ghostskiss

[ghostskiss]

*comes sniffing in your ask box for treats*

throwing in a silly little request for Simon and Price sharing a partner maybeeee? ily 👉👈

🐩

Fade To Black

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x Captain John Price

["Fade To Black" by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - your boyfriend's love making you feel good <3 that's the summary lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, all porn zero plot<3, established poly relationship, oral [f!receiving], fingering, m!masturbation, voyeurism?, unprotected piv, soft!ghost [use of pet names, praise, obsessed boyfriend things], implied dom!price [minor degradation, minor dumbification], ghost loves you, price loves you too, breeding kink [predictable with my writing i know 😭], both men are possessive, strong language

🍪 - for you !! with a side of cod smut, of course ;3

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Your relationship with John and Simon was, quite possibly, one of the best aspects of your life.

They both took care of you so well, and ensured you had everything you could possibly need. They both spent quality time with you, together and individually, and both spoiled you like good boyfriend's should. They both protected you, too– Simon's hand on the small of your back in public, shooting dark glares at other people brave enough to glance in your direction– John's warm hand in yours, guiding you through a crowd, his thumb brushing soothing stripes across your knuckles.

Both of them loved you. Both of them were totally, utterly obsessed with you.

How could they not? You were just so good for them. Always worrying about them, patching up the wounds they often returned home with, cooking for them after a long day working. You tended to their needs first, in more ways than one– example, you never complained about dropping to your knees in front of them if they needed some kind of release.

God, they loved that part. They loved the part of you that was so eager to be good for them. Both of them. How willing you are to let them toss you back and forth between one another, bend you over the couch, spread you out on the rug, pin you up against a wall. Obviously, they loved everything about you, but a pretty thing like you being theirs and theirs alone? A blessing.

But just as much as you loved to service them, they loved to service you. It was in their nature, of course. Looking after their girlfriend? Their future wife? It was instinct.

And besides, even when it was their turn to give more, you were still always good for them.

Late one evening, John returned home and kicked off his shoes. Usually, you'd rush to the door to greet him, even if you did have to wriggle your way out of Simon's hold sometimes. You'd wrap your arms around him and hug him tight, and he'd return the hug with a kiss to the top of your head.

This time was different. You didn't rush into the entry-hall to greet him with the most beautiful smile. Instead, John was greeted by complete silence as he walked further into the flat.

Well, it wasn't complete silence.

Other times where you'd failed to greet him, he couldn't help but frown. This time, his lips quirked into a knowing smile as he made his way towards the living room.

Your breathy whimpers filled the flat, paired with your own laboured breathing and low grunts from Simon. He had you sitting upright on the couch, your legs folded over his shoulders as he kneeled on the ground in front of you, his face between your legs. Simon's grip was tight on your thighs, gripping the flesh and holding your legs in place, which were now beginning to tremble. He grunted with each flat lick of his tongue up your wet folds, followed by another low-pitched noise when he shoved his tongue deep into your cunt, his nose nudging your puffy clit.

You had a handful of his dark blond hair, almost brown in the low light of the living room, fisting it tightly as you arched against the couch. Your eyes were closed, your mouth parted as more whimpers fell from your lips, including whines of Simon–! which made Simon moan against you. He was painfully fucking hard in his trousers.

John watched from the doorway for a moment, leaning his shoulder against it, listening to your sounds. After a moment, Simon pulled away from you for just a moment to utter "Look who's home, baby" before sliding his tongue back inside you.

John couldn't help but chuckle at the fact Simon knew he was there without even turning around.

Your eyes flew open, immediately finding John's. You sucked in a breath, trying to hold your whimpers at bay, long enough to greet him with watery eyes and a small pout.

"John." You keened, eyes immediately closing as Simon's pace picked up. You let out a loud moan that made John's cock twitch in his trousers as he crossed the room and sat beside you on the couch.

He leaned over to kiss you– smoothing his lips against yours before slipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss by grabbing hold of your jaw and angling your face closer to his. You moaned into his mouth, his other hand finding the back of your neck, pinning you in place so he could lick further into your mouth.

Below, Simon grunted into your core, muffled. John pulled out of the kiss, still holding your head, looking down to meet Simon's eyes.

"Got something to say?" John asked, cocking his head to the side. You whimpered in his hold, and Simon's eyes darted from John to you, and back and forth a couple times.

John knew Simon all too well. Each time you let out the smallest whimper, the breathiest whine, the longest moan, his cock would twitch, growing harder in his boxers. He loved the noises you made. So with John kissing you...

John smirked, slotting his mouth back against yours, his eyes still on Simon. You moaned into his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut. The noises were quiet now, just deep hums in the back of your throat. Simon's brows pinched as he glared at John. John winked at him.

