ghostskiss2-0

[ghostskiss2-0]

I just done playing cod mw3 and Soap death killed me from the inside, just want to console my mind, I want to see Simon with Soap'ssister!Y/N as lover having each other after the trauma please??? i love your writing and i believe you can ease my heart <3

hey bby! sorry for the late reply, i hope this eases you after some time <3

———

Pain

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Lil Sis Y/N

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ANGST, Trauma bonding, Character Death, Mentions of depression, Grief, Sadness, Blood/Injury TW, Bathing in a tub, Soft!Dom Simon, Massaging/hands all over F! body, Clitplay, crygasm, tbh kind of DDLG-esque ((to me at least)). No DDLG wording used though Tried not to spoil too much on Soap's death for other readers!

note: please take care of yourselves loves. if you relate to Y/N in this, i am so very sorry and it does get better. be patient and kind with yourselves and reach out. people need you as much as you need them and that is a strength. not a weakness.

———

Pain.

Pain is what you've been feeling. Disaster, chaos, sadness. But pain was King in your heart. The deciding factor for many things in your life since your big brother has...

You grip your chest and double over in the kitchen, dropping your coffee mug in the sink. Sucking in a breath, you allow the grief to wash over you in the deadening wave that it is. That's what you've learned over these past couple of months. They come and go in waves, this thing called Grief. It hurts every time. Sometimes at night you wonder if they'll ever go away. If it'll always feel like you're drowning without him here. Your big brother. Johnny.

Even though you're clenching your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel through this pain, you haven't cried lately. It's like you've cried so much the first couple of months that your tear ducts have stopped working. A few more moments pass and you stand up straighter, looking at the broken mug in the sink. You feel nothing now, like you hadn't been in agonizing pain just seconds ago. Enough to have made you drop and break one of your favorite mugs. Awhile ago that would've made you cry. You used to be so raw with emotion after the passing of Johnny. Now nothing seems to get you to except the random waves of grief.

Touching a shard in the sink with mild disinterest, you think about all things you used to do. Things that made you feel something. Anything but this never-ending pressure and weight on your shoulders, like you're carrying it around like a support blanket. Your finger slips on the shard, the ceramic cutting into your pointer finger, blood welling to the surface quickly. Another glance of mild disinterest as you bring your hand up to study the open the wound. It hadn't even hurt. How...odd. The warmth of the red liquid trails down your hand to your wrist, as it slowly leaks from your finger.

The doorbell rings, pulling you out of your morbid trance and you blink, almost in shock from the sound. Some days it feels like you're holed up in world different from others entirely, that no one can get you here. The doorbell rings again and this time your feet seem to be unglued finally. Ripping off a paper towel, you press it to your finger and yell out weakly,

"Coming."

Your voice cracks painfully and you wince. When was the last time you'd spoken out loud? The grip you have on your finger tightens as you glance around your home. Christ, when was the last time you'd cleaned anything? Eaten? When was the last time -

Someone pounds on the front door. You zoned out again in the middle of the front entry way. Trying to blink away your dazed state, you reach for the door, opening it. A breath catches in your throat, staring at the...

Ghost.

Ghost.

The man stares down at you in his own confused state, his dark eyes behind that mask he wears taking in inventory of every little thing. In the past you would've shrunk away from his searching gaze. In the past, you would've felt fear. You would've felt self conscious. You stare up at him and will yourself to feel something, anything.

You realize he'd been talking to you and you blink again, voice croaking, "Sorry? What?"

"Why the hell are you bleeding?" His head nods to your hands.

You glance down confused, had already forgotten what happened moments ago. The blood has seeped through your meager little paper towel and was making a fine mess down your arm again. Detached, you state, "Broke my mug."

Ghost is silent for a moment, watching you watch the blood trickle down even more. He's almost unnerved, seeing you in this state. How long have you been like this? His jaw clenches under his mask and he gently grabs your hand with injured finger, squeezing it to keep the blood from flowing as he redirects you back inside. The fact that you move in zombie-like trance pains him. Something he knows well. Seeing it in you...seeing it in Soap's baby sister. And knowing what you're feeling or you're lack of feeling makes his chest hurt.

In your dissociated and detached state, you move with him as he guides you through your own home from behind you. You don't feel entirely here on this plane of existence. But you know that you trust this man, that he's going to help you with your injured finger. That this was a man that your brother trusted with his life. His life.

That thought snaps you out of it and you inhale sharply, taking in your surroundings like you'd been asleep this whole time. Ghost has since sat you down at the kitchen table, glass of water next to you and some ibuprofen. The water runs in the kitchen sink and you can smell your lavender hand soap. Your head turns to the kitchen, catching Ghost's gaze as he dries his hands off. He stares at you and then nods to the items on the table. Turning back to it, you grab the glass and frown, seeing your already bandaged finger. You drink some water and down the pain killers with it as Ghost comes around and pulls a chair from the table to sit in front of you. He gently grabs your hands into his and holds them, leaning his elbows on his legs.

"How are you?" his voice is quiet, not exactly a whisper, but something above it. It's nice. It's calm. It's familiar, in a way. You think about the last time you'd seen him. When was it? Johnny's funeral. Johnny.

"Hey."

You look up from your joined hands, realizing yet again you'd went away somewhere. Ghost's eyes ping to yours, back and forth, like he's trying to read your mind. Like he's trying to figure out where you're going too. How to keep you here with him. How to keep you present. He leans closer, and you don't even flinch. Like you're in and out of your own consciousness, not aware of anything. His bare hands run up your arms softly and he notes the goosebumps raising as he tickles you. Good. At least you're somewhat aware of that. You blink again, coming back to him from the stimulation. You shiver slightly and Ghost hums, deciding that physical touch is going to work at least for now.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, peering up at him. Your eyes are wide, like he's waking you up out of a dream you'd been stuck in for awhile. This is going to hurt, he realizes. He gently squeezes your shoulders.

"To check in on you. Soap..." his voice dips, "Johnny told me to look after you. I...I'm sorry I haven't been here." He stops at that, not knowing what to say. He doesn't have an excuse. He can't say it was work. Can't say it was anything but his own selfishness, his own pain, his own anguish. He'd lost a brother too.

Something in his voice triggers it in you. Something that starts to slowly swell up inside, like a different kind of pressure. You feel more alert, sharper.

"You're sorry?"

Ghost nods and lets out a slow sigh, his fingers still loosely trailing on your skin. It's starting to irritate you slightly, as you feel his touch awaken your skin. "I don't have an excuse. I made a promise and I couldn't keep it. But I'm here now. I'm here. And if I had known...if I had known you were like this I wouldn't have been... I don't know. Scared. Scared to see you. I was -am- grieving too."

Scared to see you. The man who was the last person with Johnny. The man who had him more than you had him. The man who took your brother away from him. Scared of you. Grieving too. Like he had his brother killed. Killed. Taken away.

Anger. Anger is what this new feeling is. You almost revel in it, almost shuddered with excitement that you're finally, finally feeling something other than the pain. Your heart rate picks up and you almost feel delirious.

"If you hadn't known I was like this?"

Ghost catches the change in your tone and his gaze jerks back up to you in question. You can see his brows dip in confusion as he pulls his hands away from you.

"Honey, look around this place. You...you're not doing okay. I shouldn't have waited this long." He says gently, like you're not aware of how bad you are. Like you have no idea how much you've been in. Like you're not aware at all.

"I know I'm not doing okay, Simon." You spit out behind clenched teeth, "My brother got killed."

Ghost flinches at that, jerking back into his seat as he stares at the ground.

You feel like you conquered something. You feel in control suddenly, prideful that you hurt him with your words. You stand up abruptly, knocking your chair back and Ghost looks up at you with pain in his eyes. You feel high off of that fact. You aren't the only one in pain anymore. You don't have to feel it. You can inflict it.

"You weren't the one who lost your family." Another flinch from the man in front of you, "You weren't the one who had random men show up at your front door step and tell you your brother was killed. You weren't the one who had to go to the funeral and see people who knew him, but not the way that you knew him, people who didn't grow up with him, people who took him away from his real family, people who only worked with him not loved him-"

"I loved him."

Your next words catch in your throat as you gaze down at him in shock.

"What -"

"I said I loved him." Ghost stands up slowly, his hands up like he's approaching a wounded and feral animal. You back up in fear like one anyways. "I loved your brother. I loved Johnny. Johnny loved you. He loved you. He'd always talk about you. He'd show me the letters you'd write him when we'd be shipped out. He'd show me pictures of your family. He'd tell me anything he could about you. He loved you. I know you loved him. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm sorry I couldn't share the things I had with Johnny, but I'm here now and I'm ready. I'm ready to share anything you want to hear, I know we weren't close before this, but your brother was my best friend. He was a brother to me. I know that our pain of losing him is different, but we still lost someone dear to us. Your brother was dear to me. You alone for that are dear to me as well. I will not let you walk through this alone anymore, sweetheart."

Ghost slowly reaches up and brushes your cheeks and that's when you realize you're crying. A sob catches your throat as you throw yourself at the man in front of you, burying your face into his chest as you cry. His arms come around you, keeping you to him, holding you as your body shakes with emotions. It's not only pain now. Nor anger. There's love and relief. Because now someone does finally understand where your heart and head have been since your brother passed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Simon I didn't -" you start, staring up at him with tears blurring your vision. He shushes you and shakes his head, thumbing your tears away.

"Allow yourself to feel everything in this. No emotion is wrong. Anger is healthy." He rubs your back as you press your face in his chest again, breathing him in. It feels good, being hugged by a man such as him. After a few moments, Ghost untangles you slowly from him and jerks his head to the stairs. "Let's get you in a bath."

----------------------------

You stare down at the bubble bath lit with candles in a bit of anxiety. It looks warm and welcoming. Holding your finger up you stare at the gauze wrapped tightly around it. Strict orders under Lt Ghost was to not remove the bandage, even when you complained you'd had to leave your entire hand out of the bath then.

Startling you into a slight jump, Ghost's voice comes from behind the paper thin bathroom door, "You okay? I don't hear you in the bath."

You gnaw on your bottom lip, "Yeah, I'm uh...thinking."

"Thinking?"

You dip your toe in and shudder in delight. Yeah, that man might not look it, but he runs a good bubble bath. You lower yourself slowly, careful not to get your bandaged finger wet. Your body seems to groan with relief as you settle back into the water, head dipping back to lean on the edge of the tub. A few quiet seconds go by before Ghost is at the door again.

“You okay?”

You nod and then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah.” your voice sounds calm and at peace for once. You look around the dimly lit bathroom, candles on the counter lighting the room just enough. “I just wish I could wash my hair. Or anything really. I can’t get my hand wet.”

You think he’s gone by the lack of reply. Which is fine, you didn’t expect him to sit outside your bathroom door the entire time, even if he said he would. That’d be ridiculous to ask of him —

“I can do it. Wash your hair, I mean.” His voice is so soft from behind the door you think you made it up.

“I—”

He starts up again, this time a tad louder and rushed, like he’s trying to find the right words without offending you, “I won’t look. Obviously. There should be enough bubbles to uh… cover you. Not that I’d look even if there weren’t any. Just. Listen I’ll only help wash your hair. Don’t want you to get your bandage wet.” He pauses for a second. “If you want.”

You think it over while looking down at the bath. He’s right, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. You chew on your lip, thinking it over, probably for too long. Letting a slow sigh to calm your nerves, you nod and call him in. He comes in silently and you tense, feeling his presence fill the room. What are you doing? This is your brother’s…lieutenant. War buddy. Best friend. You’re letting him in the bathroom with you while you’re naked for Christ’s sake.

You turn to catch him rolling up his sleeves, bare hands grabbing the edge of the tub to help lower himself down to his knees. You feel yourself shrink back into the bubbles, glad for the low lighting so he can’t see you blushing. He’s staring at you softly, like he’s watching every tiny reaction you’re having to him. Studying you to see if you’re too uncomfortable. You don’t want him to leave so you sit up a little, moving closer to him. He nods a bit and reaches up to untangle your hair from the pile you placed on top of your head. He sweeps his fingers through your hair and your eyes close, allowing yourself to feel in the moment. Not think it. He grabs your bath cup and dips it in the water, letting the warmth cascade through your hair. Gently, he tips your head back so it doesn’t get in your eyes, his large hands are surprisingly soft as he finishes getting your hair wet enough for shampoo. His fingers massage your scalp with the suds and you groan, leaning into him more.

He chuckles, “You’re acting like a cat.”

“Do you like cats?” you ask, curious. Your eyes are closed and you hum as he rubs your head more.

“Hm. I’d like you if you were a cat.”

“You hardly know me. What if I were a bad cat?”

“No such thing.”

He dumps more water through your hair, rinsing you free of all your past worries and fears. You feel your body relax more and you sigh, sad that this is going to end soon. Your eyes peer open at him and you shiver, now thinking of how you have a man, this large mysterious man bathing you. You’ve known of him, met him a couple of times when Johnny would come home and bring him along. But he never talked much, in fact, you were a little scared of him sometimes. Johnny always joked with him but you swear the man was mute around your family. Seeing him so…intimately under the lighting of your bathroom, his rough but gentle hands on you, washing you and touching you, had your heart clenching and your thighs pressing together under the water. Was that wrong of you? What would your brother think right now? In the beginning it was appropriate enough, but now with these thoughts running rampant, it didn’t feel like an innocent hair washing session. You were suddenly so aware of how naked you were. How the bubbles in the bath were dissipating like they do after some time.

Ghost looks at your bandaged finger, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him to inspect it. He makes a satisfied sound in seeing that you haven’t gotten it wet.

“Need me to wash you?”

Your throat dries as you stare at him, as he’s casually looking over your hand in his. You think of those very same hands on your body. His fingers caressing you, sudsing you up with your body wash. You’re about to tell him no, to be respectful to him. He’s probably innocently thinking he’s helping you and here you are getting worked up over him just washing your hair.

“I won’t…I won’t—”

“Do anything I don’t want you to?” You finish for him, not sure if that’s what he was even going to say. He nods anyways and catches your gaze to level it, like he’s telling you means it. Not only with his words but his eyes. You nod back and you stare at each other for a moment longer before he’s reaching for the wash. He pours some in the palm of his large hand and you swallow, turning your gaze away from him, the eye contact beginning to have been too much.

His hands connect with your shoulder softly and you close your eyes, tension leaving you quicker than you thought. He leans you forward a bit and gets your back, dipping under the water and coming back up. Your head lulls to the side as he comes back up and sweeps his hand across your collarbones, raising your arm to get your armpit and you giggle, though he seems to be taking his job seriously. He grunts at your reaction and turns your body a bit to get the other side of you.

You shudder, trying not to squirm under his tickling touch. His hands dip under the water to grab one of your legs and you squeal, catching the sides of the tub so you don't tip under. He laughs lightly, lathering up your calves and feet, your toes trying to wiggle out from underneath his grip. It's light and playful until you sit up, completely forgetting the setting that you're in. Ghost's hands drop from you and he sits back abruptly, making you frown and glance down at yourself. Bubbles from the bath are slowly falling from your breasts down your sides and stomach, your nipples tightening from the change in temperature. Ghost's wet hands grip the edge of the bath and you're both frozen, like you're both shocked at what you're witnessing. Heat fills your body and you turn towards him more, hearing the ever so slight hitch in his breath as your nipple grazes his knuckles.

Your uninjured hand grabs one of his and tugs gently, getting him to unglue his fingers from the tub. He watches you move your joined hands towards your chest and he utters your name out in a low warning. You pretend not to hear him as you guide his hand to cup a breast gently.

"You didn't wash me here." You whisper innocently, now looking up at him through your wet lashes. You feel Ghost's fingers spread before lightly gripping you in response. You shiver, pressing more into his touch.

Ghost lets out a noise in the back of his throat, like he's unsure on how to proceed. "We--"

You grab his other hand and do the same thing, the sudden action cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. His eyes drop to your breasts and he swipes a thumb across your nipple before testing the weight of you in his palms. You let out a small sigh, eyelids drooping from the feel of his warm hands on you. He plays with you like that, sweeping, feeling, testing, and washing your tits as you struggle to keep your head up from the pleasure. His fingers trail down to your sternum, even further to your belly button and you're nodding your head, like you're trying to encourage him to keep going.

