrollably drip all over johnny's hand. you feel yourself beginning to feel like putty in their hands.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who slowly place their cocks in your holes, no sort of warning. when did they even take their clothes off!? simon is in your cunt and johnny in your mouth. it was difficult at first from how much you were struggling, but it wasn't that much difficult. they were so much bigger than you it was easy to force your legs open and to pin you down for simon and for johnny, you had your lip sealed, denying him of any oral pleasure and poor ol' johnny can't have that, can he? so he squished your cheeks so your mouth opens and he slips his cock into your mouth.

Johhny 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who are loud as fuck, groaning, moaning, grunting, praising, degrading. you name it, it's coming out of their mouth. not like you were any better. in a matter of fact, you were probably worse, moaning and whining like a lost puppy. thank god you and johnny's parents arent home. simon's cock stretches you out so fucking good. each thrust ends up with a sloppy white ring around the base of his cock, from how wet your cunt is. johnny's cock so snug in your wet mouth, just the feeling of you running your mouth around his tip is enough to make him delirious.

but you, who couldn't help but think how disgusting this is? you were being raped by your fucking step-brother and his best friend and you're enjoying it!? what the actual fuck!?

you, who couldn't help but come down from another pleasure high. your pussy contracts around simon's cock uncontrollably as you drench his cock and johnny's bedsheets with your squirt.

you, who whined from slight overstimulation from simon still fucking your cunt. slowly and unsteady though which he was close and johnny who's thrusts in your mouth were also becoming unsteady meaning they both were gonna cum.

you, who had to listen to their grunts and groans as they begin filling you up. your pussy and mouth milking them dry.

but also you, who woke up with a aching jaw and sore legs, you turn over to see a note under your pillow. you take it out from under your pillow and begin reading it. 'we had loads of fun with you bonnie, hope we can do it again.'

you, who think to yourself. 'hey at least they cleaned me up.'

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

wanna know more about me —> here

masterlist —> here

#🎀 — 𝑶𝑩𝑺𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 #tw: sa #tw: r*pe #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: body betrayal #cod soap #cod ghost #soap x you #ghost x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x y/n #ghost x y/n #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #ghoap x reader smut

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lovifie · 1 month

Text

Ghost needs to know where Soap and you always run to whenever the heli lands.

After every mission, every single one; the moment they touch ground, Soap and you disappear. Only coming back for the next breakfast, lunch or dinner.

He always gets pulls back by Price, talking about finishing paperwork and he never gets to see where you hide.

Until today.

He finally was able to catch the two of you enter one of the rooms on base before Price called him. Curiosity forces him to finish in time record, almost running to the room to see what is going on between you two.

What he didn't expect, was to find the two of you laying on a sofa, with Soap laying on top of you. With his pants down to his knees and yours hanging from your ankle.

Asleep, but Soap balls deep in your warm cunt. Too horny after the mission to wait to fuck eachother, but too exhausted to manage to do it without falling asleep mid-fuck.

He closes the door behind him, locking it. He likes your little arrangement, and he wants into the fun the two of you has.

Two pathetics pups, needing a third to fuck you right.

Back to Masterlist

@whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @thatonepupkai @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip

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diejager · 4 months

Text

Your Number’s Up

Pairing: Ghoap x Ghostface!reader

Cw: Ghostface!reader, staking, mention of murder, killing panic, smut, somnophilia, dacryphilia, DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, more to be added. Note: credit to @cobwebs-in-autumn for the sublime idea.

Summary: Johnny’s caught the attention of more than his Lieutenant.

Parts:

Your Number’s Up

Hello, Simon

Simon Says

Say Cheese

End Of Scene

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cordeliawhohung · 7 days

Text

pet!au part 4 | ghoap x fem!reader

simon goes shopping

cw: non-con, dark content, groping, oral (m!), non-con videoing, voyeurism, thoughts of violence

Department stores always had such a synthetic scent to them it made Simon sick.

