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nitewingbabi · 1 year ago

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↳ a pretty mouth ⚤ ghostface x female!reader 【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 warnings ⇢ drinking, sexting, knife play, fingering, oral (m receiving), swearing, orgasm denial, pinning, mentions of blood/killing, degrading, ✉ taking requests first part ▻ please respond…i showed you my cock

It had been days since any kind of attack or sign of ghostface. You almost believed he had disappeared, but it was still in the back of your mind. You never responded to his messages that he sent, and he never came to see you. Not that you really wanted him too.

He was psycho. But there was something about his voice and not knowing who was behind that mask that just made your stomach flip the right way round.

You had multiple missed phone calls from a private or blocked number. You had the upper hand for once.

➤ you can’t ignore me ➤ i’m not going to stop ➤ you can try to shut me out, but i’ll find a way to get back in ➤ and when I do, i’m going to bury myself in that sweet pussy

His texts turned you on the more he sent them. All laced with dirty things you tried not to enjoy.

Clearly you needed to give him something to make him chase you harder. Your parents would start to get suspicious of the large water bills coming through, and the last thing you wanted to give up was your shower head time every night. You felt possessed almost, turning yourself on as you dreamt of him climbing through your window of the night, holding a knife to your throat as he fucked you in ways you haven’t experienced before.

Your legs began to rub to get friction, you needed to stop putting these thoughts in your head. He was a serial killer. The last thing you needed was to be fucking the town’s killer who had threatened your life countless times as well.

When you finished school you went over to your friend’s house to get ready for a party that was happening over the weekend. All day you had multiple messages from him. Nothing new, that was until.

🟪 Gfce23 sent you a snap

The purple box told you everything you needed to know. It was video, with audio. You excused yourself from her room, heading into the bathroom. Opening the video it was once again his cock in his gloved hand, his body more in view this time for you to get a better look. Eyeing over his pale skin.

“Ughnf—this is all for you.” Your clit throbbed at the sudden moaning that came from your phone. Walls tightening at his words. ‘This is all for you’. You licked your lips at the sight of the red tipped cock on your screen that thrusted into his leather glove.

“F-f-fuck y/n.” Hearing him say your name mixed with a whimper as he pumped himself, stomach flexing every time he gasped and his movements picked up just a little more. You found yourself with your fingers dancing between your legs again, toying with yourself. The video ended there. No big finish for you. Your flustered state calmed down when you returned to reality and remembered where you were.

“Jesus, fuck!” You hissed, running fingers through your hair as you tried to finish getting ready. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help lusting after him. Evening came finally and it was time to get drunk and enjoy your weekend. No school, no studying, no homework. Just alcohol and boys. Walking into the house it was already crazy, everyone dancing and rubbing themselves up against each other.

A few mindless games of spin the bottle, truth or dare, and many more kids games. You found the keg, pouring yourself a drink before feeling a tap on your shoulder. It was the same guy whose been chasing after you since the first grade.

“Hey y/n, long time no see. Feel like we never talk anymore babe.” You cringed at the pet name he gave you. You liked princess better anyway.

“That’s because we aren’t even friends, I don’t talk to people who aren’t my friends.” You snipped back, walking away from the over-confident jock that didn’t want to take no for an answer it seemed. You swung your head back and downed the drink in the red solo cup.

“Look, y/n. Just give me one chance and if you aren’t into it then I’ll leave you alone.” He chased you. But not in a ‘I’m gonna kill you’ way that you for some reason missed. You felt bad that you never did give him the time of day, and the alcohol was already going to your head. So what was one dance? You allowed him to grab your hand and take you to where everyone else was dancing, rolling your hips against him and allowing yourself to just relax.

It was hard too when you were so sexually frustrated, after what felt like forever of dancing you found your friend. Letting her know you were leaving and going home, she was too busy dancing with a group of guys to care. You thought about walking home but chose to Uber instead.

It was just up the road but in your tipsy state, in a short skirt and with a killer on the loose? What could go wrong?

Your parents were once again gone for the night, using the time away to connect and get their marriage back on track. You didn’t turn on the lights, leaving the house dark and making your way upstairs to your room. Opening the door you didn’t know what you were expecting, but seeing it dark and just as you left it was disappointing. You walked over to your vanity, turning on the lamp and eyes looking into the reflective surface.

Your eyes shot open and you sobered up at the sight of a white mask and dark cloak leaning against your clothing dresser. Your heart began to race and you stood up, turning around to face the masked figure who had been on your mind day and night.