"You want me to wash you there too, honey?"

You're nodding again, eyes half open while your press as much of yourself into his hands. Practically begging him without saying the words. Ghost hums and he pulls away entirely, standing up to chuck off his sweater that's gotten wet from the bath. Underneath he's got a plain black t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and you sit back, taking the large man in as he settles back down.

"Turn around. Lean your back here." He pulls your shoulders against the tub, his hands coming around you. You look down and watch his hands fondle your tits, fingers coming around to pinch your nipples lightly, just giving you enough pressure to gasp. His head settles in the crook of your shoulder, material of the mask brushing against your neck lightly, tickling you. He turns and whispers darkly in your ear while one hand trails down the front of your body, other gripping your chest.

"Let yourself feel. Stay with me."

Your eyes drift shut as his fingers go lower and lower until you're raising your hips to catch his finger tips into your sex. He chuckles airlessly, pressing into your aching clit. "Right here, baby?" You nod again frantically, whining out as he starts pressing slow circles. Your clit throbs as his fingers catch it, rolling it and playing with it as you gasp out. "Keep that bandage dry." The tone he delivers that in has an underlining connotation of a threat. An or else.

It makes your breath hitch and your head lull back, hitting his shoulder as he leans into you from behind the tub, his fingers playing slowly, exploring you. His other hand cups and plays with your breasts and he hums with curiosity when he finds the right spot, the right pressure. You don’t need to tell him, he can tell by the way you tense and then melt into him, almost like you’re fighting against the pleasure he’s giving you. His cock strains hard against his jeans and he curses himself about the morals and lines you two are crossing, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. In the throes of your pleasure as you cry out louder, your hands that were on the tub’s edge start to slip and the masked man tsks at you.

“Hands out of the water.”

You whimper and place them back on the edge, gripping and holding so you don’t entirely submerge yourself in the water containing you. Ghost picks up the pace of his fingers circling your clit and you moan out, hips bucking up. You’re close.

“Ghost,” you gasp, not sure what you’re about to say or beg or plead for.

“That’s it. Let go. Let go.” his voice is coaxing, like he’s gently leading you, not demanding you. Nurturing you, taking care of you. Your body responds like it was a command, toes curling, head falling backwards, breath catching and then crescendoing as your legs tense up, capturing Ghost’s ever moving hand to your pussy as you come. It’s breathtaking and blinding, and by the time you come back to reality, you’re gasping for air like you finished running.

Ghost lets you gather your bearings before he’s slowly untangling himself from you, rinsing the rest of your body off. He helps you stand on your wobbly legs, pulling you up and put of the tub with ease. A warm large towel comes around you and he dries you off thoroughly before wrapping it around your body and pulling you into him. He rests his cheek on top of your head, rubbing your back in the embrace. You can feel yourself crying, though you’re not sad. You blink away the tears as Ghost holds you.

“Let’s get you in bed sweetheart.”

He transitions you into your bed, and you reach out for him with watery eyes. He sighs a bit, but kicks off his boots and clambers into the bed after you, somehow just knowing this entire time what you need. The bandage, the bath, the feeling of something other than the pain in your heart. He pulls you into him, keeping you wrapped in the covers and he softly kisses your forehead through his mask. Your eyelids droop. Even though you’ll never get your brother back, and Ghost will never get his back, you’re here together. Going through it together. You were never really alone, even with how bad it hurt and how much you thought otherwise. It didn’t hurt right now, but it may in the future and that’s okay. You had time. You’re going to take it one step at a time.

“I’m right here baby. You’re okay.”

And you knew he was right.

[ghostskiss2-0]

Late Night

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader WC: 3.2k Summary: A drunk late-night conversation takes a bit of a turn Warnings: 18+, Alcohol consumption, Oral (afab receiving), Fingering, Drunk/Buzzed Reader and Ghost, Service!Ghost, kind of a hint to a hand kink in this ?

Taking a swig from your flask, your eyes lock onto Ghost’s from across you. The two of you’d been lazily drinking together, late after a mission. It went well. It was supposed to be a celebration, not…whatever this was. Your cheeks are hot and heated from the alcohol and the question your lieutenant just asked. You’re trying to avoid answering him, but his heavy gaze says he’s not letting it go. You feel dizzy and turned on, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache. The alcohol isn’t helping. Neither is his hard gaze, or the fact that his mask is pulled up. The edge of Ghost’s lips tip to a slow smirk. Like he knows. He knows.

Clearing your throat, you sit up a little further in the couch, trying not to squirm, but fail anyways. You pass the flask to him, his fingers brushing softly against yours. You pull back like it burned to feel him, your gaze sniping down to the hand gripping the bottle. You avert your eyes, feeling like you’ve been caught. His hands are bare, veiny, and large. They’re strong. You’ve felt them before, innocently of course. He’s placed one of those very hands on a shoulder, praising you after a job well done. You think about his hands on you. On your throat, between your –

“You’re really not going to answer me?”

You shiver. His voice has a husk to it, a gravel that makes you want to jump him. What the hell was in that booze? It feels hot in here, making you dab the back of your hand onto your forehead. Fuck, you’re nervous. Of course you’d be nervous, the topic you two had somehow landed on isn’t one that professional. Totally not professional. Not even a topic most friends get into. Wetting your lips, you watch your hands play with a pillow you’d put over your lap. You’re fidgety. Flighty.

“I… I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.” You deflect, ignoring the way your voice wobbles a bit at the end. You chance a look up Ghost, peeking at him through your lashes. His fingers are mindlessly trailing on the flask in his grip. Distracted at them, you stare, watching them. How’d they feel on your skin? Would he tease his own fingers on you like that?

“Mm. What’dya got to be embarrassed about? It’s not like it was your fault.” He shrugs, his voice jolting you out of your thoughts. You blush again, looking away from him.

“I don’t know.” You repeat yourself, brows furrowing, going back to the question he’d asked. Do you like being eaten out? You shudder, thinking back on the dark expression he gave you when you meekly shook your head. When you told him the last time you participated in it, the guy was so bad it turned you off of it forever. That you didn’t even want to bother with the act anymore, in case your partner was that bad again. Then he’d continued, barely blinking, keeping you captivated in his fiery gaze, What’s his name? When did this happen? Tell me more.

That’s when you stopped, that’s when you started thinking about him. Not the guy that’d ruined oral sex. No. Him. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. Sometimes your mind wandered. When he’d walk in front of you, letting you trail your eyes on the planes of his shoulders, his back, the way he walked. Or how his hands looked when he grabbed his gun, or worse, his knives. His jaw under his mask, or like right now, his lips showing you a teasing smile, or the muscle jumping in the jaw when you’d say something. Or when his dark eyes would catch yours.

You’re staring at him, you realize. And he’s staring right back, letting you drink your fill of him. You watch him bite back a smile when you come back from your Ghost dreamland. Sucking in a breath, you glance over your shoulder, to where the clock is hanging on the wall. It’s late. You’re sure everyone is asleep, just like you should be.

“Thinking of leaving to avoid me?”

Jumping, you turn back around, noticing he moved closer while your attention was elsewhere. Fuck. You shouldn’t have drunk that much. You’re not too drunk, but you’re definitely not sober. You watch with wide eyes as Ghost settles himself on the couch next to you. He gets comfortable, like it isn’t making your heart leap out of your chest, his arm coming up behind you, resting on the back of the couch. Blinking slowly, like you’re trying to sober yourself, you turn a bit toward him.

“It’s late.” You say, ignoring his question again, “And we’ve been drinking. I – I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

He tilts his head as he watches you, being quiet for a moment. The silence makes you realize how slick you feel. How heated your skin is. How you’re this close to tugging him on top of you and begging him to fuck you. You try not to shiver under his stare.

“No? You’re the one who started this conversation. What was that question you asked me earlier?” The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, the sight going to be burned into your brain for the rest of your life, you’re sure. “What was it?” His voice drops and he leans forward to you a bit, “‘What’s your favorite position?’”

You choke a bit, astonished that you’d even asked him that. You wave him away, brushing it off like you aren’t seconds from rushing to your room and taking care of this ache you have. He’s right, you’d started it. But it was because…well, you’re not sure. You think you wanted to make him feel as unsettled as he makes you. He’s so stoic and unfeeling, you wanted to catch him. You wanted to trip him up. Instead, he’s got you squirming. He’s got you flustered, almost panting.

“That was earlier,” you say, a bit breathless with proximity of his presence. “I’m tired now.”           

This, Ghost lets out a chuckle at. “Right. Well, I’m wide awake.” The hand on the back of the couch reaches up to brush lazily at your shoulder. His fingers pinch a lock of your hair and tug gently before he pushes your hair from your neck. You’re still. So still and hardly breathing. Like you’re worried any movement will make him stop.

“I think I could change your…aversion.” Ghost says so quietly, so darkly, that you barely hear him.

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to take your eyes off of his. Did you hear him right?

“My aversion?”

“Mm yeah. You know.” He shrugs like you’re not talking about…like he’s seriously not thinking about— “I’d make you come on my mouth. On my tongue. I bet you’d make a real mess too. I can make it good for you.”

Your lips part in surprise, eyes widening, shock spreading on your features. He almost laughs, biting his lower lip to stop himself from smiling at you. Your hands are fisting the pillow on your lap, a flush is traveling up your chest to your cheeks, pupils blown, legs pressing tightly together. You look good. He knows without a doubt he could make it good for you. Maybe even get you addicted to the feel of his mouth. He knows without a doubt he’d be addicted to the feel of you.

“R-right now?” You sputter, hands tightening on the pillow.

His fingers brush against your neck, making you shudder, eye lids drooping a bit with pleasure. Sensitive already.

“Unless you’re tired like you said.”

Shaking your head quickly, you start to say no, no you were lying of course, but Ghost is already standing up from the couch. He gently grabs the pillow from your death grip, settling it behind your back. His gaze is heated as he stares down at you. “Lift up your hips.”

You lift your hips, his hands scooping under you to pull your pants off. You squeak in surprise a bit, earning an amused noise from the man above you. He leaves your panties on, enjoying the way you immediately close your legs to hide the sight from him. He doesn’t mention it until he’s on his knees, tugging your body to the edge of couch. He grips your thighs, making him groan with the feel of you finally in his hands. His hands press up the back of your thighs, making them press into your chest. Your breath hitches, as you realize how exposed to him you are, underwear molding to your wet cunt.

“Hands here.” He grabs your hands and places them on the back of your knees, keeping your legs in the position he put them in. “Keep them there.” He looks up at you, confirming you heard him. You nod, biting your lip to keep yourself from protesting. You hold your legs to your chest the way he wants. Your hips jolt up at the feel of his thumb running up your clothed slit.

“Easy. Ya sensitive, love?” Ghost drawls out as his thumb swipes down, notching against your soaked entrance. A whine catches in the back of your throat as you nod up at him.

He likes you like this. You’re always put together, not letting anything ever get to you. He’s not sure if the alcohol has gotten to you like it’s gotten to him, but he likes it. Your cheeks have a flush, you’re almost shivering under his stare, chest raising in a shaky breath, lips parting in a slight pant. Fuck. You look so good. He’s lucky. He’s so lucky that you’re letting him do this, and he almost wants to thank you. His jaw ticks as he sets it, his heart rate picking up. Not only has he got you like this; he’s got you wet. When did that happen? When the two of you were talking about how he liked to fuck? He’s lucky you couldn’t tell how badly he wanted to take his hard aching dick out and make you suck on it on front of him when you asked him that question. Lucky you couldn’t tell how eager he was to talk about the topic –the positions— he’s wanted you in. Fantasized about you being in. He wets his lips, watching your reactions as his thumb presses a bit harder, running up to press against your clothed clit.

“Y’gotta tell me if I’m too rough, or if you want me to stop.” Ghost’s words come out a bit rushed, like he’s trying to warn you. His chin dips to catch your distracted daze, his thumb stopping the teasing movement that’s got you in a different place. You blink, looking up at him and nod again. He shakes his head with a tsk, “Tell me.”

“’Kay.” You breathe out, hips tilting up, trying to get him to move his thumb again.

A groan slips from him. You’re grinding on him. You’re that desperate. He curses the dumbass that didn’t take care of you, but he’s also thanking him. Thanking him for this moment, for ruining something that he’s going to make so good for you. He dips his mouth to your thighs, running kisses down them. His thumb still teasing your soaked cunt, running up and down in a leisured pace. You’re already trembling, he doubts he has to keep you on edge for long, but he wants this to last. He doesn’t know how many hours are left until sunrise, until this little piece of heaven you’re giving him will be over with.

Your fingers clench around the hold you have on the back of your knees. The light scruff of Ghost’s face pairs well with his hot mouth. A whimper slips from you, your head tipping back a bit at the feel of it. He’s driving you insane, his thumb pressing against you, teasing your clit just enough to make you whine. His mouth trails a flaming path to your soaked pussy. Your head snaps down to watch. His eyes are already on yours as his mouth falls open, his tongue coming out to lick flatly up against your sex. He makes a punched-out noise as he tastes you, your hands leaving the hold of your legs, grabbing onto sides of his masked head. Your breath has hitched into high whine. His hands come up to keep your legs open the way he wants them, pinning you down to the couch. Suddenly, he’s sucking the fabric of your panties, sucking the wetness that’s saturated the fabric.

You taste good. Ghost’s jaw aches like he’s sucking on something sweet, drinking down the slick that your underwear has collected for him. He struggles to keep his eyes open, half-lidded, as he watches you. Yeah. You looked as fucked out as he feels, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his jeans. He has half the mind to reach down and fuck his hand as he gives you pleasure. The thought makes him groan against your sex, and fuck, you liked that. He needs to taste you correctly. He reluctantly pulls back from you, fingers rushing to your hips to rid you of the barrier from his mouth. He lets the soaked piece of clothing fall to the floor as he comes back to sit on his heels, taking in the sight of you. You blush at his attention, legs about to try and close again. He shakes his head with a soft sound.

“Show me. Show me how wet you are for me.” His hand comes to the front of his pants, squeezing his cock that’s bulging. He groans at the contact, watching with a dark look on his face as you spread your pussy between your fingers. Fuck.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out a breathless laugh like he can’t believe it, “you’re soaked.”

He’s right. Now that there’s no fabric to catch your wetness, it’s leaking down your entrance to the couch beneath you. He sucks a breath in through his clenched teeth. This entire night is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. The taste of you is going to be something he won’t be able to get enough of.

He moves forward, dropping down to be level to your sopping aching cunt. He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t tease. He collects saliva to the front of his mouth and spits slowly onto your clit. The motion makes you moan lowly as you try to stay still for him. You feel like your body is on fire, the anticipation as you feel cool wetness of his spit gather with your own wetness, the way his hands tense against the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you right where he wants you – everything is consuming you in ways you didn’t think was possible. It’s never felt like this. Never felt this good. You’re trembling when Ghost closes the distance, his tongue licking a long stripe from your clenching core to your clit. You let out a pained noise, not that it hurt, but because it felt so good. You’re not sure you’re all the way here in this moment, his tongue taking you to a place you’ve never been before.

Ghost is in his own mind similar to the way you are. The pleasure is mind numbing, just having you under him. Having your soaked pussy spread open for him, his tongue licking, teasing, moving up and down, side to side, anything that’ll get you to squirm and choke on air. He’s attentive, he’s making sure anything he’s doing to you is giving him a noise that makes his cock twitch with need. The way he’s eating you is sloppy, he’s getting his face wet with you, licking and sucking, humming even. His tongue dips into your hole, fucking into you before coming back out to lap up at your clit. He’s not gentle. Doesn’t want to be. He wants to see your tits bounce with the way he’s devouring you. Even under your shirt. His tongue rasps over your swollen clit and you gasp, back bowing for him. He huffs a breathless laugh against your sex and delivers a hum through you, letting it vibrate against your aching flesh.

“Si—” You choke out.

