pleaselmhau

[pleaselmhau]

Another thought of Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost (pt. 2)

It’s been a six months since he came into your lives. Things have been going good, far too good. Ghost never thought he’d end up with a single parent, hell he thought he wasn’t the settling down type at all before all this. The relationship is easy, comfortable. Though he can’t help feeling like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. What ends up being the shoe is certainly not what he was expecting though.

You had mentioned some leaky pipes in the kitchen. He didn’t know what came over him, this domestic feeling that made him scoff at the idea of another man coming and taking care of that for you. That’s his job, to take care of you both. He knows it’s a bit ridiculous, a the repair person could be anyone, it doesn’t mean anything. But something deep settled inside him, a deep wanting to take care of these things as if to make up for the years you had to do it all alone. So not even a hour later he’s at your house with a box of tools, price tag still tied around the handle, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s doing.

He nearly has it, he thinks, wrench heavy in his hand. You offered your help, but he insisted he knew what he was doing. But then he hears the pitter patter of small feet on the tile and then a small form crashing right into him. He lets out a grunt, shifting to duck his head out from under the sink to look down at Lily. She’s all smiles, stumbling back from her hug to look eye level with him sitting on the floor. “Look, we made pictures today at school.” She beams, holding out a small stack of three drawings. He accepts them, large and calloused hand closing around the papers. His eyes survey the first one, an orange and white cat. “Very good,” he says instinctively. He doesn’t know when he became this, so domestic. Though it certainly has something to do with the little girl standing in front of him watching his face for approval.

He flips to the next one, a self portrait of her. He can feel his eyes crinkle in the corners as he takes in the wild colors of the outfit she drew herself in. Somewhere between a princess and walking rainbow. Then he flips to the last one and his breath hitches. Three figures standing hand in hand. One that clearly depicts you standing to the left. One that clearly depicts her standing in the middle. Then the last one standing to the right, tall with short blonde blonde hair. Big blocky letters under the bottom, spelling out ‘mom/dad’ under your picture, ‘me’ under hers, and ‘dad Simon’ under his. Lily had always called him just Simon until now. Fuck he doesn’t know what to do, if he should encourage this or explain he’s not biologically her father. But when he looks up and sees that almost nervous look in her eyes as she waits for his reaction he really realizes how deep he’s in. Because fuck does he want this. Wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted before. So he reaches out, pulling her back into a hug. “These are beautiful,” he finally says, earning excited noises as she squeezes her little arms around his shoulders.

You’re a bit confused when you walk into the kitchen to see Ghost sitting on the floor, hugging Lily with watery eyes, but all it takes is one look at the papers he’s clutching in his hand as if it’s his lifeline to realize.

[pleaselmhau]

Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

[pleaselmhau]

You knew Ghost wouldn’t go out of his way for Halloween, he barely even realizes the holidays happened when they passed. But you were determined to show him how fun Halloween can be by combining it with his favorite thing fucking you you.

When you handed him a wolf costume he nearly asked if you lost your goddamn mind. Though with a few many pleas and sweet looks he caved somewhat. You had gotten him a ridiculous set, but the look he gave the package and the muttered “fucking hell,” had you knowing you were not gonna get a tail tied around his waist. No matter how funny it would be to chase the big guy around trying to tie it on. So you settle for letting him wear his combat uniform, mask and all, and just the wolf ears. It’s not much but it does the trick. “Wait here,” you chime sweetly before scampering off to go put on your own costume.

You felt nervous under his piercing gaze, waiting for him to say anything, “well…?” You finally cave, needing to know what he was thinking behind those stoic eyes. His eyes trail over your bunny costume in full. The full white outfit, the thigh highs, the floppy bunny ears on either side of your head held in place by a headband, the way you did your makeup to make you’re eyes look bigger and made your nose pink. “It’s… cute.” He finally says. His brows raise just a bit as his eyes meet yours again. He’s standing on the opposite end of the hallway, having gotten bored of waiting and walked out of the bedroom just in time to see you coming out of the bathroom. He looks intimidating, standing there nearly blending into he shadows, two pointed ears on the top of his head and skull mask staring right back at you.

“You get it? Like you’re the wolf and I’m the bunny, we’re like a pair.” You add on, waiting for any real reaction really. His hands shift to the walls surrounding on either side of him, palms pressing flat against the hard surface. “Mhm,” he hums, still giving muted responses. “So like-..” you stammer out, but are cut off by him. “Well go on then, little rabbit, hop along.” Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment before you see him shifting his stance, getting ready. So he did know what you wanted. You suck in a sharp breath before swiveling around and taking off away from him. His hands, flat against the wall push off as he takes off after you.

To make the sharp turn faster he just slides right into the wall with a loud thud from how fast he took off and it startled the shit out of you. Of course you knew what he was doing, chasing you, but you didn’t realize how hard he would go. It makes you redouble your efforts, letting out a gasp as your socked feet press harder into the hardwood. Using your hand on the wall to slide around the next corner. You can hear his heavy footsteps behind you, the sound going quiet as he fully slides around the corner too like he’s trying to drift on his socks. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, your lungs just starting to burn as you quickly round the coffee table, pausing with him on the other side. His chest heaves, though you get the impression he’s putting on the full show for you rather than it being from exertion, he’s very in shape from his job. It works, maybe too well. Seeing him standing there at his full height, watching you with tunnel vision, body coiled like a snake ready to strike. You try to fake him out, stepping one way then going the other but he doesn’t budge much, just a slight shift in his weight. He lowers his center of gravity, one hand reaching forward slowly to rest on the coffee table and you realize what he’s doing just in time to sprint away as his foot presses to the coffee table and he vaults right over it. You don’t get far though.

His body slams right into your back, and your heart stops for a second as you almost crash face first into the hard wall, but his hands juts out, stopping both of you right before with his other arm around your waist. He doesn’t even give you a moment to catch your breath or to calm your racing heart, before he’s pushing your front right up against the wall. His body curls around yours, flush from head to knee. Well until one of his thighs slots between yours, knee pressing against the wall as his hands roughly pull your hips back so your ass is flush with his groin and his thigh is pressed up against your sex. You can feel the cold, hard plastic of his mask press into the side of your neck, followed by the scruffy fur of his cheap wolf ears brushing against your temple as he whispers in your ear. “Caught you.”

[pleaselmhau]

Soap with his scary goth babes 🤭

So I see Soap as bisexual with a thing toward scary bastards So just imagine Soap meets this lass and he’s going on and on about her, how pretty she is, perfect for him ah ah. The team finally one a day during a Christmas party Laswell is throwing or something tell Soap to bring her and he does. Cue the baddest looking goth woman walking in. Full goth makeup, teased hair, tons of accessories, skull printed skirt, platform boots and all. She’s grumpy in an endearing way, stoic, dry humor and all. And in Ghost’s head he is just like

Cause that’s literally a female version of him. Ghost and her hit it off, exchanging their driest jokes all night, and soap is just standing there grinning with his arms around her.

Nsfw under cut

Starts with Soap inviting Ghost back to the guest room with them, Ghost and the lass share a knowing look before both agreeing.