“Surprise princess.” His familiar voice had you buckling at the knees. You wanted to drop to them and suck the one thing he had been teasing you with the last few times you spoke.

“Get on the bed. Now.” A sharp piercing feeling was against your leg, looking down you saw the knife he held in his hand against the flesh of your exposed thigh. Hard enough to indent your skin but not to actually pierce you.

You nodded as you walked backwards, sitting on the soft surface and using your elbows to keep you elevated. Eyes looking into the dark black mesh that hid your mystery killer’s eyes.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you dancing tonight princess. Open your legs.” You did as you were told and audibly gulped. You never saw ghost face at the party, you wondered where he could have been for him to be able to watch you in such a crowded house. Your thigh was met with a cold, metal against it. His knife slowly dragging up from your knee all the way to the crease where your pubic region met your leg.

He looked down between your legs, eyeing off the cute short skirt and red panties you had on. The same ones he loved seeing you in when you first tried them on. He let out a low groan before swiftly flicking his wrist so his knife teared at the delicate lace.

$60, down the drain. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him against you, touching, rubbing, sucking. Your breath hitched as he lowered himself, the mattress dipping on each side of you as he positioned himself between your legs and removed the lacy garment blocking his view. He tilted his head to the side, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he saw your creamy hole gaping. How he wanted to fill it. His leather covered fingers reached out and began to rub at your wet folds, moving the creamy arousal over your clit and labia. Teasing your core with soft, slow touched. You gasped as he dipped a finger into your cunt, a thick ring of cream engulfing his finger as he entered you.

He began pumping, curling his finger each time to graze against your sensitive walls. You began letting out soft mewls at the sensations in the pit of your stomach. A sensation you had only been able to get from a shower head and your own touch. Without warning, he added another two fingers, thrusting harder and quicker now and watching your hips bucking to meet his every movement.

“Look at you, this pink pussy is aching to be touched. I’ve barely started and you’re almost unravelling under my fingers. How many can you take before I have you begging for more?” He hissed as he added his thumb to your clit, watching you let out a squealed whimper and jerk your body under his touch. He chuckled darkly at your reactions, watching your fingers grab at the blanket comforter underneath you.

Your orgasm was building quickly and you wanted to let go. But ghostface, had other plans for you. Before you could even mutter a ‘I’m gonna cum’ he removed himself completely. Hearing you almost cry from pain at the loss of pleasure.

“Oh no, you don’t get to cum yet princess.” You let out a whine at his words, squirming under his arms. He grabbed your wrists, pinning you to the bed and grinding his cock against your core. It was hard and only made you beg for more.

“I want to hear you say you would’ve been honoured to have been killed by me. That it makes you wet and turned on that I could kill you right here, right now. And no one could stop me.” Excitement mixed with panic filled your stomach as you thought about how he would react if you didn’t say it.

“It turns me on, that I’m so helpless and weak, that you could kill me right now and no one would help me…or stop you.” You had to admit to yourself sheepishly, that it was erotic.

“Such a pretty princess, with a pretty pussy. And a pretty mouth. I think we should see how good it feels.” He pulled you to the floor with a loud thud, your wrists hurting from being held in place for so long. He undid the black cloak, the velcro ripping and revealing black jeans. His member pushing against the rough material just dying to get out.

You decided to unbutton his jeans and pull his dick out. It was just as you remembered, pink, swollen and veiny. His tip ached to be touched, a drip of precum oozing out his slit and and running towards the edge of his head. Your eyes met his mask, his hand came to your head and pushed his member past your lip and into the warm embrace of your mouth.

He moaned loudly for the first time, and it made you ache all over again. He thrusted his hips, fucking your throat feverishly and throwing his head back in pleasure. Muttering all kinds of vulgar words under his breath at the sensation he had been chasing since the first time he saw you. You gagged and coughed at the sharpness and uncomfortable feeling of him hitting the back of your throat.

Spittle running down the corners of your lips and chin as he relentlessly unleashed his strength onto you.

“Fucking take it princess, don’t forget how many people had to die for me to feel your pretty lips around my cock. Take it all. Fucking cock-slut.” His degrading words only sparked you to work his member harder, bobbing your heads in rhythm with him now and swirling your tongue around your mouth in no rhythm at all. He didn’t chase his orgasm, your pussy was his endgame.

“On the bed and get on your hands and knees.” He growled, annoyed at himself for not reaching his own high.