The broken moan on his name makes him feel insane. He wants to hear it again. Needs to hear it again. He’s drooling for it, his lids barely open as he watches you cry out for him again. He feels your cunt clench and he groans, latching his mouth around your clit to suck. Sucks hard with his tongue coming out to flick the needy little bud. You’re bucking now, like you’re not sure if you’re trying to get away from the pressure, heart rate skyrocketing. You hear yourself chant and moan pleasepleasepleaseplease. But you’re not entirely in your body, you’re hovering above awareness, mind in a haze.

That’s how you cum. And you cum hard. You’re vaguely aware of Ghost moaning against your sex as you gush on his tongue as he laps it up. You’re not aware of the way you shriek, the way your nails dig into Ghost’s neck, scratching and holding him there as your hips falter.

Ghost’s been watching you this whole time. He’s not missing it for anything. He doesn’t care how badly he wants to pull his throbbing cock out and cum with you. He cares about how your moans sound, what you look like when you cum. How you taste. The way you blink down at him, eyes watery, mind not completely there. The sharp breaths you’re taking. Your fucking nails burning and dragging into his skin. Yeah. Mark him up. He eases his sucking on your clit, making sure he doesn’t overstimulate you and works on cleaning you up. He’s drinking down your sweetness, swearing that there’s no way you could pull him away from this pussy. From worshipping you. He wants to make you cum again. He needs it.

“Simon,” you breath out. The way you say his name makes him tremble with need. It’s soft, it’s trusting. It’s just for him. His eyes drift closed like he’s in heaven. “Si,” you start again, trying to get his attention. Your hands wander from their grip on his neck to his jaw. Finally, he looks back up at you, but keeps languorously licking your fluttering entrance. You have his attention but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop.

“Can you make me come again?” You ask, simpering little thing.

Ghost groans his approval of your question against you, fingers coming up to get them wet with you. He pulls a bit back, still hovering close over your pussy so you can feel the air of his words against your clit as his fingers dip into you.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He smiles darkly as you cry out when his thick fingers get knuckle deep. “Take your shirt off this time.”

[ghostskiss2-0]

[ghostskiss2-0]

Hate

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader WC: so many omg (9.2k) Summary: On a pranking war, you end up taking something from Ghost to get back at him. He’s bound to get back at you. Warnings: 18+ Enemies to lovers, Voyeurism, Stalking (? Kinda.), Teasing, PIV, Oral (AFAB receiving), Dub-con elements (I think? Just tagging that in case. Reader wants him but isn’t letting him know it), Spit, Biting, A bit of blood, Hate Sex, Edging, Overstimulation, Creampie, Condescending!Simon, He’s kinda mean in this Sorry (heheh)

Irritation is settling into your bones. Maybe even your hair follicles. The pores in your skin. Your entire soul. The point is, you’re irritated. Pretty soon, you’re going to be pissed.

Stomping through the building to the mess hall, you fume. You’re thinking of all the ways you can get back at him. This has been going on for weeks. Months, actually. You’re ready to throw your towel in. Wave around a white flag. You don’t care how smug the bastard is going to be. You don’t care if he gives you that knowing smirk under his mask, unable to see it, but still somehow knowing he’s laughing at you anyways. Hands clenching at your sides, you swing the door open. Soap flinches, seated at the table, his eyes shooting to you. Surprise plasters on his face.

“Uh-oh. Incoming.” Soap starts, his gaze going from your storming form to his friend, Ghost. The pair are enjoying their dinner it seems.

“Riley.” You grind out, coming to a hot stop behind him. Weirdly, he had his back to the door.

He doesn’t even bother to turn.

“Yes, dear?”

Soap tries to hold a laugh back, coughing. “Shit, what’d you two get into now?”

It’s not unknown to the rest of the 141. The thing you and Ghost have, the going back and forth, the endless pranks on each other. It started as an accident, your accident. Sometimes at night when you’re lying in your bed, you stare at the ceiling, wondering what would have become of the two of you if you hadn’t done what you had. It was an accident; you even apologized to him! Multiple times. He still would not let it go. He got back at you. And then you got back at him for thinking he could get back at you. The cycle continued. Still does, to this day. All because you’d accidentally -accidentally- switched out his shampoo for yours. Something so stupid and trivial snow balled into…into this!

Your hand opens over the table, the item falling to the middle of it. You should’ve dropped it into his food. Soap looks down, shock spreading across his face before he sputters with laughter. It makes you angrier. It’d be fine if Soap was laughing at something you did to Ghost, but when it’s turned around, it makes you want to kill the both of them.

A small black plastic spider sits in the center of the table. It looks ridiculous now, under the lights of the mess hall, but it was scarier in your dark room, sitting right on top of your pillow.

Ghost lets out an unimpressed snort, “The hell is that?”

“What do you mean, ‘the hell is that?’ It didn’t crawl into my bed by itself, Ghost!” You shrill out, ready to punch him in the head, really. You never should have told anyone about your fear of spiders. It’d been another accident; this time alcohol had loosened your lips. You never thought it’d be used against you like this.

Soap slaps a hand to his mouth, trying to contain his glee. It looks like he kicks Ghost under the table. “You put that in the lass’s bed? You’re cruel, Lt.”

The man gives a noncommittal shrug and finally looks at you from over his shoulder. His mask is pulled up enough to eat. It’s normal for him to be comfortable enough to expose that much of his face in front of Soap, but the rest of the team? Forget it. He seems to notice his mistake, pulling his mask back into place. You don’t miss the curve of his smile before he does. It sends a shock down your spine, and you feel yourself falter a bit before fixing your scowl.

“You scared of a little toy? Explain to me how you’re on the team, again?” He stands, apparently done with his dinner. You have to move back to give him space, and of course, he doesn’t ask you to move. You do it anyways, pissed that he knows you’ll move to accommodate him.

You cross your arms over your chest as he pushes past you, tossing his food in the bin. He leaves the mess hall like you’re not throwing daggers at his back. Huffing, you turn back to Soap, who’s playing with the tiny plastic legs on the toy spider. Pointing the toy at you, he chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

Sighing, you sit down, anger almost disappearing now that the idiot who caused it is gone. You snatch a bread roll off Soap’s plate, sinking your teeth down into it.

“Gotta give it to him. Where the hell do you think he found this?” He flicks the toy to the table, not bothered that you’re eating his bread.

You shrug and swallow the piece before answering, “Who knows.” Your gaze is fixed to the toy, and then a thrill runs through you. A smile crawls to your lips as you fixate on it.

“Christ, lass, you look absolutely evil.”

Standing abruptly, you push yourself away from the table. Soap calls out to you, and you ignore him. You’re on a mission now. Your feet take you through the building to the sleeping quarters. You mentally check the time. Ghost was just eating dinner. Next, he’ll be in the showers. Without fail, you can count on the routine your lieutenant keeps. It’s not like you’re paying that much attention. Everyone knows, so that they can steer clear of him. The time he eats dinner, the time he heads to the showers, the time he cleans his guns in the weaponry room. He’s very vocal on the times he needs to be left alone. Soon, he’ll be bedded down for the night. You need to utilize the time that he’s in the showers.

You’re standing outside his quarters, staring down the closed door. A nervous chill hits you. It feels violating, this plan that you’re scheming. To even be going into his quarters. Anger comes to you now. He crossed that line with you, remember? He went into your room, somewhere in between the time you’d got back from your operation with Gaz and the time it took you to get ready for bed. You’re just playing the game he started, as always. Steeling your nerves, you push the door open. Of course, it wasn’t locked. The audacity someone had to have to sneak into Ghost’s room. He’s cocky enough to think no one would.

As the door creeps open, you slip in the dark room, shutting the door as carefully as you’d open it. The dark’s adjusting to your eyes as you lean up against the door. Taking a deep breath, you regret it instantly. It smells so much like him. You step forwards into the room, captivated. You can see a bit, but you don’t want to risk turning on the light. Pulling your phone out, you activate the flashlight on. It luminates the room as much as it can, and you suck in another breath. There’s nothing personal in here. It looks barely lived in. You at least have some things in your room, books, pictures. The only reason you know it’s his room is the singular knife on his desk. That’s what you’ve come for. Not wanting to test your luck, you shoot your hand out and grab it, leaving his room.

You’re pacing quickly down the hall, passing the corridor that leads to the showers. Your walk slows to a crawl as you listen intently, ears straining to pick up anything they can. The showers are still running, good. It gives you a bit of relief, and you continue on your mission. Hiding the knife in your room is not going to work, that’d be the first place he’d look. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you look down at the object in your hand. It’s a simple pocketknife, small and black. You have no idea why he’s so fond of it. In meetings, it’s the thing he toys with, flicking it back and forth in his gloved hands, opening and closing, running a gloved finger on the edge it. It irritates you because it’s distracting, always. Price never calls him out on it either, letting him fidget with it like he’s a kid that can’t sit still. Your thumb catches on the hidden blade, popping open with a satisfying click. There’s an old engravement on the blade and you squint, trying to read it. No use. It’s obvious the blade has been used and worn over with how ever long he’s had it, years you’re guessing.

Shutting it, you ignore the wiggle of uncertainty in the back of your mind. Of course, it means something to him. That’s why you’re taking it. It’s a line the two of you have yet to cross, but you’re still pissed about the toy spider. If he’d heard the shrill of fear you’d let out, you would be more eager to do this. It was humiliating, how scared you were, only to realize the thing hadn’t moved an inch as you clutched your hand to your heart, pressed up against the door like it’d jump and attack you. The courage it took to step near it, to touch it with a pen you’d grabbed from your desk.

The memory makes you grit your teeth. You hate him. It was one thing to prank each other, it was another to come into your room and deliver your worst fear, plastic toy or not. Your hand clenches around the knife handle and you close it with determination. Fuck him. You head to the locker rooms. You have a locker, just as everyone else. You hardly use it, however, as you have too much trust in your team to ever put anything in there. Thinking back to the combination of the lock, you put it in wrong several times before getting right. Opening the empty locker, you place the knife down and shut it, spinning the lock, and checking to see if it’s locked. A tension filled sigh leaves you. For now. The tension will be back tomorrow, when he finds out his knife has gone missing, you’re sure. You’ll need to practice your poker face.

Heading back to your room, you settle down for the night. Of course, you check for any strategically placed toy spiders. When you find none, you climb slowly into bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was in here. He placed the toy on your bed. You wonder what he thought of your small space, your things. If his hand trailed on your covers before he left.

***

“No. There isn’t enough time, you’ll go out to this building,” the eraser of the pencil in your hand presses against a point on the map, “and you’ll move to the roof. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Lass—” Soap starts, and you cut him off with a mere hard look.

The two of you have been here in the mess hall for too long, arguing with half eaten bagels and coffee that’s getting cold. Going back and forth isn’t something you really do with Soap, it’s Ghost. But he’s got something up his ass about this op. The extraction is supposed to happen at a different point, he’s supposed to take the package and head to the roof of a building in the opposite direction going in. He doesn’t agree with splitting up in enemy territory, neither do you, but it’s how it has to go down. Only the two of you are assigned to this job.

“Don’t start, seriously.”

“Why don’t we get more people on this?”

“You know why, Soap. Everyone has a job to do, this is ours. I’m not about to ask Price to stretch his crew thin when it already is.”

“I know exactly who to ask. I bet if I tell Lt, he’ll do it, no questions asked.”

You roll your eyes and huff, settling back into your chair. It’s been two days since you’d stolen his knife, and he’s still livid. No one knows exactly why, he wouldn’t say what’d happened, but you knew the moment he walked into the meeting two days ago. You knew he knew that you knew why he was uptight. Not that you told him. You denied knowing anything on why he’s in a piss poor mood, even when your mates pulled you aside to ask what you did. You could’ve boasted, told everyone you finally got a one-up on him. But you liked knowing that you got so deep under his skin that he wouldn’t even ask anyone where his knife went. Wouldn’t even confront you. That should scare you, you know, but you’re high on the achievement.

Soap scrunches his nose, “Well, maybe not. You’re on his shitlist, y’know.”

“Whatever. I’m on his, he’s on mine. That doesn’t matter because he’s busy. Everyone is busy, just do your job.” You take a sip of your cold coffee, pulling a face from the temperature.

“No, I mean, you’re really on his shitlist now. He told me his knife is missing. And I saw that devious smile on your face before it disappeared. Do you even know about that thing? He’s had it since he was kid.”

You shrug, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You push away from the table, grabbing your paperwork and mug full of forgotten coffee. Making your way to the kitchen, you dump the remains of your mug into the sink, rinsing it out and washing it thoroughly. The door behind you kicks up, and you sigh.

“Seriously, if you’re going to start up again, let me remind you—” you start, turning towards who you presume is Soap.

The words die in your throat, your mouth a little open in shock. Luckily, your paperwork is on the counter, you would have dropped it otherwise. Ghost stands before you, head tilting in mock question.

“Remind me what?” His gruff voice comes out.

The air is tense, heavy with danger. You’ve been on Ghost’s bad side before. Or so you thought. Nothing can compare to what you’re feeling now, locked the kitchen with the presence of a man who is pissed. You successfully avoided him for two days, until now. Your throat dries and you swallow, the movement caught by him, his eyes dipping to your throat. He takes a daunting step forward, causing you to take one back, pressing into the sink behind you. Shit. Is this how his true enemies feel? A bead of sweat drips down your spine, your heart beating quickly under your breastbone. Dark eyes of his are latched onto yours as he moves closer, caging you in. He isn’t touching you, but you can feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Angry heat. You start to feel panicky. This isn’t the first time he’s cornered you, or tried to use his presence to make you feel uneasy. You used to pride yourself on how well you could handle the pressure from him, that you were never scared of him. This is…different. This has weight, it has fear.

“Where is it?”

His voice hits you like whiplash, your gaze shooting up to his. He simply whispered the question, anger nowhere to be heard in his tone. It makes you feel queasy. Your eyes are searching him, trying to figure out what has got him so calm, if it’s a trick. His posture says anything but. Ghost has never been able to hide anger from his tone, so how is he doing it now? He’s just watching you as you scramble for an answer, patient when he should be anything but.

“Where is what?” You counter, tone steady. You’re clinging onto the training you have to mask your nerves. Maybe he’s doing the same.

Ghost leans forward, face coming close to yours. Christ. You felt panic before, now it’s true fear. His hand comes up and you tense, ready for him to grab you, lash out at you, something. He’s moving slow, like he enjoys seeing the fear rush through you, as you press painfully into the edge of the sink behind you. He likes seeing you squirm as you try to guess what he’s doing, why he’s doing it. His hand reaches up behind you, his body pressed close to yours, eyes never leaving your face. The hand shuts the sink off behind you, the water that’d been running stops with a trickle. He steps back, like the proximity never happened.

“Well, I guess you don’t know. G’luck on your op tonight.” Ghost says, almost cheerfully, turning away and leaving the kitchen.

You blink.

Even without his presence, your heart rate doesn’t understand the danger is gone. A breath shakily leaves you as you slump against the counter. God, he was so close. He’s never been that close to you before. He’s tried to intimidate you before, sure. Chewing on your bottom lip, you think about the knife in the locker. Should you put it back? Could you sneak it back into his room without getting caught? It feels too serious, it feels like you really crossed a line here. Fuck. Then he’d know it was you, probably already does, who else would steal his things? He more than likely has already hatched a plan to get you back. There’s no point in giving it back now.

Good luck on your op tonight.

“Shit.” You mutter, his voice ringing through your mind. He’s never said that before. Praises and encouragement aren’t just given to you by him. It hardens your resolve. Grabbing your paperwork you leave the kitchen, straight to Price’s office.

Lifting a hand, you knock on the closed door in front of you. Your captain’s voice calls an affirmative to come in. You walk into the dimly lit office. Price is sitting at his desk, lazily reading some paperwork.     

“Go on.” He says. Christ, what are you doing here? This is cowardice. This is the lowest Ghost has ever made you go.

“I need more time on the op Soap and I are on. We need more people. It’s insanity to have just the two of us. Soap agrees.” This isn’t a lie. None of it’s a lie, why does it feel like you’re lying to your Captain?

Price’s gaze leaves the paperwork, and he apprehends you silently. He looks surprised, leaning back into his desk chair. “You’ve never asked this before. Must be serious.”