Soap wrapped around the lass, making them both stumble a little while Ghost follows behind in steady steps, shutting the door behind him. He can’t help thinking what the bloody hell he got himself into when he watches Soap messily kissing at her lips, tongue pressing into her mouth. Ghost doesn’t really know what to do with himself until Soap breaks away from the lass and nods his head toward the edge of the bed, “you coming, LT?” fuck Ghost’s feet are moving before he can talk himself out of it, carrying himself to the edge of the bed, where he sits. Then he’s having a lass plopped right on his lap by Soap, her tights snag on his pants and rip a little bit she doesn’t seem to care, pressing herself forward into Ghost. “He talks about you all the time,” she says with a hum. Ghost’s hands finally find something to do, one on her hip and the other tangling in her teased hair. “Yeah?” Ghost says gruffly before he sees Soap’s grinning face poke around her, cheek to cheek, his chest to her back. “Yeah, always t-“ Ghost watches as the lass shuts Soap right up with a look and hand to his chin, bringing her face close to Soap’s. She batts her long lashes, pinning Soap with her eyes. “Why don’t you get on your knees, hm?” She says raising her brows, “good boy.” Then her gaze is back on Ghost while Johnny does just that, happily sinking to his knees between Ghost’s spread thighs with a muttered, “well fuck me.” Ghost’s cock jumps to life watching the lass command, knowing just how to get her way. Then a chuckle rumbles from his chest, two rugged military men being bossed around by a pretty bird is not how he thought he’d spend his evening but here he is.

Turns into Ghost and the lass giving Johnny the best night of his life. Laying on his back, all sprawled out, with his legs up around Ghost’s hips, getting his ass stretched for the first time to take Ghost’s cock. While his lass sits on his face, his tongue lapping at her pretty pussy and muffling his moans. Her hand reaches down, wrapping around Soap’s cock and giving it steady tugs. When Ghost finally sinks in, his hips coming flush, Soap’s head goes fuzzy and he starts lacking on eating her out. So she reaches down with her free hand, giving him a few light taps to his cheek, “come on baby, keep going,” she purrs, rocking her hips against his face. Ghost is mesmerized watching the two of them interact, well until her eyes lift to him too, raising her brows. “Don’t tell me you need to be corrected too?” His own brows raise before he gives a sharp thrust into Soap, earning a muffled groan from the man underneath them. She smirks muttering out a “good,” before slotting her lips back over Ghost’s as they find a steady rythym. They could die a happy men right then and there.

The fun part is they can always explore so many dynamics considering Soap and her are full switches, Ghost I see as preferring a dominant role, but occasionally letting them take the reins.

[pleaselmhau]

Okay but like husband Simon Riley (and Price too) having a lovely bird who sets up a real romantic dinner. The table is set with the placemats, candles, good silverware and plates. A small speaker off to the side places some enchanting background music. In the center of the table sits a big pot of stew, a hearty meal for a hearty man. The missus all dolled up, welcoming home with an embrace and kiss to the cheeks. His eyes flickering over to the table and his brows raising in question. “Wanted to treat you, you deserve it,” she chimes so sweetly, standing on her top toes to give him a big smooch before excitedly dragging him over to the table. He grunts, barely able to get his boots off first. “Alright, love, it’s not going anywhere, give me a minute,” he says all gruffly, but is pliant in letting her drag him over. He looks down at her bright eyes and beaming smile of pride at her handiwork and can’t help but to affectionately brush his hand over her head and give a kiss to her forehead. “Looks good,” he says, giving her butt a loving pat before settling in his seat.

It’s not until he’s grasping the ladle, pouring a big portion of the stew into his bowl that he notices something off. It smells… sweet. He pays it no mind though, his missus made it so he will clear his plate. As soon as the spoon reaches his mouth though his throat muscles clench and he pauses. It’s… edible he thinks but god does it taste so bad. His eyes lift to meet hers, all sweet and expecting, so he does the only logical thing, “good,” he says gruffly, shoveling the next bite in. He rests his forearms on the table, fully prepared to chow down the stew as fast as possible. She claps her hands together, beaming even more until she takes a bite herself. He watches her smile falter for a moment, even a hint of confusion fill her eyes. He may be a hardened solider, a killer, scary ass bastard or whatever, but he refuses to be a bad husband. His missus is his everything, puts up with all his shit, so yeah, he’s gonna eat the bad stew with smile because she made it for him. Besides he’s had far worst on field. “Unique flavor.” He adds, relieved when she doesn’t question further why he likes it while even she’s questioning what she did to make it turn out such a disaster.

She keeps making it that way though because she thinks he likes it and he just accepts this is the price he has to pay for a happy wife. A small price to pay if you ask him

[pleaselmhau]

Chat, I’m sorry for my word vomit (Some sexual content ahead)

I know it’s not just me but like I love big and meaty Simon Riley. Mr. takes up so much space Riley. Like sometimes I’ll be writing and I’m like

😔 I can not put into words how beefy this man is 😖

Just imagine hugging him and you literally feel his pecs squishing your cheeks. His big arms wrapping around your head so well it blocks out any sounds.

Man has stretch marks. I just know, I can feel it in my bones. Little white lines along his back from growing too tall too fast, on the insides of his biceps from gaining muscle too fast, on his hips, because I say so.

Like just ahhhh how his big fleshy hips would feel under you as you bounced on his cock. Man’s so big and strong he can just dig his heels into the bed and do hip thrusts like he’s working out. His thick thighs flexing with each raise of his hips. The little pouch on his lower stomach making rolls whenever he coming back down. Will absolutely lay you back on his chest, spread your legs wide over his meaty thighs and fuck into you as soon as you give him that pouty lip and watery eyes complaining your thighs are aching too much to keep bouncing. It’s okay babes he got you.

I just want to gnaw on his biceps while he has me in a headlock

[pleaselmhau]

Just imagine the sweet little medic on base, the one always giving those beaming smiles and soft touches is the one who wormed their way into Ghost’s heart. It started with him sitting on the shabby cot, having half the mind to just stitch himself up after waiting so long. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place but infection meant he’d be out of commission and that’s not happening. Eventually the sweetest thing comes sauntering on in and instantly he’s glaring. Of course the universe is taunting him. Why else would it put them in here with him? Their cheesy jokes make him roll his eyes, wanting them to just shut up and finally finishing stitching. He’s surprised though when they do finish rather quickly. The stitches are neat too even though they were yapping the whole time. So now he’s torn between being his grumpy self and his begrudging respect for their skills.

So he starts coming to them whenever he’s busted up, he’s a man of habit after all. Not having to risk whatever medic is assigned to him being more annoying or worse bad at their job is one worry he can tick off. Their cheesy jokes start to work on him, complimenting his dry humor truthfully quite well until he has to catch him self grinning a little and pop back on his scowl. Then their sweet smiles start disarming him until one day he’s just look down at their goofy smile and bright eyes and just thinks fuck.

He starts chatting a little more when he comes and starts seeing them more for smaller injuries. Now all of the sudden he’s stopping by the medbay for bruises and shallow cuts too. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he wants, but man does his feet always seem to bring him right back here in front of them. They must notice too as they start tagging along when he’s around base and free, going to the mess hall with him, on his morning walks, even sometimes joining him for training. Until one night they have a few drinks and an hour later they’re under him moaning so sweetly while he’s rutting into them like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately for his defenses, there was. He expected the hookup to ruin whatever was blooming between them but nope, they come right back to his quarters a few nights later for seconds, then thirds, then… you get the picture.