“What should I call you?” You asked innocently, big eyes batting at him as you stood to your feet and moved back onto the soft, plush mattress.

“Call me your master.” You moved onto your hands and knees, feels his gloved hands curl around your ankles and pull your legs further apart, in response you also arched your back even more.

“This is gonna be fun.”

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crimsonvictory · 6 months ago

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The Bet

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.2k

Tags: Simon Riley x Reader, Ghost x Reader

Warnings: mature, p-in-v sex, sexual tension, overstimulation

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It had all started with a bet. A stupid bet fueled by the desire to slice the Achilles' of one another. The rules were simple. First to make contact loses the bet. Easy enough, right?

The first few days were no problem for you. Thinking of him was the least of your worries – at least, until you were alone with your own thoughts. The constant spiral of want pooling your thoughts and your panties. There were no rules on touching yourself, though. You spend the next twenty minutes getting your body to its well-known peak, almost over the precipice when there’s a heavy succession of pounding on your barracks door. Throwing your head back in exasperation, you adjust your sweatpants back around your hips before getting up and opening the door, glaring up at the very tall shadow blocking the hallway light.

“You forget ‘bout sparring?” he asks, tone apparently bored due to having to come and get you.

He’s sans mask and grease paint, a softer balaclava covering his features. His eyes bore into your own, gaze unwavering.

“Shit, give me just a minute-” you start, but he’s already disappeared out of sight.

Grabbing your gym bag, you throw it up over your shoulder with a huff. Stumbling into your gym shoes, you pad down the long hallway, adjusting your falling sock on the way. The gyms across the courtyard, so you push the rollbar on the door to start that way, relieved that the cool night air hits your flushed skin. The strap on your bag is digging into your shoulder on the way over. You adjust it a few times before you arrive. It’s later in the evening, not many in the vicinity. That’s how you like it. Either early in the morning or late at night – depending on your schedule.

He’s already warming up in the ring, large hands wrapped in tape. You can’t help but watch the dip of the muscles along his back as he brings his chest close to the mat before pushing back up again. Dropping your bag on the bench next to his own, you pull your tape out and begin to wrap your wrists snugly. Doing an experimental roll on your right wrist, you test the flexibility of the tape, deeming it acceptable. Mimicking your left hand, you rewrap a few times until you feel it’s comfortable enough.

Work related touching did not count for the bet. You both had to practice your sparring techniques, considering the two of you were anticipating an upcoming mission that was only two weeks out and Ghost did not deem you worthy of holding your own. You were damn determined to show him. Gaz had been helping you when both of you had free time. You had subtly improved in the past couple weeks, able to get Gaz pinned under your grip the last few tries of the night.

There was no way in hell you would pin Ghost. He was way too fucking big for that. So, you had to use other techniques to bring him to his knees. Not that you would mind seeing him that way.

“C’mon then, don’t have all night,” he barks out, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You step through the ropes, crouching so as not to disturb them. Straightening up, you step back to your corner of the mat. Despite sparring together numerous times over the past few weeks, you’re still intimidated by him. Ghost brings a whole different level to sparring. Broad shoulders rolling back and setting up in their comfortable fighting stance. You mimic, planting your feet squarely on the mat.

“Show me what you’ve got bunny,” he says, balaclava contorting against his skin.

Bastard’s smiling.

You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as you determine what would be the best starting point for breaking him down. Faking left, you quickly spin right, bringing your foot up and swinging out to contact his upper thigh. His large hand wraps around your foot, easily stopping it from making contact and knocking you off your balance. You land on your back with a thud, air hissing out of your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Taking a few seconds to regain yourself, you move just in time to miss Ghost’s open palm contacting your face. You position yourself quickly, squaring your feet and planting them solidly. While he’s recovering from his swing, you take this time to go for the back of his knee. Contacting a swift kick, you get him down. He stumbles forwards, attempting to right himself when you land another jab in-between his ribs with an open hand, thumb tucked under your four fingers.

He huffs in annoyance, swatting blindly to try and grab you. You lash out and grab his arm, twisting up and back behind his head. You’re not able to hold for long due to the mere size and strength he musters. He taps the mat three times, signaling you won that round. You grin with pride.

“Not bad,” he winces, rubbing his ribs right where you jabbed your pointer and middle fingers through.

You roll your shoulders, adjusting before squatting back down in your fighting stance.