You nod silently. What he doesn’t know is the suspicion you have about Ghost sabotaging the operation. To get back at you. It’s something you hope he hasn’t done, but why would he say that to you? Good luck.

Price lets out a sigh, “This is going to push us back. But fine. If you and Soap think it’s right. I pride myself on listening to my team. Safety first. Keep the paperwork, I’ll work it out. Tomorrow then.”

His tone is dismissive, so you salute before you turn and leave. Fuck, fuck. What is wrong with you? You’re marching down the halls to your room, ready to just mindlessly lay in bed. You have to give Ghost back his knife. This is dangerous, it has the taste of blood in your mouth. He wouldn’t really sabotage your op, right? Right? Whatever the case, you stopped the operation for a night, at least.

Flinging the paperwork haphazardly onto your desk, you sigh out, taking off your attire. If you aren’t doing the op tonight, you’re going to hole yourself in your room and think about what to do. Maybe you’ll give Ghost his knife back tonight, and finally, once and for all call a truce. It’s gone on long enough, hasn’t it? You hate to be the one to give in first, but this is serious. It was only a matter of time until it got out of hand, until one of you decided to mess with the other deeply. You always kind of thought Ghost would be the one to cross the line first, but it seems like you have. Exhaustion falls around you, seeping into your bones. You shrug your pants off and get into something comfier, a large t-shirt you like to sleep in. A nap is calling your name. You’ll deal with consequences of whatever later.

***

It’s dark when you startle awake in your bed. You’re groggy, the blankets around you are twisted at the end of your feet, like you kicked them off during your sleep. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your bare abdomen and underwear. A groan rushes out of you when you pop yourself up to your elbows, blinking slowly. The nap had hit you hard, you feel out of sorts. Your senses are coming back to your body at a snail pace. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, flinging your legs over the edge of the bed and you fix your shirt back down. Damn, that was…that was a good nap.

Something barely moves in the corner of your eye. You freeze. It came from the small chair in the hidden corner of your room, the one you move to your desk when you need it. When you don’t, it’s where you pile your laundry before you can get around to fold it. Was that good nap making you hallucinate? Are you still dreaming? You swear it’s just your pile of clothes.

Doesn’t matter. You’re scared. You keep frozen in time like you hadn’t seen the movement, left hand inching under your pillow to find your pocketknife. It was hidden there for times like these, times when you felt nervous in your own room. Your hand brushes against nothing, the movement in the corner of your eye starting again. Heartrate spiking, you drop pretenses and brush your hand under your pillow wildly. The pile of clothes at the chair is starting to look like a body. A man.

“Looking for something?”

Shock hits you so hard you flinch, like it was a physical hit. Fuck.

“Eye for an eye, right? Isn’t that how this whole thing started?” Ghost’s low voice crawls over your body. Goosebumps run across your skin.

“Ghost, what the fuck. You scared me.” You breathe out, a bit relieved it was just him. The turning feelings from fear to relief to anger rushes over your mind. Jumping up from the bed, you face him, able to barely see him in the dark of your room.

“What the fuck!” You whisper-shout at him, “What are you doing in here?”

Not the right thing to say, you guess. He stands to his full height, yet again moving you with the mere presence of himself. He’s daunting, towering over you in the dark. You can just see the outline of him, his stature. He looks bigger in the dark like this, in the shadows. Anger is steeling your nerves.

“You were watching me sleep?” You’re still whispering, incredulous. “Wait until the team finds out what a fucking pervert you are!”

A dry chuckle comes from him, humorless. “You’ve no fucking idea.”

You don’t have the time to process what he just said, as he suddenly shoots a hand forward, gripping your jaw. Your hands cling to his forearm, clawing at him. His hands are bare and so are his arms. Shit. This shouldn’t be making you feel hot. Were you still dreaming? He’s pressing into you, making you stumble backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed. He shoves you not too kindly at all. You can see him a bit better now that he’s closer, your eyes now adjusted to the dim light. A scowl moves on your face as you lay back on your hands to glare up at him.

“What. Are you. Doing.” You hiss out at him, pissed. He thinks he can come into your room and just bully you like this? Man handle you as he pleases?

Ghost tosses your pocketknife onto your bed. You get the memo.

“Fucker. I’m going to give it back to you, okay? You didn’t have to go this far. Sabotage my op or creep into my room and piss me off to high hell. Christ, even I wouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, but you did. You creeped into my room.” Is his response. Oh, so he did sabotage your op. He didn’t deny or confirm it. No answer is an answer. Hot anger flares inside you.

You scramble up your bed, going to your knees to get somewhat more of a height than laying down. “Motherfucker, you did that first! You placed that spider on my bed! A spider, Riley!” You jab a finger into his chest, feeling the hot and hard muscle there.

“Yeah? And who started this whole thing, huh?” He asks in his timbre of a voice, the sound doing something devious to you right now. He snatches your hand that was jabbing him, gripping it with his own. You gasp lowly at the feel of his skin on yours. What the hell? You’re supposed to be mad at him. Focus.

“I told you it was an accident! How many times do I have to say, huh? When are you ever going to get it through your thick fucking skull that I didn’t mean to switch my shampoo for yours? It’s not like it made you bald!” You don’t know that - you’re sure it didn’t, but you have no idea what his hair even looks like under his mask.

“You have no idea what it made me.” Ghost growls out lowly, jerking you a bit closer to him with the hand he’s captured. Your free hand hits his shoulder in attempt to get him to let go.

“Tell me then. Tell me what was so bad about using my shampoo one time that you just had to go out of your way to make my life miserable. Tell me.”

The two of you are practically panting. You’re vibrating with anger and…need. The tension between you is crackling, the energy in the room is suffocating. You’re too close to him, dangerously thinking about things you shouldn’t be. Especially about him. Your hand is still caught in his, your other clutching his shirt over his shoulder. When did you do that? You watch him tilt closer, dark eyes on yours.

“It made me hard.”

The reaction you give him isn’t something you expect. It sobers you. It pulls you out of whatever trance he has you in. This isn’t…fuck, this isn’t how you’re supposed to feel towards him. His words shouldn’t affect you like this. It shouldn’t make your core clench, it shouldn’t make you feel slick between your thighs, it shouldn’t make you so aware of how easy it would be right now to lift up his mask and kiss him. It makes you struggle in his hold, trying to get away from him. This can’t happen. You’re supposed to hate him.

Ghost grabs your other hand, keeping you still, gripping both of them in his own, against his chest. You’re squirming and he tugs you forward again to whisper in your ear, mask brushing against your sensitive and on fire skin.

“When I opened the shampoo bottle and, fuck. And smelled you? It made me so fucking hard I had to jerk myself off. It made me so mad that you did that to me. Made my cock ache and pulse. I wanted to find you and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

A whimper escapes you as you think about it, Ghost in the shower, naked and soaked with running water down his broad back. Cock in one hand, shampoo in the other. It’s perverted, it’s wrong, but God, it makes you hot. Your thighs clench together to relieve your ache. You try moving again but he isn’t letting you escape him. Not now.

“Wanna know something? I’m not even mad you stole my knife. I’m mad you went into my room. I could fucking smell that shampoo of yours even after you left. I can smell it now.” For emphasis he inhales deeply, a groan coming from deep in his chest that vibrates your hands that are pressed there.

“You’re crazy.” You hiss out lowly to him, tugging against his grip.

“Mm. Maybe. Wanna know something else?” He asks, his tone a bit teasing and he tips his head back a little to watch your reactions. It’s cute, watching you act like this isn’t getting you off.

“W-what?” You squeak, watching him as closely as he’s watching you.

“I’m hard right now. Have been since I snuck in here. Watching you squirm in your sleep, like you knew I was watching, begging me to touch you. You kicked off your covers right after I got in here. Like you were already getting hot for me.”

You shake your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. “No, I wasn’t. It was – it is hot in here.” Deny deny deny. That’s the only way you’ll get out of this. Maybe this is his payback, getting you hot and bothered only to leave you high and dry.

“Really?” His gaze dips down to the front of your shirt. “If it’s so hot, why are your nipples hard like you’re cold? You cold, baby? Or is it something else?”

He’s mocking you.

You grit your teeth in annoyance. “Fuck you. This is messed up, even for you. Is this you getting back at me? You win, okay. I’m done. Good job. Now get out.”

Ghost tilts his head, like he’s studying you in question. You hold his gaze in defiance, not letting him win the staring game at least. He breaks the hold he has on your hands but doesn’t move away from you. He tilts his chin downward as he looks at you through his lashes.

“I’m not joking. This isn’t me trying to get back at you. I’m telling you. I’m telling you that I’ve been obsessed with you ever since Price brought you in. That it makes me so angry and hot that a stupid little girl like you can debase me into this.”

A slap rings into the small space. The noise comes before you even register that you hit him, his masked face turned with the movement. A pained and pleasured noise comes from him before he looks back at you, something in his eyes ablaze.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too, baby.”

When he says that, nothing holds you back anymore, your hand shooting out to grip the hard length in his pants. He chokes like he wasn’t expecting that, his head dropping to watch you palm him through his jeans. You’re not gentle, and you think he likes that. Likes that you’re touching him with angry abandon.

“Fuck, you really are hard.” You breathe out in wonder, squeezing him and rubbing him roughly. His hips buck into your hand. Your clit throbs painfully and you catch a noise in your throat.

“Gonna let me touch you now?” He asks letting out another pained noise. You nod in response, not bothering to voice it out. His hands waste no time in grabbing the front of your shirt. He isn’t taking it off, just lifting it up to see what’s underneath. He lets out a low curse, balling up the material at your neck with one hand. His fingers swipe across a nipple gently before he’s palming the weight of your breast in his hand, fingers spreading to catch all of you before squeezing hard. It makes you gasp and in response you meanly squeeze his cock back. A chuckle leaves him and he eases the hold he has on you.

He rolls a nipple through his fingers, plucking and pulling. His movements pull a low moan out of you, and he seems pleased, continuing the action. Impatiently, he tugs your shirt up and over you, leaving you just in your panties. Your hands don’t leave from him, feeling it throb under your fingers when he sits back to stare at you. Once he’s got his fill of looking, his rough and calloused hands trail up your sides, petting you heavily in anyway he can. Your head tilts a bit as he feels you up.

“You like me manhandling you, huh? Dirty girl.”

You glare up at him, letting go of his length in response. He doesn’t care, tipping you to lay on your back. The bed beneath you dips to catch your weight. Ghost’s hands trail over your thighs, up and down, catching on the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down and you help him, glad he doesn’t comment on how your hips push up to help him slip them down. He’s taking you in again, looking up as long as he pleases, his hands trailing anywhere there’s skin. It’s overstimulating having his heavy hands paw at you. He’s hooking his hands under your knees, pushing your legs up and open, spreading you. A sharp breath intakes. Your slick is pooling, leaking, making you and the sheets messy.

“Ask me to eat you out.” He growls lowly, staring at your exposed cunt.

Your brow furrows, irritation coming to you in the fog of your arousal. “No.”

“No?” He counters, like he’s not surprised. He’s dropping to his knees, his hands still keeping your thighs spread. The angle from the bed and him on his knees is the perfect height, lining him up right to your spread cunt. He tugs his mask up, exposing the lower half of his face. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sight. Shit. He hovers over your pussy, attention unwavering. He spits on your aching clit. Shit. You might just ask.

“Look at you. You liked that. Don’t think I didn’t see that.” He spits on your sex again and you moan at the feeling of it. It shouldn’t be this hot to have him spit on you. His mouth opens, tongue dipping out, drool leaking from him onto your pussy.

“C’mon. C’mon. Ask. Look, I’m drooling for it baby. Don’t you want me to eat you out?” He laughs down at you, his breath and drool dripping onto your aching already sopping cunt. Your hips tilt up to try and catch his mouth. He keeps the distance between your clit and his mouth, tongue still spilling all over you.

Letting out a frustrated noise, you meekly ask, “Can you?”

“Can I what? Huh?” The tip of his tongue barely brushes against your clit and your hips flinch with the brief contact, grinding against nothing.

“Can you eat me out.” You grind out, hands ready to grab his head and shove him into your needy cunt.

He tsks, “What’s the magic word? Ask nicely.” He brushes against your clit again as he speaks. You let out a noise close to agony.

“Please, Riley. Please eat me out. Can you, please?” It’s desperate, the way you ask, your hands clenching the bed sheets beneath you. You don’t care how it sounds, how fucked out you sound, whiny and needy.

“Good girl.” He breathes out, tongue sliding into your slick from the bottom to the top. His tongue dips into your fluttering entrance up to your throbbing clit. He’s taking his time tasting you, making you grind against his face. “That’s it,” he groans against your cunt, the words vibrating through you, “grind that pussy on my face.”

You cry out, hands now clinging to his head, nails digging into his mask. You hope you’re hurting him somehow through the fabric. You’re pissed he’s making you feel this good, how good it feels to grind your sopping cunt on his tongue, lips, and chin. His hands are holding you down, letting you grind but not letting you squirm away from his mouth. Fuck, he’s going to make you cum, the way he’s devouring your pussy. Your hips tilt up and down, stuttering in the movements, your panting getting choppier, legs shaking. You feel him groan against you, knowing how close you are, continuing with his sucking, licking, tasting. He’s slurping up your pussy, latching onto your clit painfully as you cry out, back arching up as your cunt contracts painfully around nothing. Ghost doesn’t stop, licking up your arousal, your cum, everything that he can take. Letting out a satisfied noise he releases you from his mouth before you become too overstimulated. His face is wet as he stares up at your heaving form. He quickly reaches out and slaps your sensitive pussy. You squeal, legs closing tightly as you scramble away from him.

“What the fuck?!”

The question is ignored as he smiles darkly at you, standing to his full height. “Knew you’d be messy.” He groans, a bit to himself as he strokes himself through his pants. Your eyes track the movements, thighs squeezing together again.

“Fuck you,” you spit the words out at him, shooting daggers.

“You want to? Okay baby, all you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to keep playing your little games. I would’ve let you whenever you wanted.” He laughs at the look you give him, unzipping the front of his pants. Your response dies as you watch the motion. He pulls his cock out, stroking it lightly as you watch. He’s letting you take him in. Letting you think about the size and girth of him. Your gaze shoots back up to him, ready to tell him no. Hell no. That thing is not getting anywhere near you. It’ll break you in half. A smirk splays on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He doesn’t wait for you to voice your concerns, he’s dipping to the bed, placing his body over yours, caging you in with his weight.

“Let me kiss you.” He mutters down, his eyes catching yours before dipping to your parted and panting mouth.

You answer him with taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. You bite him meanly, wanting to get a reaction out of him. He laughs breathlessly, jutting his cock against your wet pussy. It makes you moan, releasing the biting hold you had on him. It lets him press his mouth against yours, sucking your lips against him. You can taste yourself on his mouth and you whine, hands running up his broad and muscled back to his face. You tilt his head, deepening the kiss. When his tongue hits yours, your hips buck up against his cock, grinding his length against you. He answers with a moan into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. You feel dizzy at the taste and feel of him.

He pulls back from your lips slightly, rolling his hips, letting you grind against his length, soaking it with yourself. “Taste so fucking good.” His head dips to your throat, his tongue blazing a hot trail up to your jaw. His mouth is nipping, tasting, pulling sounds out of you that are pathetic as you press your clit against his throbbing length. The weight of him is on you, the heat of him, it’s making you lose your mind. If you haven’t already.

“Every time you get on my fucking nerves, I think of this. Making you squirm and cry for me.”

“Shut up.” You moan out, hips tilting up at his words. You’re trying to catch the tip of him now, ready for him to fill you up. He’s not letting you, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do. Trying to get the tip of him in you so he’ll fuck you. He’s going to make you work harder for it.

“Why? You get wetter every time I say something.” He laughs dryly, “See? You just fucking keep creaming on my cock. Dirty messy girl. You want me to fuck you. Is that it? Want my cock to stretch you out?”

Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, and he groans, cock jumping between the two of you, making you both moan at the feel of it.