Simon grunted against your cunt, his tongue moving in and out of you. Small dribbles of your slick slipped down his face, coating his chin as his efforts increased, pace quickening, nose pressing tighter against your little bundle of nerves. He could hear the way you were moaning into the kiss, and his eyes remained firmly on your face.

He knew you were close. Your thighs were slowly tightening around his head, and you were arching further off the couch. Your thighs quivered in his hold, the slick walls of your cunt pulling tighter around his tongue. He groaned into you, letting one hand run up your thigh and over your mound, cupping you there while this thumb pressed heavily against your clit. He rubbed fast circles and finally, finally, you broke the kiss– pulling away from John to moan, "S-Si, fuck, please– please, please–!"

Before John could pull you back into the kiss, you came around Simon's tongue. You moaned, long and drawn out, as Simon licked you through it, still thumbing your clit gently. The sound filled Simon's head, making him reciprocate his own moan, lips parted against the slick mess of your core. He continued swiping licks up your folds, around your leaking hole, until you were squirming against him, John placing kisses along your jaw.

Simon pulled away, kissing your thighs as he went. After placing one final kiss to your inner knee, he got to his feet, knees cracking as he pushed overtop of your body, shunting John out of the way so he could grasp your face and kiss you.

John let out a laugh. "S'that how it's going to be tonight, hm?"

Simon didn't respond. He simply cupped your face and pinned you back against the couch. His knee slotted between your legs as he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You tasted yourself when your tongues met, and you whimpered his name into his mouth.

When Simon– begrudgingly– ended the kiss, he flopped down on the other side of you. But he pulled you with him, grasping your hips and pulling you into his lap, your back against his chest. He immediately attached his mouth to the curve of your neck and shoulder.

John watched you and Simon for a moment. "Has he been treating you well, sweetheart?"

You nodded, Simon's arms now winding their way around your midriff, holding you to him. Your head lolled back to allow Simon more room, but your eyes remained on John.

"D'you have a good day?" You asked.

"Mhm," John replied simply. "I missed you, though."

"Missed you too." You mumbled, eyelids fluttering when Simon sucked harder, skimming his teeth against your sweat-slicked skin.

John cocked his head, watching your expressions for a moment. He smiled, content, before grabbing a half-smoked cigar from the ashtray at the end of the couch. He relit it, and the familiar sound of the lighter clinking had your eyes opening like some sort of Pavlovian response.

John inhaled and then exhaled, smoke curling out above his head. You watched him with glistening eyes, and he could see your focus drifted across the way his fingers held the cigar. His smile widened, and he lifted his free hand, beckoning you over to him with a curl of two fingers.

Straight away, you weaselled yourself free of Simon's hold. He frowned.

Of course, he let you go and you didn't actually force his hands away. If he wanted you to stay, his arm's wouldn't have even budged.

You crawled into Price's lap, smiling at him when his free hand rested hot and heavy against the bare expanse of your lower back.

"Hold this for me." He whispered, grabbing his cigar and handing it to you. You took it from him, a wisp of smoke fluttering across the skin of your cheek.

His other hand skimmed down the front of your body, over the dips of your breasts and tummy, until he reached your cunt. He groaned when he ran two fingers down your folds. You were so fucking wet. With ease, he slipped his fingers into your sopping cunt, straight to the knuckle. You hummed low in your throat, head tilting forward.

"Fuck, you're wet," John muttered, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. "S'this just from getting your pretty pussy eaten, hm? S'all this 'cause've Simon?"

You moaned. "Yes–!"

Behind you, Simon grunted, and was pulling his cock out of his trousers and fisting it slowly. His eyes watched the two of you closely, the head of his cock leaking pre-cum. What was left of your arousal on his fingers, he smeared it across the hard shaft of his cock, his other hand cupping his balls as you rocked yourself against John's fingers.

John chuckled lowly. "Naughty fucking girl, aren't you, sweetheart? Listen to how wet this cunt is." He pulled his fingers out and then thrusted them in roughly; the sound eliciting was a loud, wet squelch that made your tummy flutter. John hummed, appraising you with dark eyes. "So fucking wet, isn't she, Simon?"

Simon grunted, the movement of his hand speeding up. He jerked his cock, gripping tighter at the base, pausing only briefly to thumb at the reddened tip.

John grinned, then nodded at the cigar you were still holding. You got the hint, drowsily holding it out for him to take into his mouth. He inhaled deeply, and you pulled it away when the hand on the small of your back danced upwards. He cupped your neck and pulled you down to kiss him. He exhaled the smoke into your mouth and you whimpered as you felt it sting the back of your nose and throat.

The kiss was wet, messy, and tasted of smoke. His tongue was relentless against yours, saliva pushed from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin as he forced more and more whimpers from you. He continued to fuck you with his fingers, adding an abrupt third while he sucked on your tongue, before pushing his tongue back into your mouth with a grunt. The smoke was bitter in your mouth, his saliva tasting of it, but it made you moan out anyway– a sound that had Simon dropping a whispered "oh, fuck" behind you.