Then he’s giving them a spare key to his quarters, not telling them he had to fake losing his own to get the second copy. At that point they should just sleep there every night right? So they do. It becomes his new routine, squeezing his worries and stress away into their soft, pliant body. Becomes an absolute softie at night when he’s sleepy. Grumbling something about not being comfy before plopping down right on them, practically suffocating them with his big meaty self.

Then his team is finding out because they come back late from a mission, two days late, and the medic is barreling right for him, wrapping him up in an embrace. He watches Soap, Gaz, and Price’s brows raise in question but he doesn’t even really have the answers to himself. He just pats them on the back and plants a chaste kiss right on their forehead, telling them to go back to his quarters and that he’ll be up in a bit. Soap and Gaz tease him, earning sharp glares. Price grumbles something about interpersonal work relationships, but Ghost knows the captain wouldn’t snitch. Ghost doesn’t open up to anyone, Price won’t jeopardize his exception. Beneath it all they’re just happy Ghost is becoming a little less tense, still grumpy, but not as constantly on edge as he used to be.

[pleaselmhau]

I’ll Come Home to You

Ghost is making his way back to the missus while having memories of how their relationship developed

18+, implied and explicit sexual content, oral (male receiving), v sex, angst, depicted gun violence/wounds, death

——————————————————————————

Honestly, this last deployment seemed to pass in a blur. It was like one minute he was running through gunfire, boots kicking up mud and the next bright driveway lights illuminated his path like beacons calling him home. He chalked it up to just being homesick, of missing the missus. The smooth pavement under his boots, redone a few years ago, leads to his secluded cabin. He always liked the idea of owning a house where he could disappear. Somewhere he could be himself, somewhere he can call home. Home. It's such a strange concept he never gave much thought to. Of course, he had this house before her. He resided there, slept there, and ate there, so technically it was his home. But in his head, he didn’t have a home before he had someone to come back to. As he nears his cabin he thinks back to the first time he brought her home.

“You’re not like gonna kill me or something?” She had said, masking her slight panic behind humor. The look he gave her told her to simmer down. “I just haven’t gotten to paving the driveway yet, old owners let it go to shite.” His explanation seemed to placate her some, but one look at his shabby little cabin in the middle of nowhere had her second-guessing again. He didn’t give her a reason to fear him, but it was only their third date and he was bringing her here and well, he looked like the type of man who could snap her like a twig if desired. He had reached over the center console and a large, calloused hand wrapped around her head, drawing her mouth to his. The kiss was chaste but sweet. “I can see the gears shifting in that pretty little head, want to hold my gun? Even the playing field.” He breathed against her lips. Accidentally getting shot in his own house with his own gun by a civilian was a risk he’d been willing to take that day if she’d just stop being so jumpy. Besides he trusted that he was sure of what her answer would be before he even said the words. Her lips parted in indignation, or maybe just surprise. Either way, she quickly spat out in one breath, “No, I do not want to hold your gun.” His chuckle filled the air before he turned off his truck and climbed out of the driver's seat, shutting the door behind him. In a few long strides, he made his way around the car to her side. With a quick tug, he opened her car door. Resting his forearms on the top rim of the car he leaned in, watching her collect her few things from the cup holders. He was about to tell her to relax when he watched her eyes meet his and then drift down his chest, to where his shirt raised to reveal a sliver of midriff, of the little trail of blonde hair descending from his bellybutton to under his waistband. Her gaze was heated, soaking in the sight before she jerked forward. Then her mouth slotted over his, quick kisses followed by her thighs shifting out of the car to wrap around his waist. His hands slid off the car to her thighs, palming the soft doughy flesh he’d eventually come to memorize before tugging her out of the car and up into his arms. He broke the kiss to peer over her shoulder as he kicked the car door shut and headed for the front of the house. “You better not hurt me,” she had reaffirmed, earning a gruff chuckle. “I won’t.”

With a deep inhale, he breathes in the familiar scent, letting his senses flood with home. How such a simple thing brought him so much peace was beyond him. He passes the light switch, remembering how bright the big fixative she picked out is he decides to leave it off to surprise his lass with his arrival. He can already imagine the happy smile that will light up her face and how she’ll fling herself into his arms. Last time he was sure she was trying to smother him in kisses so he could never leave again. With a small grin of his own, he walks toward the living room. Under the soothing smell of vanilla and something he can’t quite place, he can smell the scent of blood and mud clinging to him. He wants to shower before seeing her so he can be properly welcomed home. It’s a ritual he had picked up from his previous deployments, not wanting to bring the field, the missions, and the death into their home, near her. As he passes the couch his eyes drift down to the coffee table, narrowly avoiding walking into it in the dimlight. He notices the small notch carved into the coffee table, a familiar sight that makes him grin a little wider.

A grunt had escaped his lips when he felt a weight settle on his hips. He was sprawled out on his back on the plush sofa they just bought that day, just a week into living together after her insistence the one he had was far too worn out. He had to admit, this new one was rather comfy, as soon as he laid back on it and closed his eyes he could feel himself shifting into a relaxed state, not quite asleep yet but close. Behind his eyelids, he saw a flash of red and heard a click. His brows had furrowed before he opened his eyes to be face to face with a Polaroid camera and his grinning beauty. “cheeky, real cheeky,” he grumbled as his hand snapped up, reaching for the camera that she pulled just out of reach in time. A squeal escaped her lips as she moved to shift off him, his hands were quicker but he couldn't stop the momentum. Both of them tumble to the ground, in the space between the coffee table and the couch. A loud thunk rang out into the air as the camera hit the side, leaving behind a chink in the wood. His knees pressed into the carpet, ensuring all his weight didn’t crush his lass as she laughed, happy bubbling laughs that filled the space around them. “Is it okay? Is the camera okay?” she asked trying to sound concerned but her bright smile and melodies betrayed her happiness. With a fluid motion, he pulled the camera up to his face, directed it down at her, and pressed the button. A few moments later a small Polaroid started to print out that he stuffed into his pocket. A reminder of her will be nice when he’s away on missions and right he was. “I think you should be more concerned about that pretty little arse of yours,” He drawled as he set the camera down on the coffee table, “where’s the picture you took?” his hands pressed to her sides, patting her pockets before searching their way up her sides. “No, you can't have it,” she squealed between giggles, squirming until she got her hands and knees under her to try and crawl to her escape. He was faster again though, or maybe she wanted to be caught. He had pressed his body over hers, one arm wrapping her waist to keep her back flush to his chest. “Oh? You gonna make me find it, darling?” He purred into her ear, he hadn’t recognized his own voice in that moment but that tone was one he grew to recognize as part of him the more she drew it out. “Did you hide it here?” his hands slipped under her shirt, cupping over her breasts. They just filled his large hands and he remembers being pleased to find she wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumbs brushed over her nipples earning him a breathy moan. “nope, not there,” he hummed, giving her breasts one more squeeze before feeling his way down to her pants, with one hand he unbuttoned them giving his hand enough room to slip under the fabric. “Hmm, is it here?” Came his next tease, cupping his hand over her warm mound. He paused until she gave a response that time which ended up being a shake of her head and some more breathy sighs as she ground her hips back against his still hand. “I don't know,” he said as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck, “Think I might have to check more thoroughly.”