“Yeah. Mark me up. Make me bleed.” His voice is low and growly. He leaves your embrace to shuck his shirt off, coming back down to press you against the mattress. He catches your throat in his teeth, biting and sucking. Crying out, your nails drag down his bare back. Bastard. He hurt you on purpose, so you’d do exactly what he wanted you to. He eases the bite with his tongue, swirling and tasting.

“I h-hate you,” you hiccup, rolling your pussy against him, “just fuck me already.”

Ghost makes a noncommittal ‘hmm’ in the back of his throat as he trails kisses on your collarbones. He’s never nice and gentle for too long, delivering a mean bite without soothing the pain afterwards. You make a keening noise and thump a hand on his shoulder in frustration. He finds that pretty funny, huffing a breathless laugh against your skin as he continues is his assault, obviously in no hurry. He licks a slow and warm line across your breasts. Angry at his carelessness, at his lazy touching and licking, you lean up and catch his collarbone in your mouth. Your teeth sink down harshly.

“Fuck.” He growls out, cock thrusting against you as the taste of blood coats your lips. Of course, he’d get off on the pain. Of course, he’d think it’s the hottest thing in the world, pissing you off –

You release him with a cry, his heavy cock pressing into you now. Your heels catch underneath you, ready to scramble out from underneath him. You see the mark you made on him, the press of your teeth on his skin, the crescents already bruised. He catches you, gripping your hips as he lets out a slew of curse words as he keeps moving forward into you, mingling with your pained noises. It’s thick. So painfully thick, your wetness doing nothing to prepare you for how big his damn dick is. You pant and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to adjust to his size. Your hands scramble up to his biceps, your body trying to take him, push him away or keep him still, you’re not sure. Ghost knocks your feet out from beneath you, grabbing the back of your knees to press them up close to your chest. He’s crushing you and you let out a short angry noise as he presses closer, catching your lips with his. He sucks a kiss, dodging your still biting teeth. He keeps pressing you until he’s got you in a mating press, cock bottoming your vision fades for a moment, you let out a long and anguished noise.

He isn’t moving, he’s so still besides his panting above you, cock twitching in you. His hands flex around the hold he has on your legs, his weight pinning you down completely. He’s deep, deeper than anyone has been, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. You nod at him frantically as you moan, thinking that’ll get him to start moving, but he merely laughs down at you.

“Bratty little thing. You just needed a cock filling you up, huh? Poor girl. Oh.” He chuckles sardonically, “I can feel how much you like me talking to you. Keep clenching around me like that baby and I’m going to start thinking you’re a dirty little slut.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck you.” You hiss out through your bared teeth, nails pressing into his forearms. Even with him still pissing you off, your pussy is clinging to him, keeping him deep and twitching around him as you feel him throb. Ghost doesn’t move his hips. One of his big hands press down the back of your thigh, leaving a fired path in its wake, stopping when his thumb comes around and press hard against your clit. He keeps the pad of his thumb dormant but presses like he’s hitting a button. Your hips twitch, not able to move or grind against him in the way he has you pinned. The pressure he’s keep makes you whine, a little in pain and beyond frustrated. All he’s done is teased you. Taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before casting your gaze on him.

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know how to fuck me right. I think you’re a coward, Ghost, waiting until I was asleep to come in here and have your way with me. I think you got a big thick dick and don’t know how to use it.” You sneer at him, keeping yourself dreadfully still under his cock. You don’t want to move in fear of his reaction.

He freezes, staring down at you. You can’t read him at all. He doesn’t need the mask to hide his emotions or feelings. He’s a master at this, you can tell. That spike of fear from earlier comes back. The one where he scared you in the kitchen with his presence alone. He leans slowly into you, hovering his face right above yours. His eyes are burning. He’s still, he’s so still, until his thumb starts to rub tight pressing circles around your clit. You catch a cry in your mouth, just barely, the noise turning into a higher pitched whine.

“Nice try, sweetheart. Just for that, you’ll come around my big thick dick,” he mocks your tone and words, “without me even moving. You can beg, but it’s not going to happen.”

The words he delivers darkly to you and the circles he’s pressing has you tossing your head back, hips rocking, trying to get away from the feeling. The leg that isn’t caught up in his hand kicks out, trying to catch anything solid. He’s laughing again, the noise is going to haunt you in your sleep for the rest of your life. You’re right there, you’re right there, pussy clutching around his cock painfully. A noise comes from your throat, your head tilting back up as your entire body seizes upwards, right there, you’re right there.

Ghost rips his hand away from you.

“I don’t think you deserve to come on my cock.”

You let out a pained cry, body slumping back into the bed, heart rate erratic. You were so close, cunt about to milk the shit out of the length inside you. You brave a look up at the man and immediately regret it. He’s scary like this, with you at his mercy. You watch his thumb go back to your clit. Your breath catches and he continues like he never stopped. Your body picks up right back the edge, and you mewl out, ready for him to make you let go. Let go. Let go. Right there.

He stops.

Crying out in frustration again, you slap a hand onto his chest in anger. This time he doesn’t find it funny. He lets go of your leg, gripping both hands in a single one of his. The notion of that strikes something in you. His hands are big enough to hold the two of yours. Why did you ever think you could get a one up on this man? Your hips are still tilted up, his cock keeping your lower half pinned to your mattress. You can squirm a bit better, and squirm you do. You freeze, though, when his free hand is moving back to clit, his thumb yet again torturing you. He keeps at it. Bringing you right to the edge only to back away. Right there. He stops. Right there. He stops.

Time ends up blurring together. You can barely keep your eyes open. You have no idea if it’s been five minutes or fifty. Your pussy is leaking, it’s aching painfully, your clit is so sensitive, Ghosts merely has to brush his thumb against it to bring you to the edge. He has to stop touching you for longer periods of time in between so you don’t cum immediately. He’s since let your hands ago, liking the way you clutch at him, the way you try to touch yourself so that he can knock your hands away, the way you shakily brush your fingers over his chest. He’s lost the rest of his clothes besides his soft balaclava, you’re not sure when. You no longer have the energy or brain to be mean. You tried pinching him, slapping him, biting him, anything to get him to let you cum. He has to be in pain with you, feeling how your pussy weeps and clenches around him. Your pleasure isn’t the only thing he’s denying. He’s denying his, just to see you unravel into something else under him.

Unravel you do.

By the millionth -it’s got to be the millionth- time he brushes your clit and denies you, you feel hot tears spill down your cheeks. Anger had long left you, but it’s here again. You’ll do it. You’ll beg.

“Stop! Simon, please! Please fuck, I swear to God, please. Fuck me and fuck me right, please –”

That’s as far as you get before he’s surging his hips into yours, patience worn thin. It’s all he needed to hear. Needed to hear how desperate and whiny you’d get for him, beg him to give it to you the way you need. He doesn’t care if it was delivered with anger, doesn’t care that he had to torture you to get it out. You begged him. Begged him to fuck you. You’re giving him high pitched and breathy uh uh uh’s with his erratic thrusts, music to his fucking ears.

You choke on a broken mewl, pussy flaring hot as you cum hard. You cum like you’ve never before. You feel like you leave your body as you seize up, cunt milking around Simon’s cock. He lets out a curse as he feels you, fucking you through it. Your back arches, and you’re still cumming, you’re still clutching him against you, your body worried that at any moment he’s going to stop. The orgasm rips through you like it’s destroying and rewriting every molecule in your body. A rasp leaves you by the end of it, overstimulated as Ghost keeps going. No. Oh no, he's not going to stop.

Your hands scramble to his hips, like that’ll stop him from fucking and bucking into you with oblivion. “Si—” You manage to choke out, tears spilling from your eyes again.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you? Thought you begged for it?” He laughs, a bit winded, hands digging into your skin. God, he’s so mean, he knows it. Loves looking at how destroyed he makes you feel. He presses down into you, chest against yours as he fucks you. He bites your ear before whispering into it. “I want to ruin you. I want you to feel how ruined you’ve made me after all this time, how every time you snapped back at me, how – fuck- how every time you did shit to piss me off, every time you tried to make a joke out of me. How it’s made me feel. Feel what the fuck you’ve done to me.”

He turns your head to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy and wet kiss that leaves you breathless. With his words and spit of hate, the kiss feels gentle. It feels devastating in way you know nothing will ever compare to this kiss. Nothing will ever compare to the way he’s ruining you from the inside out, his arms wrapping around you to keep him close, the groans and moans he’s giving you as your nails dig into his skin, as your teeth mark him. You’re feeling what you’ve done to him. A broken sound leaves you as you feel yourself close again, his cock hitting just the right spot in you. It’s heavy a dragging through you, making you sob against his mouth. You’re going to feel him for days. Maybe even next week.

All you can think of is him. His cock sinking in deep, barely coming out to press harder into you. The way he tastes as you kiss him, feeling his hands grip anywhere he can touch you while he fucks you open. He’s curling into you, fucking so so deep that you swear you can see stars. He’s consuming you, ruining you just like he said. It’s brutal, but it’s sweet, his kiss subduing you into something placid, somewhere intimate. It’s messy and wet, it’s him. It’s always been him. The thought picks you up and carries you to the throes of your orgasm, hot plasma coursing your veins as your hip pick up and stutter down onto him.

“I’m gonna, ohhhh, I’m gonna—” you hiccup out, arms around his neck to keep him close. You’re licking his lips as you moan, legs coming around his waist to lock around there too.

“Fuck. Fuck. Give it to me. Give it to me, pretty girl.” He’s growling so lowly you hardly hear him as your eyes cross.

You shake your head, frantically trying to hold sane before you leave your body in another debilitating orgasm, “Come in me, Simon, please. Please. I need to feel it. Let me feel what I’ve done to you. I need it I need it.” You’re babbling, a bit nonsensical, clutching onto him so he doesn’t leave you. He’s not going to leave you. He’d never leave you.

Simon drops his head with a moan akin to a whimper before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The pain sends you the edge, his cock surging into you with urgency. It’s so hot, filling you up, as he continues to fuck his cum deep into you. It drags it out for both of you, your bodies not willing to just give up the feeling. He’s pressed so deep into you; you feel like you’re never getting him out. His hips coming to a stuttering stop, his cock still throbbing as the last waves of it roll through you.

You’re both covered in sweat, cum, spit, and who knows else what, but it feels good. It feels good having him collapse on top of you, having his weight on you like a comforting blanket. Your hands trail lazily across his shoulder blades, feeling the irritated and raised ridges of the marks your nails sliced through him. He practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling you in.

“I still hate you.” You whisper to him, but your hands can’t get enough of him, feeling him up. Your mouth can’t get enough of him as you plant kisses anywhere you can reach. You feel him smile into your neck.

“I hate you too, baby.”

[ghostskiss2-0]

Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakely, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as your teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

 Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave you as you come back down to your body, he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

 “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care someone is right out the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you know. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sound winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

[ghostskiss2-0]

Poker Face

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Summary: On an information-gathering operation, things go haywire and not in the way you thought they would.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, little plot, poker playing, gambling, humiliation (? kinda), public sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f/m receiving), praise kink, facial. No use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k

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You’re sitting on Ghost’s lap. During a high-risk mission of all things. You’re sitting on his lap, and you’re trying not to squirm on your Lieutenant of all people. Trying to push the haze of arousal burning through your body and mind away.

His hands are ungloved, something you’ve never had the pleasure in seeing until now. He grips your hips with them, squeezing you softly before easing away.

This game you two are playing has got to be the most dangerous one you’ve partaken in.

A few days ago, Laswell explained what had to be done. Price went over it with all of you in the 141. Two “civilians” in. Gather the information you need and get the hell out of dodge. You have no idea why you’re paired up with Ghost. He refused to go in without a mask, wearing his balaclava he uses around more civil areas. His real mask wouldn’t fly here. You all know this, yet they chose to pair you with him anyways. Seeing parts of him that you haven’t yet seen, actual human under the hard attire he wore loyally, is doing something to your body.

Your cover’s working, the two of you went into this poker game as a couple. It was private, Ghost had to be formally invited by an insider, the whole file on this particular op was large. So much planning had gone underway, Ghost was originally supposed to be here alone. Until the Task Force all realized going in without “arm candy” or a good luck charm was something unheard of with this group of men. Each of them around the table have their own girls on their laps, one even has two surrounding him. You don’t get it. This game hardly makes sense to you, and you’re struggling with keeping your own poker face.

You’re glad Ghost can’t see you, back pressed against his wide chest. You can feel him breathe, shift, everything. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to the man, and you wonder if he’s feeling just as touched starved as you, his fingers trailing lazily up the slit of your dress where your thigh peeks through.

He won’t stop touching you and it’s making you a mess.

When the two of you had first gotten here, you were surprised with how many women were here. How little of clothing they were wearing.

You’re wearing a tiny black dress, the straps crossing at the back, thigh slit showing too much in your opinion. If you happened to bend over, there was no doubt your panties would be on display. You feel naked and vulnerable, no weapons to protect you from harm. Still, it seemed like more clothing than the others were wearing. It was definitely different from your work attire, and you wish you could relive the moment Ghost saw you in this for the first time.

“Christ, are you kidding?” He’d said as he ran a hand over his masked face. Like he was pissed off at your fashion choice.

Your brows furrowed into confusion, “What’s wrong, Lt?”

Ghost’s hand stopped at his mouth as his eyes burned into you, trailing over your entire body before he finally gave you answer. “You’re wearing a tiny fuck-me dress in those shoes,” he points down to your heels that match your dress, “and you expect me to able to do this safely?”

Your hands fidgeted in front of you, “Well, they’ll check us for weapons anyways, so there’s no point in worrying about guns.” You explain, thinking he’s mad at you for not having any place to keep a weapon on you.

A frustrated noise leaves him, his eyes going dark on you. It made you squirm a bit, your breath catching in your throat. “I meant how in the hell am I supposed to be able to focus around you.” It came out like a statement, like he wasn’t questioning it at all.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and honestly, a bit of something else. You had no idea that you could ever have an effect like that on Ghost of all people.

“Thanks, I guess,” you muttered uneasily before he opened the door to the car, ushering you inside before you could dwell on it.

You sure are dwelling on it now, as you feel Ghost take a sigh, chest moving behind you. You’re trying so hard not to fidget, not to do anything, especially when you think about how good he looks right now. How good it feels to be pressed against him, to have his hands idly touch you, like he isn’t even conscious of doing it. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be doing.

You feel him lean in closer to you, hand coming up to your stomach to press you closer into him. “Relax,” he whispers into your ear, causing a delicious shiver to march its way down your spine, “you’re moving too much. Pretend you like me and lean back. They’re going to think I kidnapped you with how nervous you’re being.”

You allow your body to melt into his, turning to look up at him. “I don’t think they’d care about that.” You whisper back, staring into his dark eyes. You watch as his gaze jumps down to your lips and he stares at them from a moment, hand on your hip tightening.

“Oi, love birds. Hands bein’ dealt.” A man calls out to the both of you, breaking whatever spell Ghost was just in.

Blushing, you watch as Ghost picks up his cards, keeping them close to your body. He’s got both arms around you, caging you into him. You stare down at the cards and look up at him to see if they’re good. Of course, Ghost would be the perfect poker player. Even if he didn’t have a mask on, you bet he keeps his expressions to himself quite easily. As you’re trying to study him, to see any slip on if they were good or not, his gaze catches yours, feeling him take a sharp breath in.

“Quit. I’m trying to concentrate.” Ghost almost growls out at you, making you bite your lip at the timber of his tone. It’s rumbling in his chest, making you shudder as you turn away, watching the others around the table take in their cards. Suddenly, a different type of tension takes your body. The air is thicker.

The bets in this game are questions and answers. Each player has their own set of intel, everyone here for a reason. Laswell didn’t inform you on what intel Ghost is supposed to bet, but you’re sure that it’s something that comes at a high price. You know that whatever happens, Ghost is trying to get the highest hand here. The higher the hand, the more you can ask of your opponents. If you don’t answer, you need to have a higher hand than the questioner. If not… you aren’t sure what happens.

Your gaze falls to the table. There’s a gun sitting there, gleaming in the dark light. A revolver, no doubt loaded.

The man across from you bets, eyes set on Ghost. You tense, but you can’t even tell if he’s uncomfortable from the notion that they’re all set on whatever intel he has.