The heel of John's hand pressed hard against your swollen clit, causing your entire lower body to shudder. The sensation of three of his big fingers inside you was enough to have the pleasure in your lower stomach rise. The roughness of the digits inside you, thrusting against your warm, slick walls and that spongey spot inside you, had your head spinning.

"John, m'gonna– please can I come?" You mewled out, almost dropping John's cigar as your fingers began to tremble.

"You wanna come?" John whispered. "You wanna come? And you're asking your captain for permission? What a good fucking girl you are, sweetheart."

You always loved it when both your boyfriends brought their ranks home. Maybe it was because you were a civilian, but it always had you feeling some type of way.

You mewled again, high-pitched at his words. Behind you, you could hear Simon grunting and groaning, and the wet fap fap fap's of him stroking his cock. You wished you could see it. He always looked so pretty when he jerked off. Such a pretty boy.

"Come 'round your captain's fingers, then. Go on," John said, fingers nailing that spot inside you each time. "And kiss me while you come."

You did– when your orgasm crashed over you, you crashed your mouth onto John's. You shook against him, cunt squeezing his fingers tightly and thighs shaking against his lap. You whined his name into his mouth as, once again, his tongue found yours, pushing more of the acrid taste of smoke into your mouth. His free hand left the back of your head and he plucked the cigar from your hand when he pulled away from the kiss. He placed it back into the ashtray, his other hand leaving the wet heat of your cunt. He grabbed hold of your hip and began grinding you down against the bulge in his trousers. You blew out a long, whiney breath.

Behind you, Simon's orgasm was approaching. Tired and bordering overstimulated, you managed to turn your body to watch Simon as John slowly rocked you against his lap. You whimpered out "you're so pretty, Si" when you finally got a good look at the way he was fucking his fist, his hair dishevelled, lower face still shining with your slick. His cock twitched in his hand at your words, and he moaned your name. Your clit began to throb with need.

"Christ," Simon hissed. "Can– fuck– can I come on your tummy, baby?"

"Please." You whined, butterflies filling your stomach.

John helped you twist in his lap until your back was against his chest. Simon got off the couch and approached, still pumping his cock with his lower lip snagged between his teeth. He grunted with each movement of his hand.

Meanwhile, John weaved his arms around you, large palms cupping your tits as he leaned back further against the couch, exposing more of your midriff to Si. He squeezed your tits, rolling your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefingers, his smoky breath brushing over your shoulder. He nosed at the pulse behind your ear, eyes watching Simon as more pre-cum leaked from the blond's cock.

"Beg for Si, sweetheart," John whispered in your ear, loud enough for Simon to hear. When you whined, John tutted in your ear, rolling your nipples harder between his fingers. "Use your words."

You gasped out. "Fuck– please, Si. Want your– oh, fuck– want your cum, please."

Simon's mouth dropped open, a guttural groan following as he jerked his cock once, twice more, before pushing his hips towards you. He came in hot spurts, covering the soft shape of your tummy in stripes of milky white. He grunted out your name, fisting his semi-hard cock with cum-covered knuckles.

"Fucking hell..." Si breathed, standing over you and John still. John let go of you, running his hands down your body soothingly.

He looked up at Si, who was now ripping his shirt over his head and pulling his trousers and boxers all the way off. John was the only one still completely dressed.

"You want her first?" John asked, rubbing your thighs. You leaned back into him, humming contentedly, eyes closed.

Simon cocked his head. "You don't–?"

"I'll watch first," John said with a smile. "Besides, I've got a cigar to finish."

The real reason John loved watching was, well, exactly that. He always loved watching how you reacted to Si– how you reacted to his touch, his mouth on your skin, his praise. He also loved the way Simon bullied his fat cock into the tight heat of your cunt. John's eyes almost closed in pleasure at the thought.

Simon offered John a grateful smile, before he was gently guiding you off of your other boyfriend's lap. He gathered you in his arms, hugging you for a moment. You squirmed slightly; his seed being smushed between the two of you.

"How do you want me, baby?" He asked you as John grabbed his cigar, situating himself more comfortably at the end of the couch, beginning to unzip his straining trousers.

"Want you on top of me..." You whispered, carefully prying yourself from Si's grasp and flopping onto the plush rug beneath you. You spread yourself out on the rug, sighing through our nose, your body on perfect display.

Simon was hard again. "On the floor?"

"Mhm..." You smiled at him, and you heard John chuckle in the background. You looked over at John. "So the captain get's a good view."

John cracked a smile. "Yeah? You want to get fucked on the rug like a good little whore, hm?" He had pulled out his cock by this stage, pumping himself slowly. Like Si, he was big, the tip reddened and leaking dribbles of pre-cum.

You smiled, biting your lower lip.