“Not gonna go easy on ya’,” he clarifies, lurching forwards before his sentence is even finished.

It nearly catches you off guard, but you can move faster than him. Spinning on your left foot, you are out of his reach and now must recover before he lunges again. He lands a kick to your shin, causing you to crouch in pain. Through gritted teeth, you quickly somersault to avoid another swift kick. He grabs you by the ankle, dragging you close to him. You wriggle in his grip, rolling once again to try and loosen his fingers. It’s no use, his grip is like a vice. You lean up, trying to pry his fingers off you. You take a halfhearted swipe at his arm, throwing your head back in frustration when it’s apparent he is not letting go. He takes your other leg in his left hand, twisting it up and off the mat.

Gritting your teeth, you angrily tap the mat three times. He releases in an instant, your legs slamming to the mat with a thud. He gives you a moment, allowing you to pull your leg to your body and rub your ankle. There’s no doubt you will have bruises tomorrow. You huff in frustration, a light sheen of sweat on your skin now. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, you ready up again.

It's your turn to start once again. You slide on your left knee, swiping at Ghost’s feet. Your shoes encounter his shins, but it barely affects him. He just side steps and readies his stance again. Trying not to get aggravated and let your emotions swallow your focus, you slide again, swiping at his shins and then kicking up into his hip. You’ve got to get him down. Remembering your training with Gaz, your main goal was to distract. Especially with a bigger target. You throw your arms up, deflecting a jab straight to your ribs. Throwing them back down, you knock his arm out of the way. Ghost’s tattooed arm. Ink splattering up and hiding under the cuff of his tee. You shake your head, honing your thoughts on winning this sparring match. You couldn’t be the one getting distracted. Biting your lip, you throw an open palm forward, you make steady contact with his sternum. It takes you by surprise. You look up at him in shock. He stumbles a bit – you take the opportunity.

You strike again, and when he stumbles yet again, you swipe your foot under his feet, knocking him to the ground. What you weren’t expecting was Ghost to pull you down on top of him. You land on his chest with a thud. Both of you are breathing heavily. You feel sweat dripping down your back.

“Not bad, bunny,” he huffs, hint of a laugh in his voice.

You muster a halfhearted grin, trying your best not to acknowledge the position the two of you are in right now. Does he even know what he does to you? Ghost shifts under you, placing his foot firmly on the ground. This action lifts his hips upwards, bumping them against your own. You bite back the desperate noise clawing up the back of your throat.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks languidly, not a care in the world, what a prick.

Your panties say otherwise.

“No-“you bite out quickly, shoving your palms against his chest and pushing yourself into a sitting position.

His gaze lazily follows your form, his eyes take a moment, almost as if they were swimming in honey. Pupils blown wide, nearly black with Desire? Want? You didn’t want to finish the thought, an uncertainty pooling in your belly.

Taking a deep breath, you go to stand up, but his hand reaches out lightning fast, gripping onto the fat of your hip.

“Where ya, goin?” he asks, a predatory smile in his voice.

You can’t look away, almost entranced by his gaze. He’s fucking terrifying. Your breath hitches in your throat, almost choking you. Ghost was always an uncertainty; you never knew what cards he had within his deck. Unpredictability is what made him a valuable part of the team.

He squeezes your hip once, a warning. Watching for your reaction. Touching was off the rules, but this was still a part of the sparring session, right? You feel a blush bloom wildly across your cheeks and down your chest, the heat from your desire pooling straight to your core. A soft shudder emerges from the moment. His thumb brushes back and forth over the skin peaking from under your training shirt. A sliver of vulnerability that has you desperately grabbing at what little restraint that you had left.

A wild card was always hidden and used within the most vulnerable moment. And that’s what he was doing. You recognized it almost immediately. He was falling apart faster than you were and tried using it to his advantage. You internally curse yourself for almost falling under his spell. Losing this bet was off the fucking table. Gritting your teeth, you loosen his grip from your hip and stand up.

“Not losing this bet is what I’m doing,” you huff, adjusting your hair back into the loose ponytail that had fallen down on your shoulder.

He laughs then, a sound almost punched out of his chest. An odd, but melodic thing.

“Damn,” he curses. “Almost had ya.”

“I’m not that easy to break,” you huff, top lip curling up in frustration.

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” he warns.