He never did find where she hid it, but he couldn’t be bothered the moment he felt her tight pussy wrapped around his cock. The memory brings a shiver down his spine but he presses on. He’ll have plenty of time to remember his lover’s body once he gets to them. But first, he needs to get this smell out of his skin and clothes. His feet move with memory, bringing him to the bathroom. He steps inside walking to the shower, hopefully, she doesn’t hear the sound of it running from across the house. His fingers curl around the handle though the expecting rain of water never comes. He feels his forehead wrinkle with confusion as he tries a few more times yet the handle doesn’t even budge. Bloody hell, guess he knows what he’s doing tomorrow.

He laid on his back on the cold bathroom floor, his head inside the sink cabinet as he tightened and worked the wrench over and over in a twisting motion. Of course, the old cabin had piping problems he had thought. Truthfully he didn't mind though, he rather enjoyed keeping his hands busy when he was back home. He felt warm hands suddenly pressing to his stomach, smoothing over his abdomen in a firm caress, he didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Almost done, just a little longer,” He said. Though the firm rubs to his waist and lower stomach didn’t cease, “You look so good,” soft lips brushed over his chilled skin, pausing to press a soft kiss to a scar tracing his hip. “It’s so hot how you take care of the house, of me.” he felt her words just as much as he heard them, heated breaths fanning across his skin. He couldn’t stop the soft groan when a warm palm pressed over the bulge that had been forming in his sweatpants. His eyes stayed fixed on the piping even as his body reacted to her soft caresses. “Yeah, why don’t ya show me how much?” His voice was low, a seductive grumble as he spread his thighs some more for her to comfortably settle between them. Her response was firmer kisses to his skin right above his waistband as her hands tug down his sweat until his cock sprung free, hard, and thick. He felt a hand wrap around his shaft as soft lips pressed to the tip. He tried to focus on finishing up fixing the sink, but the feeling of her warm wet mouth suckling on half his length while she stroked the remaining had his mind going blank. “Fuck, that’s it darling, just like that.” one of his hands reached down, tangling through her hair as his hips bucked up. He felt her mouth swallow around him and it had his head falling back against the wood and a groan escaping his lips. With a final twist, he tightened the last piece before sitting up straight again. His hand in her hair brought her mouth up to his own. His lips devoured hers, heavy and passionate tasting himself on her. He tugged her into his lap with firm hands. “Atta girl,” he growled into her ear and pressed his hips against hers.

Cutting his losses with the shower his feet carry him out of the bathroom, continuing down the hall. He’ll just have to use the shower in the master bedroom’s bathroom. Taking a shower with the missus doesn’t sound too bad actually. As he continues around the corner he pauses at the kitchen. Where she had said those three little words the first time.

He had been making breakfast for the two of them wearing an apron she got for him, it was supposed to be a joke but it was rather practical and worked well so he kept it. The white fabric stood stark against his dark sweatpants, red kiss marks covering it in a tacky pattern and the words ‘kiss the chef’ embroidered on the front. The apron, the lack of clothing underneath beside his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his missing mask, and how he was making breakfast all painted him in a domestic light he wasn’t sure he was ready for then. Yet, the way hands slipped under the front of his apron, feeling up his chest from behind dulled any thoughts of stopping what was in motion. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he had grumbled, grumpy that his in-bed breakfast was ruined. “Aw, are you making me breakfast?” She teased, a warm smile encompassing her lips. He felt her head peer around him to see what he was making and let his eyes drift down to her. She looked so pretty, so full of life. With one hand on her hip, he had directed her body to stand in front of his. His arms caged her in on either side as he continued to push around the scrambled eggs in the pan. “No,” he lied, though the small twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. “You were!” She gasps with an airy laugh. Her arms wrap around his midsection, her soft body pressing into his. He pretended to not feel her eyes drinking in every detail of him, by staying focused on cooking. “I love you, Simon” she blurted out suddenly in a soft whisper, drawing his gaze quickly down to her. She had the widest smile he’d ever seen, looking up at him like he could be the man who deserved her. “You um… don’t have to say it back. That’s okay if you need time. I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” she had started to nervously ramble. She wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t ready to say it back, but that didn’t mean his heart didn’t flutter hearing her say it so he did all he could think of at that moment. He bent at the waist and brought his lips to hers to hush her silly apologies for giving him exactly what he needed. He turned off the stove before his hands slid over her hips lifting her onto the countertop. He couldn’t get enough of her, he filled his senses with her in every way he could. Smelling in her soothing scent, feeling her plush curves, tasting her sweet arousal between her thighs, hearing those soft gasps of his name. When he had wrapped her thighs around his hips and pushed his cock deep inside her tight heat he had grunted into her warm skin, letting out heavy exhales as he demanded, “Say it again.” She had paused, having to take a moment to process what his request meant, but was interrupted by his hips drawing back and snapping into her. “Say that you love me again,” he clarifies as his hips work up into a steady rhythm slapping into hers. “I love you, Simon, I love you, I love you,” she chanted eagerly as his commands for more melted into pleas. “That’s it, gonna come undone for the man you love?” He had growled, hand drifting down to rub at her sensitive clit until she was throbbing around him. She let out hiccuped moans as she nodded her head quickly. When she did, melting completely into him he was starstruck. Watching her pretty face flush, her mantras of declarations of love, her hands grip at him as if willing this moment to never end. To be honest, he never wanted it to end either.

His gaze drifts from the stove over to the door by the little cabinet where two dog bowls sit, one for water and one for food. Pieces of dog food surround the bowl, no doubt scattered about from Riley.

He had just gotten back from the store when he stepped into the kitchen to come face to face with a dog he definitely didn’t remember getting. The dog looked like a mutt, some mix between a Lab and a German Shepherd maybe, he wasn’t sure. The dog had sat there, staring back at him with a slight tilt in his head. He felt like he was in a stand-off in his own home. Until his missus came in the room, her brows lifting as she took in the two staring at each other. “Isn’t he cute?” She chirped happily. He felt his eyes narrow before snapping over to her and losing the staring contest. “Absolutely not,” his words were firm, knowing exactly where this was going. “Oh please, please, I found him on my way home. I couldn’t just leave him!” She whined, immediately putting on the full works as she dramatically pressed her hands together in prayer. “So you stole someone’s runaway dog.” He responded, still unconvinced. “No, I checked. No tags, no collar, and no missing dog posters, checked all the local social media groups for missing pets. He’s a true stray.” His eyes narrowed further trying to come up with another excuse. He needed something fast as those sweet pleading eyes and pouting lips were swaying him more than he cared to admit. “Plus… it’ll be nice to not be alone while you’re overseas.” She said softer, a hint of the loneliness that she felt while he was away seeped through her words. His face softened, there was no arguing with that. She grinned in her victory as she crouched down to scratch behind the dog's ears. “You’re one of us now, a Riley,” she hummed.

Honestly, Riley turned out to be a good dog. The pup grew on him. He continues out of the kitchen into the hallway, spotting his favorite commodity in the house, the thermostat. He knows it may be a little wrong how he used it to manipulate, but he will never regret keeping his missus by his side.