Simon settled onto the soft rug between your legs, large hands massaging your knees before grabbing the backs of them and pulling you closer to him. You couldn't help but giggle as you were yanked down the rug, but the giggle dissipated to a stretched out moan as you felt the solid warmth of his cock against your inner thigh.

He grasped his cock at the base, running the ruddy tip up and down your soaked folds. He hummed in pleasure, smearing more of your arousal against the curve of your arse and your inner thighs. The sensation made you shiver, and he squeezed your thigh in comfort.

"S'alright, baby, I'm here," Simon cooed, circling the wet tip of his cock around your swollen clit. "I'm right here..." He mumbled, dragging the tip through your folds until he reached your leaking hole, pressing against it gently.

Your back arched off the rug, your entire body heating up. The one hand he had on your thigh felt like it was burning you, searing into your skin. You whimpered out for him– Simon, Simon, Simon– hands scrambling for purchase, grabbing at the soft rug.

"I know, my girl, I know, 'm gonna give you what you want," he told you, circling the head of his cock over your cunt. More arousal leaked from you, meaning more arousal smearing onto his cock. He stuttered around a groan. "Such a p-pretty pussy, baby. So wet. And such a good girl, too. Been such a good girl for me and John."

John groaned from the couch, muffled around the shape of his cigar. He had stopped stroking himself, and was gripping his cock, hand resting near the patch of dark hair at the base. A hazy cloud of smoke hung in the air above him, and you could smell it– smell smoke, John, Simon, sweat and sex. You took a deep breath.

"Here you go, darling, take what you need," Simon whispered, leaning over your body to place a delicate kiss to your lips as he slid his cock inside you. His pace was deep and slow, dragging against your gummy walls and dragging embarrassingly loud noises from your mouth. Simon groaned too, the feel of your wet heat around him almost too much. When he bottomed out, he mouthed at the crook of your neck. "I love you."

Tears were in your eyes now. He was just so big. But he was so, so soft with you. Gentle.

"I love you too, Si," you said, kissing his cheek. You then looked over at John. "I love you too, captain."

John bit back a moan. Captain. Cheeky girl.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the rug.

"Si." You moaned, arms moving around his shoulders until the tips of your nails were scraping across the muscular planes of his back.

The head of his cock filled you deep, knocking up against the base of your cervix. The sounds were wet and lewd, paired with your moans and Simon's hushed grunts. John watched and listened, his cock twitching against his stomach as he pumped himself, his cigar resting between his lips.

"You feel so good, baby, fuck. Such a good fucking pussy," Simon grunted into your neck, before he lifted himself back up to look into your eyes. He ground his hips against yours, his cock bullying up against the plug of your womb, stretching you open. You mewled, high-pitched and desperate, scratching at his back. He smiled, strands of damp blond hair falling over his forehead. "That's it, baby, mark me up."

No doubt his back would be striped with red lines by the time he was done with you.

Your body was burning hot against the rug, sweat building at the base of your spine as that familiar knot in your stomach began to grow tighter– pulling and pulling as Simon fucked you.

He had both hands on your hips now, pulling your body to meet his with each of his timed thrusts. On the couch, John had to slow the movement of his hand so he didn't come too soon.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked you, taking the cigar out of his mouth for a minute. "Is Simon making you feel good?"

"Yes..." You whined, overwhelmed. You felt so good.

John repressed a groan at the whine in your voice. "Then tell him. Tell him how good his cock feels inside your tight cunt."

Simon closed his eyes. "Christ, cap–"

You moaned, then moved one hand away from Si's back, to his head. You grasped a fistful of his hair and tugged gently, forcing your boyfriend's eyes to open and a strained moan to fall from his mouth. You kissed him, then uttered against his lips, "You're making me feel so good, Si. I l-love your cock– oh my god–!"

Si had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Yeah? You love this cock. baby?" Si mused, a noticeable quirk in the corners of his mouth. "Well, it's all yours, isn't it? S'your cock, jus' like this is our perfect– fuckin'– pussy."

Si punctuated the last three words with heavy thrusts, making you cry out. His words were slurring as his orgasm neared, sweat dripping down his abs.

Our.

That made John groan and come all over his hand and stomach. He moaned your name, head flopping back against the couch, the remnants of his cigar already in the ashtray. The moan of your name was followed by a "Jesus Christ, Simon."

"John–" You moaned, wriggling against the rug. You were so close, and as Simon maintained his deep, heavy thrusts, it wasn't long before your cunt was beginning to squeeze him tighter, your legs shaking around him.

"Please, Si," you gasped. "Please, please–! M'gonna, oh my god, m'gonna come– please don't stop."

Simon grunted above you, his fingers still working against your clit, his cock still rutting into you deeply.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers, and in your blissed out state, you vaguely noticed the shapes he was drawing across your clit.

S... I... M... O...