It was the last place he wanted to visit after a long day of butchering animals and cutting them into palatable pieces. Yet there was something he needed, which proved difficult to find. Plastic was incorporated into everything those days — weaved into food bags and molded into anything one could think of. Cheap trash. Something that broke too easily, unlike flesh and metal.

Needless to say, the brute looked at the rack of dog collars with disappointment as nothing but plastic and nylon stared back at him. Fluorescent reflective yellow, glittery princess pink — disgusting. They were poorly crafted, items that would fray and break within no time. Putting either of his pets in something so gaudy seemed inhumane, and his nose twitched underneath his mask at the very thought. No, he needed something more dignified. Something real.

Thick-soled work boots hit the concrete floor with a dull thud as Simon rounded the other side of the rack. It took everything in him not to scoff at the plump purple faux leather collar that greeted him on the second row, but as his eyes meandered downwards, he finally caught sight of the good stuff. Dark cow skin tanned and conditioned into lovely leather. His knees creaked as he bent down and reached a hand towards one of the collars. Smooth, and it smelled leagues better than the synthetic shit a few rows above.

Once he made his choice of a dark brown leather collar chosen just for you, there was only one more thing Simon needed to retrieve before returning home to you and Johnny.

Your name.

Simon wasn’t interested in the shaped cut tags the engraving machine offered. Dog bones, stars — all of it. Cliche. Annoying. Though he was certain Johnny would have rather you had the heart shaped tag, he went with a simple circle to engrave the name Bonnie onto it. Of course he knew your other name, your old name. The one on your lease and your driver's license. It didn’t suit you. And you were under his care, now. A new life demanded a new name, after all.

As the machine whirred and whined in front of him, Simon snuck his phone out of his pocket. Several customers milled around the aisles behind him as he opened an app that sported a house-shaped icon and was instantly brought to a live feed of the rooms in the house. The videos illuminated in a grid on his phone, though the images were too small to clearly see the contents, he knew exactly where he could find you and Johnny.

Clicking on the live feed from the bedroom, Simon nearly smirked when the video popped up on his screen. Johnny had you bare naked on the bed, head leaning over the side of the mattress as you laid on your back, legs flailing. Unlike earlier that morning, your shirt had finally been torn off and discarded next to the rest of your unnecessary garments, and Johnny pawed at your tits like the dog he was as he pumped his cock into your mouth.

Had the audio been on, Simon knew exactly what he would have heard. Johnny’s pathetic grunts, and your gagging and panting as you struggled with the harsh angle your neck bent at. He scolded the man in his mind. The pace he set was too fast and brutish for you to get any air in, yet he didn’t listen to your pitiful attempts at non-verbal communication as you pushed back on his hips.

That wasn’t his first round with you that day, and he figured it wouldn’t be his last. Simon had watched the cameras like a hawk that morning when he left for work and witnessed every second of Johnny fucking your thighs. Pathetic. Almost cute. So close to your cunt yet not quite the real deal. Had to make sure his pup listened to the rules, and while he was very close to breaking them, Simon was rather impressed with the man’s self restraint.

He would have hated to get rid of you had his silly pup fucked you properly.

The machine in front of him beeped, signaling the completion of your freshly engraved tag, yet Simon’s eyes refused to look anywhere else but his phone. Johnny’s hips began to stutter, yet he pressed his cock so far down your throat he could nearly see the bulge of it. Your body thrashed as you tried to squirm from his grasp, but Johnny’s grip on your torso kept you pinned to the bed as his fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples.

With one final thrust, Johnny sunk himself into you and threw his head back, and Simon could nearly hear the groan in his mind. His fucked out, mouth opened gaze trained on the ceiling as his spend trickled down your throat. Silly pup nearly forgot to let you breathe until he all but collapsed off the side of the bed, pulling his cock out of your mouth in the process.

You sat up much too fast and collapsed onto your side as coughs rattled your body. Even through the graininess of the camera, Simon could see the spit and cum dribble down your chin and onto the mattress. A real fucking mess. One he wasn’t excited to clean up when he got home.