He remembers the first big argument they had. He had to stop by a military base near home to drop off some paperwork and got distracted helping out a newer drill sergeant getting the newbies under control. This was a rare occurrence as he didn’t have much business on military bases stationed near home, plus he wasn’t on deployment, but up until that point, he didn’t realize how much she struggled at home when he was gone. His being late for their date night just was the straw that broke the camel's back. She stood there tapping her foot with tear-filled eyes as soon as he got back. He had tried to explain but realized it was no use. She wasn’t mad he was late, she was upset at how even in the small amount of time she did get him home he still was late. He got defensive, snapping back, “That’s my job, lass, you knew you were getting with a soldier from the start.” His words, dismissive of her emotions caused her tears to finally spill over before she stomped off. Fuck he felt miserable, he could see her side he just wasn’t used to having to consider someone else in his decisions. Even then simmering in his guilt he had no clue how to approach her first. It was at that moment he spotted the thermostat and got an idea. Sure enough, as the house started dropping to chillier numbers over the next hour, not outright cold but definitely chilly, she had come stumbling out of the bedroom wrapped up in her blanket like a cocoon. “I can’t sleep,” she had said so softly he felt guilty, really he did. But not enough to stop when she’d always come to him, trying to soak up his body heat. Then he’d atone every time, pulling her into his lap and pressing soft kisses to her chilled face and chilled hands while apologizing for earlier. And that night of their first blow-up he had finally said the words he had been mulling over for weeks, “I love you,” he whispered so quietly into her hair he wasn’t sure she heard or not until her pretty eyes lifted to his.

He continues to pass the thermostat through the hallway leading to their bedroom and steps past the reading nook he built for her. A comfy little bay window bench across from a stuffed bookshelf. The bedroom door lies just ahead.

“You gonna sleep here or something?” He asks with a hint of amusement. She hasn’t left the nook since he finished early this morning and Riley stayed faithfully by her side at her feet. Her eyes are lifted toward the sky through the window glass. Ignoring his question she gives a gentle tug to his hand, pulling him down onto the bench with her. He relents, settling into the limited space by pulling her legs over his lap. His hand gently trails calloused fingers back and forth over her calves. “The stars are beautiful.” He tilts his head taking a gander at her view. “Same as every night,” he responds. His head settles straight again, eyes fixing on her. The moonlight bathed her in an ethereal glow that made his pulse flutter. “Do you ever wonder what exists beyond us?” She asks, her face relaxed but contemplative. He gives merely a moment before responding, “Not really.” He doesn’t mean it dismissively and it’s clear she doesn’t take it as such, her gaze flickering to him as she tilts her head a little. “Never thought about what heaven would be like if it’s real?” He gives a longer moment of silence this time, though he knows his answer right away. How could he not when it was staring right back at him so sweetly? “Heaven and hell are just words to me. You are the closest thing I’ll ever get to anything divine.” Her cheeks flush as heat rises, her lips twitching up into a smile she can’t stop even as she tries to force a playful pout. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Yes baby, we’ll live happily ever after in heaven together.’” She teases, goading more of his rare sweet words. His brows raise, but he doesn’t disappoint. “My Heaven is wherever you are.”

Finally reaching their bedroom his heart swells with excitement, he can almost feel her warm embrace now. Just knowing she's around the corner makes his heart flutter in his chest and his legs work a little faster. But a sound, so faint and broken, has his feet pausing in the doorway. “You said you wouldn't hurt me, you said-” fills the room in a drowning mantra. Croaks of agony tear through the air like blades slicing. His throat clenches and his body paralyzes as he spots the love of his life, crouched over clutching something to her chest. Riley lays beside her, furry eyebrows lifting with every nervous glance he gives her. His body lays into her, but their furry companion provides little comfort against her inferno. Big glossy tears streak her cheeks before pelting wherever they flee. Her hands tremble, twisting and clutching something she holds close to her chest. She rocks back and forth, trying to self-soothe but the sobs continue to wrack through her with an intensity that is only paused when a sharp bark fills the air. Riley stares him down in the doorway with piercing eyes, letting out a few more barks, but loyally does not leave her side. Her eyes, swollen and wet, lift to where he stands, where Riley is staring, but she looks through him as if he merely didn't exist. “There's nothing there, Riley,” she croaks, voice broken. It is only when her hands leave her chest to give Riley some soothing strokes does he sees what she was clutching. A silver glint catches his eye, smooth metal in an oval shape with the name Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley engraved in. His hand lifts to his chest where his dog tags should be hanging only to find the spot empty and one last memory floods his head.

Bullets whizz past in a frenzy as his boots kick up mud. With a thud he falls back behind the totaled car, taking shelter for some much-needed respite. He feels his lungs collapse, sealed shut for a few long terrifying moments before they open again for him to greedily suck air in. His arm jerks reminding him of the pain he should feel. But he doesn't, he just feels a rush of warmth, so much warmth spilling out of him. His eyes focus in and out before finally settling on his hand. Blood webs and drips between his fingers, soaking into his glove. With resolve, he presses it back to his side, just above his hips. As if he just needed to know what was happening before feeling it a throbbing burn spread from his waist up his spine. With a splutter, he coughed and felt the spray of crimson that followed. With a hitched breath his head thuds back against the cold metal, his eyes focusing up on the sky. The stars are just as beautiful as ever. His free hand drags it up to his vest. His arm feels impossibly heavy like someone poured concrete into his veins. His fingers stiffen brushing against his dog tags dangling around his neck, barely cooperating as he pushes open his favorite pocket. Gloved fingers pinch around smooth paper before falling down to his thigh. His eyes follow as another cough escapes his lips. His thumb brushes over the polaroid, eyelids growing heavy as he takes in the captured moment one last time. The warm smile that is waiting for him to come back home. “I’m coming, love, I’ll come home to you.”

[pleaselmhau]

Bark, No Bite

18+ explicit sexual content, light predator/prey, injury/blood, spit kink, fluffy ending

He feels rabid, like some bloody mutt frothing at the maw. Good, he thinks, maybe she’ll come to her senses and shove him away before they get too deep into this. But she doesn’t, no, she just cups her perfect hands over his cheeks and holds his gaze. Naive little thing, doesn’t she know who he is? What he has done? Bloody hell, if anyone just looked at him they could see it in the hard ridges of his muscles, in the scars that decorate his body, in his mask, in everything about him. Nothing about him whispers lover. Yet here she is inviting a warmth between them that will surely engulf him in fierce fire at any moment. Every time she batts those perfect lashes up at him, or nibbles on those perfect lips, it undoes another thread of his self-control.

His hands clasp around her waist, dragging her closer until she’s enclosed with his form. He’s never felt bigger, never fully comprehended how much space he took up until he was taking hers. “You want me so bad?” His mocking words rumble in his throat like a growl. “Let me explain this one time for you. I’m not some broken man for you to fix. I will eat you whole if you let me in, so think about this long and hard.”

“Yes, I want-“ her words are quick, she already knew long before this moment. It pulls another frustrated sharp exhale from him though. “No, fucking think about it for more than two seconds, love.” Her pretty eyes narrow and her bottom lip juts out in a pout. She’s so sure who he is and that she wants him it makes his bones ache. “Fine,” he spits out. “We’ll see how you feel after.” His hand jerks up, fingers digging into her jaw as he holds her head tilted back. “When you want to stop you say so.” He breathes out, warm air fanning over her face. He’s just as sure as she is about how this will end. She tries to nod her head, but his hold tightens keeping it still. “Use your words,” He commands. “yes.”