That cheeky son of a bitch.

N...

You sobbed out, your orgasm finally settling and your body going lax against the rug. Simon moved his fingers away from your clit, and used both hands to grab each of your knees. He bent your legs, pushing them up against the rest of your body, folding you in half so he could split you deeper on his cock.

You wanted to scream. He was hitting so deep. You were so fucking full.

"Good girl..." You heard John mutter behind you. That made your stomach flip.

Simon was close. He was huffing, grunting. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated so much his eyes almost looked black. His gaze never left your face as he pounded into you, his cock sliding against your slick walls, drawing dribbles of your arousal out of you with each thrust.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Please–!" You sobbed.

"I will, pretty girl, I will. Want you to take it all... take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you– get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby. We'd look after you."

You were almost crying now.

"M'comin', baby," Simon all but growled above you. "Take it all. Take it, take it, take it–"

He came, moaning around your name. He came a lot, too– liquid warmth flooding your insides, leaking out around the shape of his cock, punching a moan from his lungs. You shook beneath him, trickles of his cum dripping down the soft flesh of your arse.

He didn't pull out. He simply moved to the side and kept you hugged against him, lying against the rug with you. He looked up at John, who was still sitting on the couch, half-dried cum splattered across his shirt.

Simon smiled. "Join our girl and I on the rug, cap?"

John smiled in return. "No time for rest, Simon. It's my turn."

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ended it here cause i'm lazy but i hope you enjoyed x

#ohhhhHhhh MY GAWWD #listen. i’m a little indiff abt anyone besides simon #but this was so fucking hot #HOLY SHIT??? #pacing around my house rn tryin to BREATHE #hate’s recs

[ghostskiss]

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.”

#reblogging for the mornin

[ghostskiss]

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.”

#IN HONOR OF COD MWIII #A NEW PIECE #this is totally *not* a self insert...no...i definitely did not have an experience similar to the Reader and now have an aversion to oral #LISTEN. SIMON MF GHOST RILEY WOULD EAT THE PUNNANY LIKE BREAKFAST LUNCH DINNA DESSERT #THE SIDE DISHES #ETC. #AND HE WOULD LIIIIIKE IT. IN FACT HE'D LOVE IT. YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO PULL HIM AWAY #and he'd be PHENOMENAL AT IT DON'T @ ME!!!!! #you can @ me. i'll gladly argue my point #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mwiii

[ghostskiss]

Are you writing anything new? Love your stuff

something may or may not be in works <3

#ask #what would you guys like to read? #open to ideas

[ghostskiss]

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.”

#this took. for.ever. #there's a reason why my user name on other platforms is hatespit #because it is so hot. #sorry not sorry #enjoy!!! ily guys so much seriously! #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader

[ghostskiss]

i finally had *the* fanfic writer experience. ykno those crazy notes at the end of ao3 where the author was gone and they have an elaborate horrible story?

i got hit by car 💀💀✋✋

[ghostskiss]

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.

Shakenly, 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 you’re 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 as you come back down to your body, and 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 hips 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 less that someone is right outside 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 now. 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 sounds 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.”

#guys. i'm sorry for my absence #i had to get out of this man's chokehold i'm not kidding #and then you know what happened? #THIS came to me in a dream #A DREAM #CALLING SIMON “GHOST” BECAUSE HE'S FCKIN HAUNTING ME!!!! #hope you enjoyed kiss kiss love love #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

[ghostskiss]

heyyyy guys gals ghouls,

sorry for the MIA. i've got a treat for you probably end of this week <3

#simon ghost riley #it's going to be.......sub.....switchy.... #it came to me in a dream and it is rotting my brain

[ghostskiss]

two goldfish are in a tank

[ghostskiss]

Bravo 0-7

[ghostskiss]

#oh…em….gee…. #OMG

[ghostskiss]

Any König hcs? Relationship based? How he reacts with different forms of upset???

Okay so first, I wrote 'base' headcanons for him here and here! And here are a few relationship headcanons for König:

You figure, given his character, the ideal date for him is going on a hike or somewhere very calm/remote. Yes, he's able to go out and eat in a restaurant or go to a coffee shop of course, he is a functional human being, but he doesn't like it. Also he loves nature, he's an outdoors guy. So, quality time will most likely always be spent outside, and far from any city, thank you very much.

He wants to do so well for his partner. König overthinks everything, whether it is the flirting part, arguments, even gifts or displays of affection. It's not easy at times, and will demand adjustements and a lot of communication, more than average; but he's very very attentionate in return.

König gets jealous, but not the possessive kind, the "I have bad self-esteem" kind. It's sometimes so intense it can appear egoistical (comes in a bundle with bad self-esteem - for real). He'll assume people will lose interest in him, and the more he cares about someone, the worse it is.