Simon turned his phone off with a sigh before he retrieved your tag out of the machine. A large thumb grazed over your new name, and he pocketed that along with his phone before going to pay for your collar.

The bold cashier that was unfortunate enough to serve Simon looked at him with his towering height, intimidating mask, and concerning choice of merchandise with what could only be described as faint disgust accompanied by caution. Simon doubled down on his cold expression, eyes screaming to the man about the ten different ways he knew how to butcher a human. Neither man spoke a word to one another as the item was scanned, yet Simon wished he had grabbed his knife instead of cash when he was asked to pay for it. Animals shouldn’t look at owners like that. As if he was a monster. If an animal wasn’t a pet, then the only look he should have received was fear.

Instead, he grabbed the collar the moment the man took his cash, and he didn’t look back as he exited the store, even as the clerk called after him asking about his change.

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader smut #pet!au #dead dove #f!reader

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ciitroner · 4 months

Note

okok here me out!!! you said that reader had to sell most of her items because they had to pay for things. i imagine reader bringing their nice clothing to consignment shops or even selling online (maybe ebay or poshmark??) anyways, what if johnny and simon were keeping tabs on reader prior to that night at the bar.

what if johnny and simon were the ones buying their items? if they were doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, or if they simply bought the items to ready their room in the basement.. well i’ll have you decide.

Part 2 of 3 of the backstory

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, not proofread, slight exhibitionism and voyeurism, alcohol intake (you’re bordering on tipsy), possessive behaviour, Johnny being a horndog, mention of kidnapping, clothed grinding, tell me if I missed any!

———

Interesting thought! I don't believe they would be the ones to buy your things though, as they have no interest in your old stuff. Simon and Johnny are nasty men, they get off on the fact that nothing in the cottage they're keeping you in belongs to you. You’re drinking some juice with your breakfast? Yeah, you’re going to have to use Simon’s mug, and don't believe that Johnny won't steal a gulp or two from the drink. The clothes you’re wearing all belong to them, apart from underwear (if they could, they would - honestly, but they don’t want to scare you off. As if they haven't already. Besides, it makes it easier for the panty sniffing…) Also, while you’re selling your stuff, they didn't know who you were yet! They may or may not have come across you at the café/restaurant you were working at, but only from afar - in those cases you were never assigned as their waitress. Both Simon and Johnny have always felt that there’s something missing, yeah they’re undeniably happy together - but yet… in the 1000-piece puzzle, only 999 have been put together and the last one’s been lost.

They didn't know that the last piece of their puzzle was right under their noses, so when they turn their full attention to you for the first time, a summer night, at a bar they crashed at to let loose - they find the last puzzle piece.

Dancing and pausing now and then to take a sip of your second drink, only to go back to swaying your hips on the dance floor right after. The dress you’re wearing compliments your curves, and your pretty lips lip-sync to the song blasting from the speakers.

It’s Johnny who jumps up first from his seat, leaving his beloved lieutenant behind, to approach the beautiful woman who caught their attention. He startles you at first, hands finding your thighs and pulling you flush against him. He chuckles lowly at your little jump and yelp, before you look behind yourself and meeting his bright blue eyes. Furthermore, he gives you a toothy smile, which is hard not to reciprocate, and you face forward again - dancing with him to the beat of the song, one hand on the back of his neck, travelling upwards to grab at his mohawk occasionally, and the other wandering. It’s curious, grabs at his bulging biceps, strokes the side of his face when he lays his head on your shoulder - kissing and sucking hickies into your neck, and grabs the hand groping at your thighs. His eyes meet with Simon’s when you aren’t paying attention, slowly turning you to face him so he could watch the show as he pleased.