Ghost gruffy sighs out, “Fold.” He sets his cards down on the table, sliding them towards the dealer. The rest of the players continue on, either folding or calling the bet. You can hardly pay attention; you hope Ghost is at least listening on the intel they’re talking about.

One hand of his is placed on the table in front of you, the other under the table, sliding up your leg, dangerously getting closer and closer to your inner thigh. In response, your body produces goosebumps, nipples tightening against the fabric of your dress. It’s too tight to wear a bra and you’re starting to regret it more and more this night went. A woman opposite of you giggles behind her hand, no doubt seeing your reaction happening right before everyone’s eyes. You blush fervently, grabbing Ghost’s hand under the table with your own, trying to get him to stop.

Thankfully, the men don’t care about you or what the woman is laughing about. They continue on with their conversation, as Ghost’s fingers play with your own.  You squeeze his hand, trying to silently tell him to stop, but he either doesn’t get why you’re grabbing him, or he just doesn’t care. He shifts under you, and you freeze, spine shooting you to sit straight up. From the sudden movement, the people around the table scowl at you, suspicion in their eyes. Ghost’s cock under you is hard and throbbing, pressing tight against his pants as you sit on top of it. You wet your lips, heart pounding.

Chuckling, he pulls you back against him, “Sorry boys. Poker gets her a little excited.”

The table around you bursts into laughter and snickers as you tremble against your Lieutenant, humiliated and turned on.

The round ends quickly, the dealer announcing for a break as he locks the cards in the lock box, ensuring no one is tampering with the cards. A couple of men start bantering, some of the women standing from their laps to head to the bar. You stay shuddering in Ghost’s lap, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your neck.

A sharp intake of breath takes you as you feel him nuzzle his masked face into your neck, practically melting in his embrace.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you stand shakily from his lap, gaze going to his as he towers over you. His dark, usual sleepy eyes are burning into you, something ablaze in them. It makes you want to bolt. Instead, you turn away from him as you start your way to the bathroom, jolting as his hand comes to your lower back, guiding you through the halls. The hand is searing hot through the flimsy material, strong and warm. You’re thinking about it between your legs as he shoves open the bathroom door, locking it quickly.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, eyes blown with lust, lips red from your constant biting down on them as you tried to keep yourself from making any noise. Ghost comes up from behind you, and you stare at him through the mirror. He’s so much bigger than you. You barely contain your gasp as his fingers trail up your bare spine.

“After this, you better be on your best behavior.” His voice melts into you as he presses into from behind.

“You’re the one who can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” You snipe back at him, irritated that he thinks you’re the one making it difficult for the both of you.

“Do you blame me? I finally get you away from everyone and here you are, squirming in my lap wearing practically nothing.” His hands grip your hips, pulling you against him, allowing you to feel just how much you’re affecting him.

Ghost fingers curl around the back of your neck, forcing you to keep your gaze on the two of you in the mirror. It’s embarrassing, with how your cunt squeezes around nothing as he makes you look. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch his movements.

He’s torturing you, really. That’s the only way to describe how he’s making you feel. His free hand tugs the front of your dress down, freeing your tits. A rumble comes from his chest behind you.

“No bra? Dirty little girl.” A hand cups your breast, squeezing and testing the weight before his fingers are deliciously teasing your tightening nipples. You watch his large hands play with you in the mirror, legs starting to tremble.

Ghost is taking his time it seems, and in the back of your mind you’re thinking about the poker game that’s going to start back up any moment now.

“Ghost, there’s no time for this, we—"

Your voice dies out into a moan as his hand dips under the skirt of your dress, strategically pressing against your throbbing sex. He makes a pleased noise, finding you soaking through your panties.

“Would you have let me touch you in front of everyone?” He asks, his large frame curling around you, voice in a low timber.

You’re shaking. Breaths coming out in shallow pants as his fingers tease your clit through your clothes. You can’t focus, can’t think straight as you watch and feel what he’s doing to you. His eyes are set on you in the mirror, never looking away for even a second. One hand on your tits, plucking, pulling, rolling. The other creates a devastating pace on your cunt, giving you enough to whine and whimper for him, but not enough to get you there.

He’s freeing you as much as he’s caging you, ruining you.

“Answer me.”

Tears start to pool in your eyes as your hips begin to rock, trying to create more pressure, but he doesn’t give into what you’re trying to do. You nod weakly, a pained whimper leaving your lips.

“Yes, Lt.”

At your answer, he rewards you with his fingers. He pushes your panties aside, collecting your slick. You both collectively groan at the contact, and you hear him mumble a curse behind you as he slowly eases two fingers into you.

“Bend over the counter. Keep your eyes on me.” Ghost says, hand pressing down on your lower back. You bend at your hips, hands gripping the edges of the counter. He flips your dress up and he lets out a pleased laugh. “Fucking pretty, that’s what you are. Look at you, fucking my hand like this.”

You moan out at his words, his fingers pumping slowly into you from behind, your pussy making lewd squelches with how wet you are for him. His other hand rips your flimsy thong off your body, and you gasp as you watch him shove it in his pocket. It should make you feel anything other than turned on when you watch him do that.

Suddenly, he’s dropping loudly to his knees, uncaring about the harsh ground underneath him. You can’t see him in the mirror from this angle and you start to turn to look down at him.

“Eyes forward. Don’t want to see them off yourself in the mirror.”

Following his orders, you look into the mirror, watching the surprise come quickly to your expressions.

Hot tongue, soft lips and scruff are pressing, licking, tasting your pussy. A long moan escapes you and you have to really focus on not looking back at him as he leisurely licks up your arousal. It’d be so easy to look. So easy to sneak a glance. You bite down on your lip as you try to be good. Be good. You’ll be in deep trouble if you look. Your thighs start to quiver and shake as his tongue latches around your clit, a hum coming from him, vibrating through your entire sex.

Moaning, you can’t help yourself. You can’t stop your head from turning to look.

Ghost’s got his balaclava rolled up to allow him to lick your cunt. Something about it, something about that he’d even want to do something like this, to you. To even take his mask off just even a little. Without any warning, as you’re looking down at him, you’re taken by a hot blinding orgasm. Ghost looks up as he continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks and bites, his eyes burning into yours. It’s wet, it’s crippling and you’re thankful for the counter you’re leaning over.

He releases his hold on you, slowly easing his fingers out of your spasming pussy. You’re still looking down at him, sucking down as much air as your lungs are allowing you. He stands up, towering over you, allowing you to look at the bottom half of his face and you shake your head, in disbelief.

“I knew it. I knew you were too good looking and that’s why you wear it.” Your voice is shaky, a little nervous that he’s allowing you to look your fill.

“Quit trying to butter me up,” he growls at you, pulling his mask back down. To your horror, his face is still wet, but you have a feeling he did it on purpose. “You’re still in trouble.”

Ghost grabs you, spinning you around to face him, ass pressing into the counter. He lifts you up with ease, settling you down on top of it, spreading your legs with his hands on your inner thighs. He runs his hands up and down them lazily, feeling you up, making you hot and wanting again.

“I’m sorry –” You squeak and jolt as his thumb starts to press circles against your already sensitive clit.

“You distract me when we’re supposed to be gathering information. You squirm and grind on my lap like a cat in heat, wearing clothes that make all the men stare, and you disobey. You think you’re getting off that easy?” He tsks at you, looking down at you with his dark eyes, slowly pulling out his cock as he continues playing with your pussy.

You shake your head, trying to show him you’re sorry, you’re going to be good.

“Real cute. Try to be quiet and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him stroke his cock, precum dripping from the tip. Your throat suddenly dries, and you take a shaky breath, trying to relax yourself. He’s going to the biggest you’ve ever taken, and you can already tell it’s going to be a challenge. You brace yourself against the counter, fingers squeezing the edges of the porcelain under your open thighs. Ghost steps forward, pressing the head of his cock against your soaking entrance and you sigh out lowly at the feel of him.

He's pressing forward suddenly, making you cry out sharply as he eases his way into you.

“Shh. Good girl.” He tells you, a hand coming up to capture the noise you’re making from your lips. His praise goes straight to your sex, his words making you squeeze around him, and he laughs lowly, “You like that? Like when your lieutenant talks dirty to you?”

Whining behind his hand, you nod frantically as his girth stretches you open. It hurts but it’s such a good hurt. One you know you’ll be aching for later. He stops halfway, letting you adjust until you’re writhing under him, trying to get him to move. He groans at the feel of your hips grinding against him. He sinks himself further inside and now you’re really a mess. You can’t keep yourself from shaking, from whimpering out behind his hand.

It’s thick and heavy, hitting every spot in you that you’ll never be able to reach. His hand leaves your mouth to grip your hips as his thrust pick up, the sound of your soaked pussy filling the bathroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close against you and he chokes at the feel of you.

“Fuck. Feel so fucking good, love. I’m the only one allowed to do this to you, make you feel like this from now on.” His head tips back as he lets out a low groan, your cunt squelching around him.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping onto them for leverage as he continues his assault on all of your senses. The angle he’s hitting you in has got your core tightening, lids lowering in pleasure. His gaze settles back down on you as his thrusts jolt your body, the mirror behind you rattling. You don’t care how loud you’re being now, letting out a pleasure filled squeal, fingernails digging into the material covering his shoulders.

“That’s it, takin’ me so well. Been wanting to fuck this little pussy forever.” Ghost is growling out now, groans and grunts rumbling in his chest, and it sounds so good. Feels so good, you blackout momentarily, gaze crossing before he’s capturing your attention again, a hand gripping your jaw to make you look up at him.

“Focus. Eyes on me.”

His forefingers are rubbing and pressing against your clit again. You’re crying out as you stare half-lidded up at him, your orgasm hurtling towards you fast.

“Simon, please. Please, I’m going to come.” Tears are welling in your eyes as you try to breathe through it. It’s startling how close you are to the edge, on the cusp of exploding. Of breaking into a million pieces under him. Your hands paw at him, overstimulated by the deep thrusts he’s delivering into you, destroying you in more ways than one.

“Come for me, good girl.” He moans lowly, chin dipping to watch where you’re wrapped around him, watching his length glisten with your slick. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, and it pushes you over the edge, crying out his name in chanted syllables, until it’s just empty choked air.

“Good girl. Fuck. Oh, good fucking girl.”

You feel like you’re short circuiting, going haywire as he growls out praises. He’s gripping you so tightly around your hips, you know you’ll have bruises from days later. A reminder of what the two of you got into. Suddenly his thrusts stop as he quickly pulls out of you. You cry out at the abrupt loss of him, until he’s manhandling you to the ground.

“Open your mouth, girl.” His jerking his cock now, as you settle onto your knees, mouth and tongue opening for him. A thumb presses against your tongue, keeping your mouth open and you hear him groan in approval as your wet lashes look up at him. “Fuck, stay just like that. Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Your gaze holds his even when you desperately want to watch him stroke himself. His thumb moves and that’s the only warning you get besides a delicious moan he gives you as his cum hits your tongue and lips. The salt of it coating your throat as you lick it up from him, thankful for whatever he’s giving you. His hand halts in his movements, watching him pant out, shoulders and chest moving with his ragged breaths.

You lean up, sucking on the tip of his still throbbing cock and his hands shoot out to tangle in your hair. He pulls you harshly away with a growl and you smile innocently up at him as you let go with a pop. Licking your lips, catching any salt of him left, you watch him shake his head at you.

He leans down, grabbing your arms to haul back up to your feet. Ghost touches his forehead to yours and your heart warms briefly at the soft contact before he pulls away to help adjust your dress.

“Let’s hope we can both focus now. Game’s started.” He sighs out, his gaze trailing over you. You look freshly fucked and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even care anymore about the mission. He wants to stay with you in this bathroom.

He fixes himself before settling a hand on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom, back to the poker table. Back to his lap. This time you’re quicker to lean against him, to relax, even as his hands trail up your thighs, reminding you he still has your torn panties in his pocket.

[ghostskiss2-0]

Capture

Summary: Reader is well known soldier/vigilante captured by Task Force 141. Ghost is put in charge of keeping you contained while the rest of the Task Force completes an operation a town over. You’ve been under their command for a couple weeks now, tensions are high. Maybe now that it’s one on one, you can escape the grips of Ghost. You’re trained, what could go wrong? He’s only one man.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, enemies to lovers trope, degradation (kinda), praise, mean!ghost, breathplay (if you squint), grinding, outdoor, rough, hate sex, penetration, fingering, creampie, pain kink (you can’t tell me this man doesn’t have one) No use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.4k

Mentally you count down the days since Price and his little lap dogs snatched you up. You think it’s been about two weeks. They have no idea how much this time here has hindered your plans. You’ve tried to explain to them that they’re on a dead end, a path of destruction, that you did what you had to stay alive. That there was always a bigger picture, that the man they were working under was corrupt.

They wouldn’t hear any of it. In fact, they detested hearing you speak. You were a nuisance, a mission gone haywire. Price was supposed to take you to his head of command, Shepherd, but every time something was planned out it fell through. Pilots couldn’t get here, and the only way out was trekking through this dangerous rocky terrain. You’d been hiding low in the mountains after you learned there was a hit on your head. Of course there was. You’ve been after Shepherd and sabotaging everything to do with him. That included sabotaging a lot of the Task Force’s operations, too. This wasn’t the first time you’d run into this group, but it was the first time they got an upper hand on you.

Minor slip up on your end. You’d gotten too comfortable in the mountains, learning the terrain easily. You had no idea that Price could learn it just as quickly as you. You’d done the most dangerous thing a person could do in your line of work. Underestimated your enemy. You were paying the price now.

Three days ago, three of the 141 men left you in the mountains with the most intimidating man of them all. Just your luck. You tried not to let him get you or show just how intimidated you were of him, but hell. He was the largest of them, yet somehow the quietest. The mask he wore didn’t help with your slight timidness around him. From what you gathered; he never took it off. Soap often bantered with him about it, asking him to take it off, teasing him as well. Ghost never really gave into it, but it was entertaining to say the least. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that you’d grown to enjoy the 141’s dynamics. Being alone for so long, you were taking up a slight liking to them. And now they were gone on some other Op under command of Shepherd nonetheless, leaving you and Ghost to move through the mountains on your own, moving slowly out the cold maze of the terrain.

It took you weeks to get this deep in the mountain. You had no idea how the 141 crew managed to catch up with you in the little time that they did. Estimating on the days that the other men had left, they were probably close to the little town below the mountains. Ghost was moving you in the opposite direction they had left in, this side of the mountain more treacherous and a much longer hike to the bottom. The both of you were about halfway down the mountain.

Letting out a sigh, you clench your gloved fists, trying to ease the chill of the air. You weren’t as high up in elevation when you were first captured, but it was still cold. Pockets of snow could be seen in the places hidden by the sun, glaring out at you, reminding you of just how cold you’d be when night came. You’d had to leave all your things behind when they’d fallen upon you. Thermal tent, sleeping bag, all your supplies. They weren’t terribly cruel to you now, being accustomed to your presence, allowing you to walk without your hands tied, because good luck hiking down a mountain with steep terrain and rocks with your hands tied in front of you. You all learned quick that no matter how trained and in control of your body you were, it was impossible to keep balance. Your bruised knees were evident of that.

So, they let you keep them untied as long as you didn’t try any funny business. But when night fell, you were tied up like a dog outside. Wrists bound; feet bound together. They’d toss a thermal blanket over you, and you’d shiver until morning came, lips blue and chapped. That’s how your two weeks have been under their capture. It was hell, but somehow these three days had been worse. Ghost made you jumpy. To try and ease the fear, you talked to him. And he wouldn’t really respond. You knew he could hear you; you could feel the distaste and the anger off of him. He hated you. And you hated him too.

Which made it easier to plan your escape. You wondered if 141 had gotten too comfortable around you in the two weeks. You even shared a few laughs with Soap before you were both scolded by Price or Gaz. They didn’t even bat an eye when they told Ghost they’d leave you alone with him. The man that was adorned with knives, easier to steal than the gun he had slung over his shoulder, or the one strapped to his thigh. It was almost too easy. You just had to be careful, and you were. You wouldn’t move until you were completely sure. Maybe you’d push him off the edge of the mountain. The big man looked like he could handle a tumble.