He's not overbearing and, despite his anxieties, not clingy. His trust allows for time apart. But he needs someone who will reciprocate his affection (which is quality!), that is for sure. He's extremely devoted and it needs to go both ways.

(since technically this is still a headcanon: I ship him with one of the Kortac guys lol)

More under the cut regarding the last part of your ask:

For the ways König reacts when he's upset:

His impulse control isn't well balanced. He's cold-headed on some things, but snaps really fast about others.

Pushing him over his boundaries will either get him to close off completely or get upset. When he's upset, he's angry. When he's really angry, he breaks things. It's really hard to get to that point though.

Socially, if he's drained and someone is pressing him, he'll just go 🧍‍♂️, will stop talking, avoid eye contact, dismiss conversations. He can get rude lol.

If he's angry at something (like, genuinely pissed at someone or something) he is going to swear A LOT. Also he raises his voice easily.

#he’s literally me #hate’s recs #konig

[ghostskiss]

Angel of Small Death (+18)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader smut

Full smutty version found on my Ao3 here. Rest of the parts/masterlist here. Word count: 21,829. Ikr???? On Ao3, not here.

Warning: It's a lot of time jumps back and forth, implied attempt at self-harm (more like an assumption), mentions of self-harm scars. Slight obsession, possibly possessive Ghost, jealousy. Body appreciation, violence, blood/gore/death. Smut, oral (receiving), finger penetration, biting, yknow. Smut. The good stuff. Slightly sub!Ghost, Switch!Ghost. Mating press if you squint. Slapping, overstimulation. unprotected sex.

Summary: As a man who was incredibly observant, Ghost couldn’t understand you. He really couldn’t. He didn't understand who you are or where you came from, he couldn't understand how you made him feel for so long. With your words and actions, Ghost was finally starting to put the pieces together, and he wasn't too sure if he liked it.

Hearing the piercing fire of the bullet puncturing the air towards the intended target was almost music to his ears.

The sight of bursting glass followed by a crazed uproar of guards around the supposedly well-protected home was similar to a colony of frantic ants when their mound gets trampled over, hellbent on protecting their now deceased leader.

"Target eliminated." Came your voice from his radio, sounding confident and firm with a major hint of relief hanging off the edge of your tone.

You quickly shifted back and flattened your body against the surface of the roof, avoiding the short series of bullets that punctured the edge of the building where some had speculated the rifle shot came from.

Ghost watched from his own personal vantage point, standing by as his team finally arrived and gotten into position. From watching each shot look messy and uncoordinated, it seemed like they weren’t sure what they were shooting at.

With this distraction, the rest of his team could fully engage and catch them even more off guard than anyone intended. It was a clean house operation after all.

“Mirage, what’s your status?”

"Still solid, spotted four snipers on the roof and possibly counting. Watch yourselves down there." You sounded out of breath, quite excited for what occurred rather than afraid, your body running on mind meddling adrenaline after that single, highly important kill.

Ghost then gave the call for his team to commence ahead, ordering to leave no man alive. Before taking off to lead, he quickly brought his hand back over to his radio.

“Compose yourself, Mirage. There’s still a lot of work to do.”

“Copy that. Make every bullet count, Lieutenant."

You held your breath as you assumed your proper position prior, exhaling after firing another shot towards one of the most exposed snipers you laid your sight on, watching the sniper stagger back from the sharp impact before slumping over out of sight.

There’s one.

Peering over towards the far right, you shot another sniper who was mere moments away from taking out one of your team from an opened two-story window. Two.

Three. Directly from a gunman who was dumb enough to take vantage point from the exact window.

You found the fourth sniper battling another one of your soldiers, A Private, who kept him bound with his rifle over his chest, held hostage and choking him out with his own weapon. You hesitated to take the shot, risking the potential death of your comrade. So, you watched and waited, keeping them both in your line of sight long enough to watch the sight of his body slowly slumping over, falling dead at the Private's feet.

Four.

Storming the house was easy, despite its grand size. Bursting through the door of the room the target was in, Ghost's quick reflexes allowed him to quickly kill one of the last remaining enemies, a man carrying a sniper rifle of his own, barely moments away from aiming out the same window his leader stood by before he was assassinated.

The target’s body was found slumped over his bed, a single shot through his head an inch and a half over his ear, a deep hole clean through and through, bits of skull and brain matter splattered against the bed.

The exact side where you were scarred, if fate wasn't more obvious.

An ironic, bloody beautiful kill.

“We’re done here. Call for evac.” Ghost instructed after receiving the official all clear that the house had been thoroughly swept through.

Getting on the roof was easy, climbing down was always just a tad bit harder. You had some sort of talent for climbing up large buildings under the right conditions, despite the obvious danger that your grip or footing could always betray you, despite the additional support of your harness.

Releasing hold of the rope once you hit solid ground, you brushed the dust off your gloves and the front of your knees, feeling that very wave of contentment still rattling delightfully throughout your body.