—

The next few days passed with no incident. In fact, Ghost was nowhere to be found. Guess he lived up to his callsign after all. You kept yourself busy – to the best of your ability. Studying up on the upcoming mission took up most of your time. Especially when you needed a distraction from the physical want that was etching itself in your body. You were being ridiculous, you knew that. Plenty of years had passed before you had even met Ghost, but there was something about him that you could not stay away.

He was alluring in the way he presented himself. Using his body language to convey his point. He made you pay attention to him. Small, minute movements that almost had you second guessing if you had even seen them. A roll of the eyes, ticking of the jaw under his balaclava, the clenching and unclenching of his fists to hide his struggle with restraint. You became a master at reading him.

He wasn’t one to let others close, but you had somehow managed to squeeze through. You didn’t take his bullshit, always confronting him and holding your ground. To be honest, you believed you intimidated him. A power play that always worked to your advantage. The two of you butted heads often, a sign of similar thinking. He was a solid partner to have in the field, but it was hard to think straight when said partner caused you to have unsolicited thoughts when you were at work.

The temptation of what could be was the main culprit. You took pride in yourself, not making your way to bed with just anyone. They had to earn you. And you were damned sure to make Ghost beg for you. It would work. You could already see him unraveling at the seams. It wouldn’t be long now. But you were a little uncertain on how you would hold up.

He had a way of unwantingly getting under your skin. Ghost knew how to push your buttons and for some ungodly reason, you liked it. Did he know how much you daydreamed of him? How his mouth felt…his hands…his…

Another intrusive thought breaking knock had your head whipping upwards a little too quickly. A sharp crack popping the top of your neck.

“Ow, fuck,” you wince, reaching up and rubbing the sore spot.

Again, you make your way to the door, slowly opening it. To your surprise, it’s not Ghost. It’s Gaz.

“You forget about sparring?” he asks, almost a complete mirror of your conversation with Ghost a couple of days ago.

You shake your head quickly, the crick still there from moments earlier. Grabbing your shoes and gym bag, you follow Gaz down the hall. Unlike Ghost, he waits for you as you readjust the weight on your shoulder.

“I’ve got a couple of new maneuvers we can try this evening. I don’t think Ghost will see them coming,” he grins, white of his teeth flashing at you.

“Oh really?” you ask, eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise.

He nods, excitedly talking with his hands, demonstrating the move as you make your way to the gym. It’s late in the evening, just how you like it. Gaz pulls his sweatshirt off from over his head, revealing a tight fitted task force issued shirt. You set your bag down, starting to tape up your hands as he flicks the rest of the lights on.

What you weren’t expecting was the behemoth of a shadow to appear under the last flickering light.

“Fuck!” you shout in surprise, dropping your roll of tape onto the floor. It lies forgotten.

“L.T., respectfully what the fuck?” Gaz questions, also a little unsettled that he was just standing in the dark.

He says nothing for a moment, silence stretching thin with discomfort. You shoot a glance over at Gaz and he shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

“I’ll be takin’ over this sparring session,” he finally comments, breaking the thick silence.

You immediately protest, harsh words flying from your lips before you can stop them.

“Like hell you are! Gaz and I are doing just fine without you. You’re just pissed you couldn’t pin me Tuesday morning,” you huff, the feeling of frustration pulling your eyebrows together.

Ghost crosses his arms. The fabric of his t-shirt is stretched thin over the bulge of his muscles. He nonchalantly rolls his head to the side, a non-verbal “try me”. You nearly scream in frustration. All the pent-up energy from your little bet is starting to eat at you. Whether you want to admit it or not. You couldn’t stand the constant yo-yoing of Ghost being gone and then suffocatingly all up in your space. He treated you like a child, unable to handle things on your own. You’ve proven yourself to be a valuable team member to everyone except him.

“I’m sparring with Gaz,” you repeat, standing your ground.

You stand defiant, chin raising upwards towards the ceiling. You weren’t backing down. He didn’t scare you. Ghost drops his arms in mock defeat, sauntering quietly closer to you. Your eyes flit to the ticking of his jaw. He’s frustrated with you. Good. Serves him right. His height takes him no time to fill up the space you were defending. Nearly blocking out the sight of Gaz with his broad shoulders. You grit your teeth, finally making eye contact with him.

His pupils are blown, nearly taking up his entire iris. It makes your tummy flutter with want. You internally curse yourself, trying your best to stand your ground. Your resolve is failing.

“Easy,” he warns, thick accent turning your insides to molten honey.