The ground must feel cold and hard against her back, he can even feel it in his palms and knees as he stares down at her. She looks out of place already on the unforgiving concrete under him. Like a flower sprouting between the cracks of a sidewalk, destined to be trampled by careless feet. A grunt leaves him as he lowers himself onto his forearms. He doesn’t bother lifting his mask at all, he just presses the coarse fabric to her throat, kissing her soft skin through the material. His cheek drags across hers, leaving behind a pinkish color like a rug burn. But she lets out the sweetest whine when his teeth nip at the throbbing pulse point on the side of her neck. He can feel his saliva seeping into the fabric of his mask, making the air he sucks in more humid. Somehow it feels right, like he should only be breathing in the heavy musk during this.

He presses his knees to the concrete between her spread legs and scrapes his hands down her sides to her hips. With a quick jerk, he lifts her hips off the ground, pulling a surprised gasp from her lips. His hands slot her lower half against his until he can feel the heat from between her thighs against his crotch. Her thighs press to his sides but don’t lock around his back. On his knees he walks up until her lower half is slightly curled, limiting her movement. It can’t be comfortable, especially on such a hard surface but not a single complaint leaves her perfect lips.

He pulls back on his haunches just enough to take in the view. Of her spread out so submissively under him. So vulnerable, helpless. “Have you ever been with a man like me?” He leans back in but this time to be face to face with his prize. It’s intoxicating watching her eyes flutter to his, her lips part in response. “No,” she sighs, tugging a dark smirk to his lips. It’s hidden behind his mask but the crinkles around his eyes betray his amusement. “Poor little rabbit has never been devoured before?” He coos mockingly, trying to get a rise. Though when her lips part this time to respond he presses his face to hers. He’d never kissed someone through his mask before, he honestly didn’t quite know what he thought of it until her tongue pressed against the material, putting a slight pressure on his lips. Her eyes flutter close and he realizes she’s tasting his spit that soaked into the mask earlier. His eyes darken, narrowing as he watches what he can see on her face. In his mouth, he gathers a glob of spit on his tongue before pressing it to the fabric. This time he can taste her mouth in the material which pulls a low groan from him. It’s weird, for lack of better words. The sort of thing you do while horny then think about later, but fuck does she look hot trying to taste him so desperately.

He pulls back, just enough to break the contact. He wonders how cruel she’ll let him be before realizing she’s in over her head. Exactly how messy can he get her until she stops him? It’s a pessimistic thought, but at the same time, she should have known better. What kind of bunny hops right in the arms of a mutt? A brave one or a stupid one, he’ll find out which she is by the end of this. Before he realizes one of his hands is yanking up his mask until it bunches around his nose exposing just his lips. He watches how her eyes drink in every little glimpse of his skin she gets and it makes his stomach coil.

“Open your mouth,” he growls, punctuating his words with a roll of his hips rough into hers. She moans like she forgot their hips were slotted together, so he does it again, pressing her hips into the concrete with his own until her pretty lips part hesitantly. He can see her tongue work, not sure where to be positioned under his scrutiny and it makes his eyes crinkle with amusement again. His fingers dig into her cheeks until she opens wider before he leans over and slowly lets a glob of spit slide from between his lips into hers. She tries to close her mouth, to swallow it but thinks better when he gives a warning tap to her face with his palm. The second time he spits it’s with force, pelting the inside of her mouth.

Her cheeks are flushed and her nose crinkles, but she swallows it when his hand pushes her chin up, closing her mouth and directing her gaze to the ceiling. His free hand grips the collar of her shirt and gives it a sharp tug, pops ring out in the air with broken threads but he doesn’t tear it yet, just stretches it out until he can get to her neck fully. Her hands fly to his shoulders, a complaint flying to her lips, “Don't stretch it out,“ she doesn’t get to finish the complaint before his hand pushes her head back harder, her chin tilted up until the skin of her throat is taut. “Shut up,” he grumbles, a surprising lack of bite to the words despite his actions. Though he’s sure it’s got to do with the sweet body pressed against his. He presses quick and heavy open-mouth kisses over her chest, pausing only to suck soft skin into his mouth until the top of her chest and the base of her throat is covered in reddish splotches.

Her body is pliant under his hands even as they roam selfishly. He squeezes her waist, her thighs, her ass, and everything in between like he’s testing her durability or seeing how much he can grab of her. It feels almost unholy to him, pawing at such a sweet creature. She’s so malleable, so pretty like a Renaissance painting of a goddess. His hands are made to break, not to caress something so soft. Even so, he can’t tear his gaze away from how the fat of her hips indents at his thick fingers, how he can push and pull on the flesh like he might actually have some right to do so. He knows he doesn’t, he should leave her be in her own perfect world where mutts don’t get the right to drool over little rabbits. The thought makes him bitter. She could be anywhere, could be under a good man, someone who’d caress her in tender strokes and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Yet here she is torturing him with the knowledge he could never truly have someone like her, only the taste. He wants to sink his teeth in, to chew on her until she can never forget that she let someone like him touch her. Like how he knows he’ll never forget this.

He can feel his muscles coil up like a snake before striking. His fingers dig into the soft flesh bold her stomach as he rips up her shirt, pulling out a quick breath from her lips. The fabric pops a few more times until he can toss it to the side as though it personally offended him. His hands press over the soft mound of her breasts, squeezing until her breathing stutters. At the same time, his hips snap into hers, it is not a roll, it’s an aggressive shove. His mouth pools with saliva at how delicious she looks under him, he leans down, pressing his tongue to her navel, where the waistband of her pants sits. With a slow, wet stripe he licks up the center of her body to her throat. He drags his tongue across one of her breasts, wrapping his lips in a tight seal around the nipple. With fervor, he lavished her breast with harsh sucks, wet licks, and quick nips.

His hands, meanwhile, drag down her soft stomach to the waistline of her jeans. With an impatient tug, the button pops open and he’s tugging the jeans down her legs with quick pulls. Hard enough her panties shift, half coming off with the jeans. It only takes his hand clasping down on the center of her panties and one more tug for those to come the rest of the way off too. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he rumbles. Even in the compliment, it’s said through clenched teeth making it sound more like a jab. His eyes fluttered up to meet her own to bore through her like he was trying to take apart her mind piece by piece with just his stare.

He watches as her pretty eyes widen when he slowly presses his middle finger to the knuckle inside her sweet cunt. A hitched breath leaves them both for similar reasons. When he finds she’s wet enough to slip in another he does. He listens to her sweet mewl at finally having something inside. Though instead of pumping his fingers instead his palm curls around her mound as he positions her how he wants again. His free hand shoves one of her thighs up to her chest and out as far as it’ll go and he slides back enough he can come face to face with the source of his undoing. His hand pulls back, just enough so he can study her pussy with an intense gaze. “Beautiful,” he repeats with a growl. And just when she thinks he may be getting gentler he shoves his finger back in up to the knuckle and begins to feast.

His mouth latches around her clit, lapping at it with quick licks while his fingers curl and rub over and over at her insides. It’s all too much too fast, making the pleasure tear through her and a gasp escape her lips. “Wai- slow down” she chokes out, trying to draw back, to crawl out of reach. An inhuman-sounding growl escaped his throat like a dog trying to scare off another from stealing its favorite bone. His hand immediately pulls out of her pussy and his other joins to grasp at her hips to hold her in place as his face follows her retreat. Thankfully though he seems to get the message and alters his rhythm. In a way, it almost seems mocking, as he presses his tongue harder against her clit, but moves it in slower circles and his fingers settle back into her. His fingers drawl out slowly before jabbing back in roughly. The whole time his eyes watch her face through the eyeholes of his mask. He’s toying with her, giving her what she asked but in a malicious compliance sort of way.