“Any updates?” You call out to Ghost, who’s just a few feet in front of you, like he knows you’re going to be a good dog, following him along the rocky trail of the mountains.

He doesn’t respond for a second and you open your mouth to ask again before he growls out, “Quit actin’ like you care.”

You huff, trying to hide your smirk. What you’ve learned these past three days is that it’s easy to get on his nerves. It’s fun to get on his nerves, and now you try to any chance you get. You’re going to make him regret ever taking this operation on you, for capturing you.

“C’mon Ghost. I miss Soap. You never told me what kind of Op they’re on. I’m a little worried, I haven’t heard you talk sweet nothings with Johnny in forever.” You pout, looking down at your feet, careful of the rocks you’re stepping over. You’re so preoccupied with making sure you don’t trip that you don’t see Ghost stop in front of you. Nose now smacking into his vested up chest, you yelp in surprise, jumping back to glare up at him.

He's glaring down at you and despite the sliver of fear you feel, you defiantly stare back up at him, crossing your arms. The cold air is nipping at your unmasked face and suddenly you’re mad that his face is probably nice and warm under that scary thing. In fact, he looks warm everywhere, with his jacket under his bullet proof vest, covered head to toe in winter clothes. They’d freaking snatched you up without grabbing any of your real essentials for this terrain. The only things you have on you are a jacket, gloves, pants and boots. You felt naked and underdressed, especially with no weapons. There’s no doubt your nose is red and cold, face flushed. You probably look ridiculous but that doesn’t stop you from giving Ghost a death stare, pretending to be unbothered by the weather and his piercing gaze.

The man doesn’t say anything, but you know what he’s saying. He’s telling you to shut up. Without a word, he turns his back to you and starts forwards again as you let out a frustrated noise. Your legs and feet are killing you from hiking nonstop. If you complain, it’ll fall on deaf ears. You start after him, silent for a moment, taking in the mountain and scenery. Too bad it’s so pretty here, it almost ruins the notion that you were here in hiding. Your mind wanders. You could pretend that you two are working together on an Op, trailing through the mountain to take down Shepherd. Despite your state, you chuckle to yourself, Ghost whipping his head around to glare at you at the sound.

“What’re you laughing at?”

Fighting a smile, you shrug. “I was thinking it’d be funny if we ran into a mountain lion or something.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, like actually rolls his eyes at you before he starts ahead again. This time you laugh out loud.

“Oh, come on! It’s possible. We’re in the mountains that no one travels through, except maybe hunters. There’s probably a large chance that we could run into either!” You exclaim, almost giddy that you got a real reaction out of the stoic Ghost.

As if you conjure it up with your words, movement starts a few football fields away from the two of you. Ghost stops abruptly and you come up closer behind him, heart pounding. There, adorned in hunting gear are two men, unaware of your presence yet. Your mouth opens, voice ready to shout out at them, until Ghost whips around, almost eerily sensing what you were about to do, gloved hand clamping around your mouth just as you let out a muffled scream.

“Fucking hell.” He growls down at you, dragging you around the bend of the mountain you were just in front of, hand over your mouth as you continue to scream, thrashing against him. You trip backwards, falling harshly against the side of the mountain. Ghost comes down with you, one hand around the back of your head, the other still over your lips. Panting under his hand as your back presses against the rocky terrain, you glare up at him. You’re sure you’ll feel how hard you just fell later today, but the adrenaline surging through you is enough to lash out at him, unaffected by the rocks.

“Stop, dammit.” He hisses lowly at you as you continue to thrash, your hands clawing at his forearm. His fingers pinch your nose, cutting off your oxygen supply. “You’re going to wear yourself out, little girl.”

Something in his voice and eyes makes your heart rate spike, his voice like liquid fire to your veins. Suddenly you’re warmer than you’ve been in weeks. You stop struggling, your lungs burning, aching for air. Shaking, you stare up at him with wide eyes, trying to stay still even with how your lungs are protesting. Testing you, Ghost allows you to breathe, but keeps his hand clamped around your lips. You gasp for air, trying to breathe around his glove, sucking up oxygen through your nose and mouth. The hand behind your head flexes a bit and you realize in this position he could easily snap your neck. He squeezes your face a bit and you want to bite his hand, as you glare. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done it three days ago.

“Be quiet. Try anything, and you’re going down the rest of this mountain gagged and bound.” Ghost roughly tells you, shaking your face slightly before slowly letting you go. Your thighs clench together at his promise, face flushed now for a whole different reason than the cold. He watches you for a moment, before he decides you’re being obedient.

Taking a shaky breath, still trying to get enough air in your lungs from screaming as loud as you could and then being cut off oxygen entirely. Ghost’s gaze is on you, his hand slipping away from the back of your head, keeping his crouching position in front of you, ready to pounce if you make any sudden movements. You feel like prey like this, pressing into the mountain behind you, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The man in front of you is an unmoving boulder, large enough to block out anything behind him.

He pulls a heartbeat sensor out from his pack, turning it towards where the hunters are. From this angle you can see his lashes cast downwards as he studies the screen. They’re stupidly long and you bet he’s stupidly handsome under that mask of his. Your gaze trails down to his vest, seeing a hilt of a knife peeking out from a pocket, a thought forming in your mind quickly. Your fingers tingle under your gloves and your breath quickens. This is it. This is your chance.

Launching yourself forwards, your hand snatches out quickly. Fast hands are deadly, you think, and this is your expertise. Your left-hand jolts up to hit the sensor out of his hands, and it crashes to the ground. Ghost makes a noise in the back of his throat that slashes fear through you, but you persist in your task, kicking out one of your legs at him. He grunts as your boot connects with his side, falling a bit backwards from the hit. The hilt of the knife is in your clenched fist and as he falls, you pull, the knife coming up and out easily of his vest.

This time, you’re the one to pounce on him, free hand grabbing a hold of his jacket and vest, the knife going to the junction of his throat. The two of you have labored breaths, adrenaline no doubt consuming the both of you now. Ghost is oddly still as your legs squeeze around his midsection, ready for him to throw you off. The tip of the knife presses into his covered throat and he stares up at you, no glare to be found. He doesn’t even look mad and that pisses you off.  Freezing, you watch as one of his hands plays with a strand of your hair that fell forward in the tussle. You’re trembling now and you can’t figure out why, readjusting your grip on the knife.

“You’re pretty when you’re mad at me.” He tells you, and a gasp fills you as his hand wraps around your hair now, tugging it harshly. His voice drops into a deadly tone, “Makes me want to hurt you.” As if you weigh nothing to him, he sits up, your body sliding down from his midsection to settle in his lap.

Craning your neck, trying to tug your hair out of his grip, you hiss down at him. “Says the one with a knife to his throat. Let go or it’s going to find a new home.” To give an idea of the weight of your words, you press harder, no doubt nicking the skin under the fabric of his mask.

He tsks, his other hand shooting up to grab your wrist and squeeze. Crying out, you drop the knife and then let out an enraged noise. You grab at his mask, fully intent on ripping the damn thing off him. He lets go of your hair to grab your other wrist, bringing the two of your hands together, holding both in a vise grip with just a single fist of his. You tug against him and make a move to stand up from his lap. Ghost tugs you back down on top of him with ease, placing you hard against—

Oh.

A small gasp leaves you as you blink up at him, surprise etched on your face before it turns into a scowl. You can act angry all you want, but you can feel him hard against you. You have half the mind to rub your aching wet cunt against him. “You sick fuck.” You spit out at him.

Ghost has the audacity to chuckle down at you, yanking you closer to him by your wrists. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, his eyes and voice dark. “I can feel how much you’re shaking against me.”

Much to your demise, your body betrays you. You squeeze your thighs tight around him on accident, hot arousal burning its course through you. You won’t let him have it though. He isn’t allowed to have your pleasure. “It’s because I’m scared of you,” you growl at him, tugging again at the grip he has on your wrists.

“Mm. Maybe. That’d be the sanest response. But you didn’t kill me. You hesitated. You’re not even screaming for those hunters anymore.” Ghost tilts his head, looking to where your wrapped around his torso before he lets out a dark laugh that has you almost panting. “I can give you a reason to scream.” He lets out hoarsely, voice thick, as his gaze trails back up to yours.

You’re scared now, heart leaping up to your throat. He looks dangerous like this and a part of you knows you’re liking it too much. You start to panic. “Ghost – please, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone for your knife—”

“No,” he cuts you off, “you really shouldn’t have.”

You’re going to start screaming again, hoping that the hunters haven’t moved down the mountain too far. They have guns. If you can keep Ghost from killing them, you can take theirs and get away. Far far away from this man. Sucking in a deep breath, you start –

His hand comes down over your mouth and he laughs dryly again, making your arousal tingle up your spine. You can feel his cock throb against your inner thigh as you bite down on his gloved hand and he lets out a grunt before he’s pushing his hand more against your mouth, daring you bite down harder. “That’s real cute, baby. How’d you know I’m a sucker for pain?”

You thrash against him, letting go of his hand from between your teeth, accidentally grinding down on his thigh you’re straddled around. A whimper catches in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to keep your reactions to yourself. You feel like he’ll win if you don’t.

“Like I said. You want a reason to scream? I’ll give ya one. Let’s see if those men hear and try to come save you.” He stands, pulling you up with him, pressing your back into the mountain. Looking down at you, you watch his pupils flare as his free hand comes to the front of your pants, cupping your pussy.

Your head falls back at the contact, knocking against the rocks and you let out pained noise. There he is again, chuckling down at you, being cruel as he starts to rub you through your pants. Your hips move to their own accord, trying to catch with his rhythm. You’re practically dry humping his hand as his other pinches your cheeks together, tugging your gaze to look up at him. A whimper escapes you and you try to get out of his grip.

“You wet for me, baby?” Ghost asks as his hand presses harder against you, your hips stuttering with pleasure. He knows what he’s doing. You hate him. You’re soaking through your pants, you’re sure he’s going to start feeling how turned on you are, how your cunt is dripping for him, but still, you deny. You shake your head frantically, even as you moan, allowing the noise to escape your throat. You don’t care about him hearing you anymore. Not with how good his hand feels. The friction is almost too much as your clit catches against the seam of your pants, his hand adding a delicious pressure to it.

“You’re such a little liar. Look at you, so desperate. You’re riding my hand like you wish it was my cock.” Ghost pulls his hand away from your face but continues letting you grind down against his other hand. Your nails scratch against the rough surface behind you, refusing to grab onto him like you want to. You want to make sure he keeps his hand there, want to hold him there until you get your fill, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I hate it.” You hiss at him, despite your pace picking up. God, you’re getting close. The band getting tighter, the pressure too much yet not enough at the same time.

Abruptly he pulls his hand away from your covered pussy, and you cry out in frustration, your own hands shooting out trying to grab at him before you force back down at your side, clenching them into tight fists. You’re shaking, trembling, legs barely holding your body weight up. Glaring up at him, you say nothing even as frustrated tears prick your eyes.

“Keep lying to me, girl. I can do this all day.” To prove his point, Ghost crosses his arms, showing shop was closed.

“I hate you.”

“There we go. Was that so hard?”

Ghost grabs you, turning you around to press your front to mountain. Your hands come up to brace yourself, and you look at him from over your shoulder, brows furrowed in anger at him. If he thinks you’re going to beg for it he’s dead wrong. He comes up to press into you from behind and you still, feeling the heat of his body seep into yours. Shuddering, you look up at him as he looks down at you, and he almost tenderly brushes your hair aside before he’s gripping the back of your neck, keeping you immobile.

Slowly, you feel an ungloved hand slip into the front of your pants, past your panties. Your breath quickens and you struggle against him, trying not to let him feel exactly what’s he’s doing to you. It only makes it worse as your struggles grind your ass against his hard length as he lets out a surprised hum at the back of his throat, his fingers dipping into your slick.

“This all for me?” He asks, masked voice pressing up against your ear as he cages you against his hard unmoving body and the rock in front of you.

You shake your head as you let out a whimper.

Meanly, he pinches your clit and you squeal, trying to scramble away from him. “What’d I say about lying?”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, it’s all yours. It’s for you. I’m sorry.” Your sobs turn into low moans as he takes your apology, the pinching turning into loose circles. The abrupt change has you dazed, grinding your sopping cunt against him.

“That’s it. Good girl.” The praise from him makes your core spike. His circles and pressure tighten on your clit and the orgasm he’d stolen away from you starts back up, hot and heavy. Your head falls back against his shoulder, letting out a groan. You haven’t been touched by anyone other than yourself in so long. Too long. You doubt you’ll last with him doing this to you. You don’t want to.

Ghost’s arm braces you against him, forearm crossing over your chest, hand around your throat. His fingers hold steady, a tight grip but he doesn’t squeeze the air out of you. The threat there has your breaths quicken, the edge of it pushing you over. Blinding hot white pleasure surges through you and you cry out, hips rolling against his fingers. He shoves to fingers in you at the peak of your orgasm, making you clench tightly around them, legs squirming as he holds you to him. It’s too much as he starts pumping his fingers in you, saying something in low tone to you that you can’t even comprehend. You can’t even think straight.

Suddenly his fingers pull out of you and you sob out from the loss, crumbling against the wall of mountain. Ghost yanks down your pants, pushing you back up against the wall and then he’s there, he’s pressing against your aching needy pussy with his cock –

“Too big too big!” You squeal, trying to get away from him from what seems like the thousandth time today.

His hands come around your hips in a vice grip, keeping you in place and he thrusts up into you in one motion. Tears fall down your face as his hips start undulating, letting you slowly adjust. His cock feels like it’s splitting you apart, hitting and stretching in all the right places.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” Testing you, he pulls out slightly before sliding back in. Your head drops to press against the mountain, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. You can hear how wet you are as he thrusts slowly into you, easing you into it.

A moan slips from you, Ghost’s fingers flexing around your hips as he pulls you backwards onto his cock. The coil in you starts to tighten again as the man starts a brutal pace, making you cry out. You feel like a mess, unable to contain how loud you’re being.

“Atta girl. Let me hear it. Wanna hear how good I’m making this pussy feel.” He starts pounding into you with ferocity, pressing you up against the wall, squishing you against him. There’s nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do besides take it and hope you’re still functioning afterwards.

Ghost is grunting and groaning behind you, unafraid of letting you hear how you’re making him feel. It makes your pussy clench and squeeze around him and you’re hurtling towards the edge of the cliff again, thighs quivering.

“Ghost, I’m—” You start, unable to catch your breath as your sight starts to fuzz out.

“God, yes. Come on my cock, need to feel it.” He growls, his fingers coming around your front to assault your clit, pushing you way over the edge.

Ecstasy thrashes violently through you as your pussy spasms around him. You head falls back into his chest as your lungs are rung out from your pleasure filled screams, Ghost soon joining you with a roar of his own. His cock pulses inside of you as he cums, lengthening your orgasm, cunt eager to milk him for all he’s worth. He bucks into as you both ride it out, panting like you’d just gotten down with running a marathon.

He pulls slowly out of you after you gather your bearings, you whine lowly at the feel of him. Your legs give out and you slide down the wall. Sucking in air, you turn to look back at him, watching him put his glistening dick back into his pants. He tosses a piece of fabric to you, which you surprisingly catch given the current state you’re in.

“Clean up. We still have daylight to use. We’re getting down this mountain soon.” He gruffly commands you, eyes burning into yours.

Weakly, you manage out, “Fuck you.”

You see him grin under mask. “Ya just did, love. We can have round two later if you want it so bad.”

[ghostskiss2-0]

writin’ up an enemies to lovers ghost x reader ! here’s a sneak peak. estimated to drop later tonight;)

[ghostskiss2-0]

hey ! so i made a new acct so i can interact more i’m moving to

see ya there!

[ghostskiss2-0]

The Interrogation

Summary: Ghost has finally gotten a tail on you. After the Russians took you and your men down during the Black Bag Operation, you disbanded from the Shadow Company completely. You’ve been laying low trying to get a hit on the very man that set you and your men up. Graves. Ghost believes you’re spy and know all of Graves’ plans. Set in Las Almas, roughly after Ghost and team were betrayed by Graves. Soap is MIA.