You couldn't remember the last time you smiled this big for so long, your heart almost beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

Maybe this is what those revenge driven assassins felt like in those movies when they’ve successfully killed their target; a satisfaction almost indescribable, the blood inducing rush more potent than any drug, an immense relief buried deep in your body finally being released.

All of it left you feeling tingly, excited, elated; like you could take on the entire world, like nothing could ever stop you.

A series of crackling snaps of rolling pebbles and crunching grass under his feet forced your head to turn, spotting the ever so tall British man approaching you. His black attire almost blended perfectly with the night, his stark eggshell mask casting a blank, uneasy appearance growing closer towards you due to the ambience.

For a long while, you would jump at the slightest noises behind you, an unpleasant side effect of your trauma.

Being a naturally quiet man, he had to amplify the sound of him approaching you; the slightest change in his step, the drag of his soles against dirt and rocks, the brush of branches from his shoulders, training your mind to know it was him.

You didn’t like it at first, but after a while, it helped. You were still learning however, those brash instincts you unwillingly developed would still need time to settle down.

“You missed one.” He grunted, treading closer towards you. “There was a fifth sniper. Need to work on your peripherals better, should’ve been taught that from the start.”

“Noted. I’ll work on it better sir.” Focusing your attention to your ropes, you proceeded to undo the clips that kept your harness secured, wondering if he managed to hear your frantically beating heart from where he stood.

Sir. You’ve called him that a lot more lately.

“Feel better?” Ghost continued his approach from behind you, watching your eyes crinkle from your genuinely hidden smile as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Much.“

“Relieved?”

“Very.”

“Good.” Ghost nodded once. “Let’s hope you don’t deal with that again, yeah?”

You nodded to his words while pulling off your hood and tugging your mask down, taking in the refreshing air while wiping away the sweat from around your nose with your sleeve, your head turned towards the direction of the house.

Every time Ghost caught a clear look at your scar, he was reminded of sitting through the hours of video footage from your rescue. He’s seen more graphic things to consider himself uneasy about it, but he couldn’t help but been unable to look away through all of it.

Having to sit through every minute of it with Price in the privacy of his office was deeply unsettling. Even the Captain himself struggled to get through the more graphic moments, your wails and screams filling out the entire office from the first punch to the cigar burns, to the last few moments you thought you’d live when the knife was being held over your face.

Ghost remembered keeping stoic in his seat, eyes glued to the screen, his hands tightly clutched together in his lap. Price at moments left his chair, turning his head away while swallowing heavily, his jaw tensed so hard it almost caused a strain in his muscles. You were a part of his team, witnessing the hours he failed to protect you was almost heart wrenching as the reality he had to bluntly face thinking you were going to die.

Every minute of it was oddly nostalgic to Ghost, hitting him deep in the very core of every bone in his body. His hands kept tensely balling together, forcing himself to sit through your screams once the embers of the cigar made contact with your blood dampened cheek, rich curls of smoke spewing from the sight. Hearing all the men cackling as the stench of your skin flooded their senses was just enough to deliver tense chills down his arms.

They even went as far as to relight the cigar when it went out, leaving the roaring flames on the end to settle back against your cheekbone, hearing your screeches almost grow too high for the camera’s audio to capture it properly as you struggled to lean your head away, your arms thrashing against your tape restraints to no avail.

You were brave. Very, very brave, and incredibly lucky they didn't do worse.

For a man like him, he wasn't too sure if he wanted to sit through any of the unthinkable.

You looked back at him, making eye contact after noticing how long he stared at you from the corner of your vision, the awkward silence drawing out a little too long for your liking. Talk about peripherals.

“Feel like you got a weight of your shoulders?” He then asked to fill the air.

“Oh yeah.” You nodded slowly. “I'd have been a little happier if I tortured him myself, but this is fine. This is great.”

You’ve never felt more relieved. With the leader dead, you felt like you’d recover a whole lot easier knowing he wasn’t stalking around God knows where, thinking he got away with what he’s done not only to you, but towards other unknown victims.

In a sense, you also brought justice to the souls who never got theirs. It was a content satisfaction that you'd never forget.

Ghost continued glaring down at you silently, watching you blink while wondering what else to say to him.

“So... you came all this way to just critique my skills? Is that all?”

“Perhaps.”

“No praise? No good job?”

“Don’t need to hear it from me.”

You huffed, adjusting your grip on your rifle before proceeding to walk towards the direction he came from to rejoin the team.

“Alright. Whatever you say, Simon.”

“Oh no no,” He grabbed hold of your arm as you walked past him, forcing you to stop in your step. “You’re not callin’ me by name. Not out here.”

“Why?” You turned to face him once more, brows slightly furrowing in confusion.

“You gonna do something about it, Lieutenant?” Your tongue lightly accentuated the letter at the end, hinting at a miniature spark of mischief that bloomed in your chest.