Truthfully he’s just exploring, doing as he pleases in the moment. So when she begs so sweetly, “a little faster, but gentler,” his brows raise. He knows how to properly please a woman, he just was enjoying his meal for his satisfaction, not hers. So it’s a little amusing she's correcting him like he just didn’t know what he was doing. He decides to play along though, out of curiosity for what she’ll do or say next and maybe as a reward for being so direct. He’s not quite sure. But he does adjust himself, focusing in on her pleasure. Swirling his tongue, dragging it over her little bundle of nerves until her thighs are trembling and her mouth drops open. Her fingers slide over his shoulders and the back of his neck. He’s acutely aware of her nails trailing gently over his skin, how they are not deterred when they run over a bump of a scar. She’s caressing him like a lover and he’s eating her out like a lover. He feels tricked even if logically he knows she did nothing wrong.

The thought makes him yank back, earning a whine of loss from her. His hands grasp one of her hips and thighs, twisting her over onto her stomach. Then his hands yank up her hips. He needs to be the beast again, to be rough enough he scares her off. She can’t show him such warmth, such kindness, because he knows he will come back if she does. He’s so fucking aware of how addictive she is. How if he lets himself pretend he can actually have her it’ll only tear him apart when she leaves. And if she knew she was getting under his skin then she would realize the power she has over him.

His hands feel clammy as he presses them against her back, her back is cold from being pressed against the ground making them feel even more clammy. He pushes on her lower back until she’s arched fully. “Fuck, look at you, you look seasoned love. Are you a natural or just a whore?” His tone drips with a condescending edge, but it’s not bitter anymore. He can see the heat creep up her neck to her cheeks. Her lips part like she wants to retort but doesn’t know what to say. “Guess it doesn’t matter either way, I’m gonna fuck you like one regardless.” He rumbles.

His hand unbuttons his pants and fishes out his cock, he’s been hard pretty much since he got his mouth between her thighs. He rubs the swollen head of his cock between her folds enjoying the feeling of her arousal painting his heated flesh. Breathy moans leave her lips and her hips push back, trying to get him to just sink in already, after all, he’s been working her up this whole time. He gives a sharp slap to her ass in warning. “Perfect little cunt,” he sighs out, taking his time to feel her velvety walls squeeze down on his cock as he feeds her inch by inch slowly. When he bottoms out she lets out a cute hiccup and he chuckles. “Is my cock too big for you, love?” An amused grin forms on his lips as she quickly shakes her head no. “Liar,” he chides, thrusting again but this time not all the way in. He rocks his hips forward, gaining more and more momentum with each thrust until he’s at a steady rhythm.

His hands push down on her lower back, keeping her in place as his hips snap over and over against hers. The only piece of clothing astrew on his uniform was his pants tugged down just enough to free his cock. His clothed thighs are pressed to hers, his hips coming flush with her ass with each thrust. He’s leaning over her, staring at her shoulders and the side of her face. His fingers dig into her ass and he thrusts in harder, planning on fucking her like he means it until he hears her croak. It takes his body a second to catch up so his hips meet hers again one more time and she lets out a loud yelp, face twisting up in pain. He realizes though it’s not from her cunt, it’s from her body rubbing against the concrete from his thrust. Shit, he thinks. Any ideas of being too rough float out of his head as he grabs her shoulders and pulls her back against him to see her chest and stomach reddened and raw. He reaches a hand down lifting her thigh some to inspect one of her knees and they’re worse, red and scraped, trickles of blood staining the concrete. He didn’t think this through, his pants kept him from feeling any friction with the rough surface.

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” He growls out in anger before he can stop himself. Her back is to his chest and he holds her up in his lap as he stays kneeling. His cock is starting to soften, but he doesn’t pull out yet. Her eyes flutter up to his as she looks over her shoulder, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “You said this would end if I did,” she explains. His eyes soften then narrow. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He retorts defensively. Though he knows he can’t really claim that. He’s been acting so distant and detached this whole he can see how she may think that he takes it as an admission of being too fragile for him.

He’s brought out of his thoughts when she grinds her hips back against him. “Please don’t stop, I want this, Ghost,” she whines, thinking his pause even now is gonna be him retreating from her entirely. He can feel something in him thawing, like a tight cord is losing some tension. When she rocks back again, more boldly, his cock starts to harden again inside her soft walls. “Alright, love, alright,” he breaths out. He wraps an arm around her hips, keeping her up in his lap as he widens his thighs to support both their weights better. His heavy boots provide enough traction for him to stay in place while slowly pulling his hips back and forth. His arm keeps her in place against his chest so he can pull out some while she’s still sitting on his thighs, but he can only give shallow movements. It’s slower, more intimate with their bodies so pressed together.

Her moans sound sweeter like they’re pouring out from her rather than being knocked out. He focuses on the sound of her as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. His hips continue to roll up over and over and for once he closes his eyes and just focuses on the feelings. He’s always been so goal-oriented in everything, especially sex, it always was about finding release. But now, this is different, with his limited range of motions he’s focused more on the feeling of being inside her, of filing that space and prodding it. His free hand creeps up the valley between her breasts and rests on her throat, not squeezing, just existing there. He can feel her heartbeat against his fingertips and it drawls a groan from his lips and makes his cock twitch. Why? He can’t figure out exactly. Maybe just the intimacy of it all.

His hand moves from her waist to press two fingers between her lips, finding her clit. He begins to rub it in tight circles as he continues to bounce her gently on his cock. It’s a slow build-up to an orgasm and feels better and better as time goes on. He feels oddly present in a way he hadn’t anticipated like he’s connecting with her properly for the first time. He curls against her back so he can peer over her shoulder at her face. Her eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted and cheeks flushed. She looks so beautiful lost in her pleasure. He continues like that until her walls flutter around his cock and she pants out a mantra of, “Oh god, Ghost, oh god, gonna cum,” he soaks in her pleasure, greedy for it. And it tips him over the edge. With a tug of her hips, he pulls out, leaning back so his cock is pressed to her pussy between her thighs, and thrusts against her folds before coming on her stomach with a groan. He stays there for a while, shifting back until he’s sitting on his butt with her in his lap, cock pressed to her stomach as it softens. Her head falls back against his shoulder and he lets out a long breath.

When he finally stands, carrying her up with him she lets out a whine of protest. He realizes he did the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do, get addicted. He wants to be upset, but truthfully it feels too good to live in this bliss right now to end it. He’ll deal with it later. “I know, but we’re not sleeping on the bloody floor, love.” His words soothe her as she realizes he’s not disappearing yet. He fixes himself, tucking his cock back in his pants and zipping them. Then with an arm around her waist, he picks up her torn shirt with the other. He can feel her leaning into him, not wanting to stand yet so keeps her to his chest, supporting her. He uses her shirt to wipe off his cum from her stomach before shrugging off his jacket. He drapes it over her, zipping it up before finding her panties and pants. He’s never done this, dressed a woman after sex but he kind of likes how she presses her hands to his shoulders when he crouches down and holds open her panties to step into. He tugs them up her frame followed by her pants. He’s careful to not agitate her scrapes too much. With his arm around her waist he leads her out, throwing out her ruined shirt on the way.