It starts off innocent, or well - as innocent as slow grinding can be. You’re both enjoying each other's company, and he keeps his hands mostly to himself at first before becoming bolder. His head lifts off of your shoulder to bury it in your hair, and he takes a big whiff. Weird, you think at first, but shrug it off soon enough as he pulls you against him a bit harsher, his half hard cock desperately searching for your pussy through the layers of clothing. You hum softly when it rubs against you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t wet at the moment. The man behind you whistles lowly when you start rubbing back against him, which encourages him to be braver. He moves a forearm in front of you and wraps it around your midsection, palm splayed open on your stomach. His other hand moves up to brush against your breasts, before gripping your chin. He relishes in your gasp, glad he heard it over the loud music that he’s now practically humping you to. He meets Simon’s eyes one last time, before angling your head towards him and leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “name’s Soap.” He says, right before diving in for a treat.

He’s good at kissing… and dancing, you note. Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system that made your body practically beg for the stranger behind you, but soon enough you’re leading the hand on your chin down to your breasts again. Which he gladly complies to, and moans at the feeling of fat under his hand, reaction clearly being seen in the palm on your stomach trembling slightly. You swear you can feel his dick throb, and you wonder if he’s fully hard yet, or if the dick that was slowly growing against your back throughout the night to what now was a beast had yet to reach it’s end goal. Said hand travels down to your thighs, rubbing circles into it, before giving it a harsh slap and finally breaking away from your kiss and turning you around. You almost lose your balance, but he keeps you steady - feeding the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, bonnie.” he grins, moving his hands to grab at your waist, manipulating you to be chest to chest with him. You can clearly feel his irritated cock on your stomach through his denim jeans, and you have to push down the urge to get down on your knees right in the middle of the bar. Face to face, you get a good look at him. He’s handsome, his physique complimented by an equal face. You both have to lean slightly closer to each other to be able to hear over the loud music, “Hi… Soap” you giggle at the unusual nickname, although almost back off immediately after at his peculiar reaction. His whole body almost shudders, and the hands on your waist quickly grab you harshly and lift you slightly off the ground. He grinds his dick right between your thighs, and it catches onto your clit - to which you moan loudly and fall forward into him.

“Ah fuck” he groans, bites his lip and moves you- rather indiscreetly, to a close corner of the dance floor. The wall hits your back and you moan into your second kiss when a hand moves closer and closer to where you need him, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, “ye’re pure soakin’, eh?” his fingers leave you, but before you can mourn the loss, he’s got his thigh propped up against you.

“S-Soap” you sweetly moan for him, and he feels as though he could die right there, leave for the pits of hell and still be satisfied. “C’mon lass,” he coos at your uneven grinding, and smirks at your nails digging into his shoulders, “drench my thigh, ‘n then we’ll deal with the formalities, aye?”

You circle and roll your whole body into the erratic movements, desperate but good enough to have both your pussy and mouth drooling. The music slowly becomes background sounds and the thing on the loudest volume in Johnny’s head is your moans and gasps. He decides to eat them, thus places his lips on yours once more - urging your hips to grind harder. Everything’s well until you pull away from your shared kiss only to have your eyes be met with a large man in a black balaclava. He was way bigger than Soap, and that was saying a lot. Your shocked scream got Soap tensing up, and looking behind himself. He sighs and slaps your cheek lightly with two fingers, “ye wee glaikit lass” he laughs, “thought you’d seen a ghost.”

You awkwardly laugh along and untangle your limbs, though, Soap isn’t letting you go at all. “Brilliant reaction in that case, as is his name.” He throws you a wink, while the man behind him only just stares at you. His black hoodie and jeans, paired with a pair of combat boots - make him blend into the dark background of the bar. You wouldn’t have noticed him if he didn’t want to be noticed. He finally lifts his hand and grasps the back of Soap’s neck, scruffing him, before leaning down to almost yell over the loud music into his ear, brown eyes never leaving yours. “Behave, sergeant.” And that’s all he needs to do before Soap reluctantly releases you and responds with an eye roll. “S’ry beauty, the beast needs me elsewhere.”

They both turn to leave but halt their movements when you shout your name towards them.

That was your second mistake.

#qna #kidnap!au #call of duty #cod #cod smut #ghoap #ghoap smut #ghoap x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #John soap mactavish smut #ghoap x reader smut #soap x reader #soap x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley

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