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. It is loosely based in the 2022 reboot, with “You” inserted as a solider previously under command of Phillip Graves, Shadow Company. Explained more inside, but please don’t take everything to heart, COD game wise. Spoilers for game below, don’t proceed if you plan on playing the game.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, interrogation, mask!nk, AFAB reader, no Y/N usage, praise, fear k!nk, penetrative, fingering, creampie, bound hands, rough

Word Count: 3.6k

Days. Days you have been here, in this town. In this home. You had found the base at the edge of town, far enough from most of the cartel, but close enough to get to them if you needed. You’d offered a money – a lot of it – to the family that lived here to leave. It was the perfect cover. No one would think you were lying low in a loving home, pictures of the family hanging on the walls, food in the drawers.

It was perfect.

Until now.

You’d just gotten back from trailing after a couple of Shadow soldiers. None you’d known or worked with; it’d only been a few months and Graves already had more soldiers than you could count. You were only one person, granted you were trained, but there was only so much intel and ground you could cover. It’d been a long day, you tell yourself, with the hair on the back of your neck on stand and shoulders stiff. That’s why I got caught off guard, you think.

You know better. You know what this is, who’s behind you in the dark corner of the kitchen. You can feel it in your bones. The very core of your essence. But that doesn’t ease your fear. No. It makes it worse.

Throat closing in fight with fear, your head barely moves an inch, chin dipping to your shoulder to cast a glance over it. Fingers trembling at the hilt of your knife strapped around your thigh.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, love.”

The bass of his voice shakes your bones with anguish. How long had it been since you’d seen him? Years. Way before the incident that had left you scarred. The incident that had brought you here now, on the hunt for Graves.

“Ghost.” Your voice in a whisper. It wasn’t a question. Even before you heard his voice, you knew it was him. The very air changed around him, no matter where he was. His presence was a void. Dark and dangerous.

The man behind you doesn’t confirm, but instead steps out from the shadowed corner, the moon from the window adjacent to you casting a subtle light on him. His eyes gleam. You feel like prey, standing like this, shaking like you aren’t a trained soldier. You know this isn’t a friendly visit. Slowly, he makes his way in front of you, and you concentrate on not allowing your body to take a step back from him. His shoulders are wide, blocking your view of the window, of everything until there’s only him. Ghost’s gloved fingers brush against yours at the hilt of your knife, unsheathing it from your leg. Your gaze trails up from his chest to his eyes behind the mask and you suppress the urge to shiver. You can’t read him at all.

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out with more conviction than you feel.

Pocketing your knife, he takes a step away from you and suddenly you can breathe. With a clearer head, you take all of him in. He has blood on his clothes, his chest moving with his breaths, like he’d just gotten done from running. You watch as he turns his back to you, a slight insult that you knew he was saying you weren’t a big enough threat to him to stay on guard. It makes you clench your fists in anger. He’d always looked down on you in field, going so far as calling you ‘Princess’ instead of your respected call name.

Ghost turns back to you, revealing a chair he’d pulled from the table. Gesturing to it with a hand he starts, “Have a seat. Nee’ta have a chat.”

A part of you wants to tell him to go fuck himself. It’s the fear of what he’d do that has you wetting your lips and listening to his command. If he was here, then he’d run into Graves. Who knew if he was on the Shadow Company’s side or not. He hadn’t killed or harmed you yet. Settling down, you yelp as he grips your wrists, bending to tie them behind your back. Now, you panic.

“Ghost, wait,” you frantically begin, trying to undo the ties as he quickly stands up from his position. Your teeth grit in frustration, he was too fast at everything to deal with in this field. You hadn’t even seen anything in his hands to tie you up with. “Please, you have to listen to me.”

Standing in front of you, the burly man crosses his arms, looking down with his piercing gaze. His head tilts for you to go on.

Swallowing, your tone firm but had an undeniable shake to it. No person could ever scare you like this, trained as you are. No one. But Ghost was a whole different entity in himself.

“I’m here for Graves.”

Ghost shoulders lifts in a sigh, like he doesn’t have time for this. “If you aren’t going to talk, love, I can find a way to make you.”

You try again, “There was a botched Ops job a few months back. I’m supposed to be dead right now, Ghost. The Company thinks I am dead right now.” You can’t tell what side he was on. Was he here to kill you under the command of Shepherd?

A knife produces from his gloved hand as he kneels in front of you. Tantalizingly slow, he brings it up, the light flashing against the metal, and he trails the tip of his knife against your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat. If he thought you’d be able to talk now, trembling in fear, with tears pricking in your eyes, good luck.

“I already know that, Princess. Took me a bit to figure it out, but I did. Now tell me why you’re here. In Las Almas. You spying for Graves? Keeping an eye on us? Didn’t think I’d catch you sniffing around the Company’s vehicles?” As he speaks gently in that rough voice of his, like he’s talking about the fucking weather, his free hand whipping out to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

A whimper comes out of you and his grip tightens slightly, knife trailing down the thin tank top you’re wearing. “Ghost, I swear, I didn’t know you were here. I had no idea 141 was involved. I’ve been tailing Graves. I’m not a part of the Company anymore.” Anger flashes through you, thinking about Erickson and Vance. How Dipaolo was just getting out of the burning vehicle, the hope that had blared through you as he was getting out only for it be shot down. How you had to suppress your shout as you laid out in the grass, hidden, unable to do anything as the massacre began.

The anger and hurt is what brings your spirit back. Ripping your chin out of his grip, your lip curled in a snarl, tears threatening to fall. “I watched my men burn and die. I watched it happen and then I watched Graves and Shepherd do nothing about it. Fuck you, Simon.” Venom laced in your tone as a tear falls from your eyes. Because how dare he. How dare he think you were working for the bastard that ruined your life. Your career. Everything.

Ghost makes an amused noise at your tone before he lashes out at you, picking you up from the chair by your shoulders like you don’t way a single ounce to him. Kicking out at him, you shriek, hands still bound behind your back. You were a soldier dammit, it was time to act like one. The initial shock and fear from seeing him subsided, and now you were going to get out of here. Or die trying. No one is going Graves from you. You don’t care what side Ghost is on.

Throwing your body weight against him, you struggle, trying to get his grip off you. Slamming your heel down, you stomp on his foot, a small ounce of joy filling you as he grunts with pain. He’s got you caged against him and the table behind you. A hand comes up behind your head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging harshly to bare your neck to him. Panting, you look up at him as his knife presses against your chest, and you still. There was no use in fighting him with your arms tied. He’s strong, way stronger than any man you’ve ever fought.

A smile curls against your lips as a dark thought ran through your mind. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be the one against your blade.”

Something in his eyes flash through them and suddenly you feel how close he’s pressed up against you. Your core tightens despite being held knife point by him. A whole different kind of shudder runs through you now, you gaze staring up into his. You watch as his eyes slowly trail down the front of your body, your nipples tightening against the shirt you wear. His cock twitches against your thighs he’s pressed up against. A shaky breath leaves your mouth and his eyes dart back up to your lips, his fingers in your hair flexing to get a tighter grip, making you cry out in pain.

“I’m going to get the truth out of you, Princess. Going to do it my way.” He growls out, and you start to protest, going to tell him you were telling him truth until he moves you faster than you can even comprehend. He’s so big, you’d never understand how he could be so silent and quick. He turns you around the table, shoving the top half of your body onto the table, hinging at the hips. You can’t hold yourself up with your arms bound behind your back, the side of your face pressing into the wood. A blush hit your cheeks as you realize what kind of position you were in for him.

“Ghost,” you start, almost panicky as heat envelopes your body. What was happening?

“Quiet.” He grinds out, his gloved fingers hooking into the waist band of your pants, tugging them down with force. You squeak, going to move up from your position, embarrassment and arousal running its course through you. He pushes you, forcing back down against the table and you try to hide yourself with your bound hands. “Don’t move, Princess. That’s a direct order.”

Your arousal slicks further and you nod, trying not to squirm under his gaze. “Yes, Lt.”

A groan coming from him behind you makes your pussy clench on air. You want to whimper and squirm further, feeling more vulnerable than you ever have in your life.

Hands run up the length of the backs of your naked thighs, palming your ass and spreading your cheeks. You stifle a gasp, trying not to move from the abrasive texture of his gloves against your skin. Moments pass and your whimpering, trying to get him to do something, anything, but he stays where he is, just looking at your pussy as it leaks down your thighs.

“Please.” You whine, trying to move from under his hands.

“Please what, pretty girl? Use your words.”

“Please touch me, Ghost. Anything. Please. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Tears are falling from being in this frustrating position, as he just looks and does nothing. Your arms are burning from being bound. And you’re so turned on to the point it hurts.

A hum comes from him, and you hear him shuffle up from behind you, no longer kneeling to watch as he pleased. He grabs your hands, unbinding you and you sigh out in relief, only for him to move your arms up over your head, binding them again. A pained moan comes from you from the change of blood flow, but you’re not allowed to dwell on it too long before he hauls you up from the table. He turns you towards him, setting you down on your shaky feet. You look up at him, tears staining your cheeks, and you swear you can see him smiling under his mask.

Humiliation settles in. Shielding yourself with your bound hands in front of you, you start to shy away from him. “You’re teasing me, Ghost.” Your tone is hurt and accusatory and you wonder what the hell this all about it. He’s teased you on the field before, calling you Princess and making jabs about how you do your job, but never something as cruel as this.

“Arms above your head, love. Don’t give me that look.” Ghost’s tone is light, like this could all be joke to him. Despite the swirling feelings in your stomach, you do as your told because who knows what he’ll do if you don’t?

Ghost takes his knife out again and you try to step back, arms quickly coming back down to your front. He tsks at you, pining you back down against the table, your legs dangling off the edge of it. His free hand jerks yours above your head and you start to shake again. The fear and arousal a dangerous mix inside of you. “Am I going to have to tie you up like this or are you going to listen?”

You nod frantically, “I’ll listen, I’ll listen.” To prove the point, he lets go and leans up from the table, eyeing you like you’ll move any second. You stay still. “Good girl.”

You press your thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing you can feel through your entire body.

Silently, he trails the knife down the front of your body, the tip catching against the fabric of your shirt. Goosebumps erupt on your body, as you tremble even further. His knife gets to the edge of your shirt, just above your belly button before he stops. His hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs open to stand in between them. He presses against your bare pussy and you let out a small groan.

“Ghost—” You gasp out as his knife suddenly swipe up against your shirt, cutting it down the middle, his hands quickly shoving the material aside as he yanks your bra down, freeing your tits. He discards the knife on the table beside you.

“If you’re good, I’ll make you cum, Princess.” Ghost hisses as he meanly pinches one of your nipples, making you cry out.

Tears falling again, you nod frantically, almost out of your mind, ready to beg him.

He starts.

Ghost’s gloved hands trail down your body, squeezing and touching his fill. You’re so sensitive it feels like torture being touched like this. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he spreads your pussy, cruelly swiping his gloved thumb up and down your wet slit. The abrasive texture is too much on your clit, making you squirm, unsure if you want to press against the pressure or run away from it.

“You’re trying to kill Graves,” he says, like he’s unaffected by what he’s doing to you. Like you’re just a toy he’s playing with.

You nod frantically, unable to form any words as he teases you. There’s not enough pressure but the rough texture of his gloves is driving you insane.

“Words, love.”

Panting out you nod again, “Yes. I want to kill him for what he did. What he’s done here.” Your head clears just slightly, looking up at him. His gaze is soaking you up like he can’t get enough of looking at you.

“Hm.” Is all he says as he beings to take his gloves off. Your skin pricks with anticipation, barely moving so he doesn’t change his mind. “Let me see how wet you are for me.” He brings his bare fingers down to your wetness, a groan coming from him as he feels your pussy, his thumb starting small circles around your aching clit.

A whine comes out of you, your hips bucking up, trying to get him to go faster. He chuckles, sinking a finger into you. “That’s it, love. Fuck.” He groans as he looks down at where you’re fucking his hand, adding another finger in you, his thumb starting up again. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Obliging, you rock your hips against him, the edge of your orgasm coming quickly. Your pussy grips his fingers, and you mewl out at how good he feels. Ghost starts thrusting his fingers into you, fucking you as the pressure against your clit gets tighter and you cry out, stars coming into your vision. Clamping down on him, you scream as you come, as it tears through your body violently, your vision blackening with how intense it is.

“That’s it, atta girl. Come for me.” He doesn’t stop his assault even as your pussy spasm around him, throwing you into another debilitating orgasm. Panting as you come down, he takes his fingers out, putting them under his mask to taste you and you moan at the sight. You want to tell him to take it off but you know better than to poke the bear. Your limbs feel like liquid, and even though your arms above your head are killing you, you can’t seem to complain.

Watching him, he takes his fingers out of his mask, producing a groan. His hand palms his cock in his pants and your pussy pulses with need. You need him in you. You start to try to sit up and he quickly pushes you back down, one of his hands on your inner thigh.

“Wrap your legs around me.” His voice is graveled and husky, and you smile up at him as you do. He shudders against you as he takes his cock out and you want to cry. There’s no way he’s going to fit.

“Wait, I don’t think—”

“You’ll take it. Be good, remember?” Ghost growls out, gripping the base of his cock to press the head against your aching hole. “I need to fuck this cunt. It’s going to drive me insane.”

His crass words make you blush and moan as he slowly starts to press inside of you. Your squirm, his other hand coming to your hip to keep you still. Crying out, he pushes inside, his girth tearing you apart as he spears inside of you. You both pant as he starts to bottom out, feeling him too deep, pressed tightly against your cervix. Then he starts pushing more against it.

“I-it’s too much,” you cry, fresh tears in your eyes. You feel full, like he’s going to rip you apart.

“Ah, fuck. So fucking tight, such a good cunt.” He doesn’t wait for you to adjust before he starts fucking you. He leans his weight on you, your bound arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

“Ghost, oh my god.”

He growls out, thrusting up into you, “Say my fucking name, Princess. Tell me who’s making this pussy feel good.”

You cry out again as he pounds into you, his cock hitting all of the right places and then some. “Simon, Simon.”

“That’s it girl. Take this cock. Fuck, you’re so fucking good. Love this cunt.” A hand comes up to curl in your hair, forcing you to look up at him, “Look at me, keep your eyes on me.”

Your gaze locks with his under his mask, and you moan out. He was going to ruin sex for you. Nothing was going to come close to this. Your walls tighten around him, making him curse out, fuck, you were going to come again.

“Simon, please. Please please, I’m going to come again.”

His pace starts to brutalize you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, cock drunk. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, stealing you so violently you scream out, chanting Ghost’s name.

“Oh fuck, that’s it. Milk my cock, baby. Good fucking girl. Fuck, I’m going to come.” Ghost growls out, pounding into you as he groans. Your pussy clamps around him, and you pull him closer with your legs.

“Come in me, Simon. Please.” You beg, tears streaming down the side of your face. Ghost inhales sharply, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that, before his cock throbs inside of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He growls out, his thrusts slowing as he fucks his come into you. You moan lowly, your cunt spasming against him again, coming with him. His hips still, letting the both of you feel how tight of fit he was, squeezing around him.

Another groan falls from him as he pulls slowly out, dropping to his knees to watch his come leak out of you. You can’t think straight, still trying to gather your surroundings and think of exactly what just happened. It all went down so fast. Taking a shaky breath, you tentatively ask him, “Do you believe me now?”

A dry chuckle comes from him as he spreads your pussy lips, smearing his come on you purposely, making sure you were properly filled. A whine comes from you as he does this. “Did after the first time I asked you, Princess. I wasn’t going to let this pass up.”

You gasp with disbelief, tugging at your tied wrists now, “Simon!”

He hums, holding a finger up to silence you as he stands, his free hand clicking on his radio. “Soap – this is Ghost. How copy?”

A blush deepens on your cheeks as you close your legs, sitting up from your position on the table. Of course, he was on an op. You wait until Soap responds, Ghost telling him to meet at the church. He comms off and looks back down at you, taking in your state before cutting the ties at your wrists.

“C’mon, Princess, get dressed. Let’s go light up Graves.”