It takes only a few minutes to get her to his quarters and thankfully they don’t run into anyone on the way, it is rather late into the night. Once inside he strips off his uniform, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and grabbing a simple first aid box from the closet before joining her on the bed. She made herself right at home in his space and the thought doesn’t seem to scare him as much as he thought. He grips the waistline of her pants, tugging them back off and grabbing some disinfectant wipes and bandaids. He realizes this is out of character for him, but it feels right, he’s just thankful she doesn’t say anything about it. With careful swipes, he cleans up the dried blood from her knees before working open the bandaids and sticking them over the wounds. He scrunches up the waste papers in his hand and gets off the bed, throwing them out in a little trash by the door. He can feel her eyes following him, trying to make sense, but he doesn’t give a verbal answer.

When he’s done he merely climbs into bed as though she’s meant to be there. Like she’s always existed there. He figures she’ll be gone by morning and they’ll never speak of this again so he might as well enjoy it while it lasts. With a practiced motion he turns off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and lets her curl into his side. Absent-mindedly his hand moves to her back, pressing her closer into his side as her head rests on his chest. “Goodnight, Ghost,” she hums sleepily, and he grunts in reply. He closes his eyes, enjoying the calm. It feels much easier now like he went through every stage of grief and finally settled into acceptance. Well, that is until he hears her mumble out, “Your bed is comfy, next time we’ll have to do it in here.” After a few long moments, he hums his agreement. Brave little bunny getting cozy with the dog, and a dog too wrapped up in her to bite.

[pleaselmhau]

In-Between

A short fluffy blurb of Ghost being confronted with feelings.

This did not feel right. None of this felt right, but fuck, what even was right anymore. Wrong, yeah he can identify wrong. He sees it all the time on the field. He sees it in the civilians caught in the crossfire, in the corruption seeping into every facet of society, and so much more. Sure he may be following his list of morals, but wrong is easy. He was made to exist around anguish, maybe even end some of it. Even so, he will never feel like the savior longed for. He doesn’t bring good, he brings ends. An end to wrong does not necessarily mean the start of good, but at least he can say he does not perpetuate wrong.

He likes to believe that makes him a decent person, somewhere between black and white. It makes so much sense in his head that he's the in-between. So why is this woman looking up at him like he's fucking good? Like he's worth adoring. He doesn't know if he should be angry at how sure she is of who he is or if he should pity her for her rose-tinted glasses. Her sweet gaze feels like it's flaying him layer by layer until he is raw. He'd have looked away a long time ago if it didn't coil such a strong tension in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.” His voice is squeezed through the tight muscles of his throat like he’s punching them out.

Her brows furrow for a second in confusion, corners of her mouth twitching in an unsure grin, but even so, her eyes never relent in painting him as something he is not. “Looking at you like what?” she asks, her voice melodic, maybe even a bit playful like she's not quite sure what to make of his reaction. He sucks in a sharp breath that makes him acutely aware of the space his lungs take up in his chest. Why can’t she just understand he isn't built for right? His hand reaches out, fingers coiling around her jaw like vines wrap around a building. His fingers press into the soft skin of her cheeks, leaving little indents where the flesh gives way to pressure. The way he towers over her, the way he can feel her jaw in his palm, and the way he breathes in her exhales are the only things grounding him in this moment. This is why he likes residing in the wrong, he can make sense of it. All this makes him feel like he's one step away from entering a tornado. If she looked at him with disgust he could find justifications for it. If she ignored his presence he could ignore her too. If she insulted his skills he could roll his eyes. “Like a love-sick puppy.” His voice is calmer than before, but it rasps in his chest as though they're still being reluctantly dragged out from him.

The way her lips quirked up more like he said something amusing made his jaw clench. “Oh, you’re feeling things, Riley?” She coos teasingly. He knows she means it in good faith, but he doesn't like his emotional intelligence being prodded. He isn't an unfeeling brute, he just knows how to ignore them. Well, how to ignore them when she isn't challenging everything he knows about himself like she has a right to know him better than himself. When she realizes he won't be responding she fills the burning silence. “Why won’t you just let me love you?” Her voice is softer now, at least losing the teasing lilt, but he just scoffs at it, nudging her jaw as he releases her and turns away as if the question is ridiculous. He can see how his action makes her brows knit together, clearly festering in her gut, but he doesn’t correct the assumptions he knows she makes.

It is not that she isn't attractive, hell, she's one of the few people in the world he calls good. But that's the problem, he resides in a cocoon in all her parallels. Their worlds aren't supposed to cross; they're supposed to run in conjunction without ever touching. He expects her to cut her losses and leave, that's what he would do, but instead, she steps into him again. His head shakes on its own as if cursing him for his stupidity. Of course, she would insist on this, why would he assume she would do what he would when all he has been thinking is how opposite she is? His eye focuses on a crack in the wall, following its rigid lines streaking the plaster. He can’t look at her, can’t let himself be sucked into the tornado of her adoring gazes, soft touches, and open emotions. He realizes though that she has to have thawed him at least a little, after all his feet stay rooted in place like a statue instead of simply leading him back to his familiar world. She seems to realize this too at least subconsciously, her hand sheepishly sliding into his own. His fingers twitch instinctively but his hand doesn’t curl around hers too when her fingers interlace his.

“You deserve love, Ghost,” She says softly like how one would approach a stray dog they're trying to gain the trust of. It makes his mouth pool with warm saliva like he's about to be nauseous. She says it so assuredly he can’t even argue with it, or perhaps a part of him hopes it's true. “I don’t deserve you.” He responds though it doesn’t feel like he's the one who said it. “Bullshit,” The word is jarring, a quick retort that contrasts with her earlier soft tone. it is jarring enough his gaze snaps back to her without him realizing it fast enough to stop it. Suddenly he's aware of the heat of her seeping into his side, how she's been watching his eyes through the holes of his mask so intently this whole time. “I don’t want to be on some pedestal, even if what you said is true it does not and will not negate the fact that I already have these feelings for you, Ghost. You feel something too so if you don’t feel good enough become who you think I deserve. You don't have to be a saint, Ghost, I wouldn't have fallen for you if I wanted that. We will take baby steps, give yourself the chance to be vulnerable enough to prove yourself wrong.” Suddenly at her words, it's like he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

He doesn’t know, he simply doesn’t even know how to begin to process her words. But they gnaw on his heart until he feels his chest pushing out every last drop of air like he has to reset his body. And in that moment he wonders if maybe he can begin to understand right. No, not in the same way he viewed it as before. He realizes he wants to learn her world, he doesn't need to become it, but maybe he can reside in it and she can reside in his. He can feel the doubts trying to sink their teeth in the back of his brain but all he can think about is fuck maybe he does actually kind of like when she looks up at him like that. “Baby steps,” he repeats, voice soft, more like a whisper than full commitment. He doesn’t know if this is right or if it will work out, but he wants to try. His hand finds the back of her head, and he lets the softness of her hair tickle his skin instead as his lips find her forehead through the material of his mask. He didn’t know why exactly he did the affectionate gesture, but it felt right in the moment, and the way she sighed with relief like he lifted some weight from her shoulders was a sound he could get used to.