He took a step closer, his aura flooding your senses as he glared you down, feeling his natural intimidation seep through your clothes and skin, slightly exciting you further.

“You have half a mind to attempt to rile me up out here, kid.”

“Rile you up? I’m just doing my job, sir.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why?”

“You’ll regret it.”

“Try me.” You persist little puppy.

Slowly, he exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing with unadulterated emotions running through his mind. You were right here in front of him, yet both of you were in plain sight. Visible to anyone and everyone, friend or living foe.

The night was on his side, the new moon turning her head on this forbidden encounter between Sergeant and Lieutenant.

Curiosity was a dangerous sensation; a match hanging by a thin string over kerosene, waiting to be struck, awaiting the brain to send signals to inflict such semi-thought through actions.

If he wanted to, he could take you here like this, bringing you down on your knees, or push you up against the wall of the building you came from, caging you in with his body. From how far the battle was fought, its less likely anyone could hear you scream when he’s deep inside you, his knuckles plastered on your tongue to keep you choking on your own brash words.

“Bravo 7-0, we’re waiting on you and 7-2.” Both your radios sliced through the weak vines keeping the tension that barely started to grow.

Of course, duty waits for no one.

“Get to evac, Sergeant.” Ghost chose to say instead of a million other words while releasing your arm, all while watching that spark of hungry playfulness diminish in your eyes. You couldn’t help but frown a little, exhaling before proceeding to take off once more.

Sprinting away from him, Ghost’s eyes couldn’t help but linger along your body, the natural sway of your hips attracting his attention. Your black uniform clung to you in the most perfect ways, your hoodie doing little to hide every curve he was sure he left bruises on. Your black pants hugged your supple legs, your harnesses clinging perfectly to your thighs.

A part of him wondered if you picked out this outfit on purpose, despite the obvious reason that you didn't want to be seen at night. Maybe you knew he was watching you like a hawk.

It would be cruel to admit that Ghost only physically desired you once before, despite that being somewhat of a blatant lie. You were attractive, cunning, and a great shot. Even for a rookie, the first time he met you, you followed orders to the letter, spoke when spoken to, and did it without attitude. Somehow that earned a little more than his respect.

Simon has had sex before you, albeit rarely. He wasn’t the type of man to actively seek it out, especially with the type of women he’s come across in his past.

Sex to him was only a means of letting out pent-up frustration and stress, forcing his body to relax as the chemicals did the work for him, submitting him to do what he couldn’t get himself to automatically.

You must’ve been on the same boat to submit to him so easily, finding him so attractive despite everything about him being shielded and tied up with brute, blunt behavior, discouraging anyone and everyone for good reason. However, he was a man, and you were a woman, and despite the rules, things just happen.

A mental break, he would call it for a while. Stress relief, at least. Why it happened besides that, he still wasn’t quite sure, though he didn’t regret it, and he was positive you didn’t either.

He didn’t see himself the type to break the rules all for the sake of a good lay, despite how ethereal you looked above him, and especially under him on those bland white bedsheets.

Despite it all, Ghost didn’t want any ties. Things would be less complicated that way. However, he could read your expression easily, even if it was just your eyes, he could tell everything.

You’ve most likely thought of him more than beyond sexual pleasures late at night.

If it continued on, it would lead towards more than just an animalistic attraction. After such attraction, who knows, a tighter bond would be created. The recoil would strike much harder if that band snapped from a knife or a cleverly fired gunshot. He didn’t want to risk it for both your sakes, he’s your goddamn superior after all.

Ghost didn’t like to admit that he was a victim to overthinking after that night, concerned over creating such a bond that went further than strict military standards. You two were work partners, companions, he wanted to keep it that way.

Maybe less than that.

To him, there was no such thing as platonic relationships between a man and a woman.

Maybe you weren’t just interested in a one-night stand with him, maybe you wanted something more.

A whole lot more.

~~~~~

For their wonderfulideas and support!

@redpool @cheetobandido @nativeomega369 @dothrckis @ayyofish @toocoldoutsideforyou @delciaq @1-monstera-1 @cass-the-mess @21stcenturywitchcraft

#oh.oh. #OH MY GOD #im going to literally fucking sob #hate’s recs

[ghostskiss]

i just wanted to say that i love ur writing so so much and yea thats it basically

thank you so much love<33

#ask #kisses u on the cheek

[ghostskiss]

Here. Have kudos on that fanfic you wrote in your head while you were in the shower and never typed it out. When I recover from the brilliance of it, I’ll come back to leave a review.

[ghostskiss]

Me: I could take him

Soap: in a fight right?

Me:

Soap: right???

#this picture. this art. #that is ghost. thats him

[ghostskiss]

i can’t get over how HUGE this man is

#he’s so beefy i love him #i want to bite him