Your breath catches, mind racing to respond to him in a way that won’t make you look like a lovestruck idiot. But then, an almost sinister thought pops into your head. One that could work either way – to your advantage or to your disadvantage. You decide to try it. Looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, you flutter them almost lovingly in his direction.

“Pretty please L.T.?” you almost beg, dropping your voice into a sultry tone.

He shifts almost immediately, your words having an extreme effect on his resolve. You can see it in the way his fists clench tightly against his sides. He’s physically restraining himself to not touch you. It makes you blush furiously, heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks.

“Get on then,” he barks out, turning quickly on his heel and leaving the gym with a slam of the metal door.

You turn back to Gaz, eyes wide in surprise. You really didn’t think that your idea would work.

“What-?” Gaz starts to ask, but you dismiss his question with a halfhearted wave of your hand.

Your sparring session goes quite well. Gaz is a great partner to work with. His new routine makes you finesse your limbs in a way that you had never tried before. The new techniques take some time to get the fluidity down, but by the end of your session, you’re dripping with sweat, exhaustion seeping into your overexerted muscles. You feel accomplished enough, ready to take a shower and call it a day. Gaz walks you back to your room. Congratulating you on your accomplishments and how easily you picked up his well-thought out maneuvers. The two of you make plans to go out this weekend before your mission the following week.

Your limbs are trembling with exhaustion as you step into the shower. The hot water hitting your muscles makes you moan in relief. Suds from your favorite body wash make the room smell pleasant and you move slowly to relish the delicious feeling from the water. You’re hesitant to step out, the cold air biting at your overheated skin. It’s late, you note as you brush your teeth and apply the steps of your skincare routine. Overworn pajamas caress your soft skin, and your damp hair frames your face as you make your last rounds to make sure everything is set up for the next day. This way, you can sleep in a little later. You’re not much of a morning person.

You don’t remember falling asleep. Eyes blearily blinking open to the annoying drone of your alarm. You smack it haphazardly, snoozing for another couple of minutes. It’s Saturday. A slower day that you can appreciate. Today is mostly a paperwork day. Last couple of hours before your mission on Monday. Nerves set your body alight, twisting your stomach and making a lump appear in your throat. You do your best to keep yourself calm. An unpredictable environment is part of the job. You just have a hard time pre-adjusting to the fact. Once you’re in the field, you adapt rather quickly. However, this stupid bet with Ghost needs to either come to an end or be forgotten for the time being until the mission is over. You cannot afford to be distracted while out in the field.

Your day goes by rather quickly. You spend most of the morning running and deciphering reports before dropping them off to Price later in the afternoon. On your way, you run into Gaz, who regrets informing you that your plans must be postponed, as he has training hours to make up for an upcoming performance review. It sours your mood a little, pulling a frown onto your features for a little while. You were looking forward to a distraction for the evening.

Price is in his office talking with Ghost. You could tell his silhouette from any shadow within the facility. Not wanting to interrupt, you sneak up to the dropbox, laying your papers in the spot as quietly as possible. You can’t help but overhear their conversation, cursed by a lingering curiosity.

“Don’t think she’s a good fit for this mission,” Ghost grumbles.

His arms are crossed in annoyance, picking at the sleeve of his sweater almost nervously. But you know him. He’s not nervous. It’s out of boredom.

“Sparrin’s not her strong suit. Barely got me down last week. She’s fuckin’ strugglin’,” he continues.

Your body heats with anger, shame flushing hot down the back of your neck. You swallow your pride, nearly choking on it as you turn hotly on your heel and make your way back to your office. Packing up your things in a rush, you knock your laptop to the floor. It clatters loudly against the tile.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching down to pick it up and place it in your tote bag.

Heavy sounding footsteps echo down the hallway. You know by the pacing of the gate that it’s Ghost. It only makes you angrier. You were trying to get out of here in a hurry before he saw how his words affected you. Panic surges in your limbs, making your fingers quiver. You try your best to swallow the lump that is forming in your throat at the thought of having to talk to him. He walks right past your office, not even looking at you.

You could have screamed. With a huff, you slam your door shut and fumble with the key a few times before getting it successfully in the lock. Your room isn’t far from the office building, so you quickly cross the yard and walk down the hallway. The sounds of your footsteps echo and bounce, sounding out your anger. Unlocking the door, you throw your bag down on the end of your bunk, yanking your shoes off and throwing them down as well. You sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing your hair down in a self-soothing motion.

The anger still swirling in your chest, you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over. This was fucking ridiculous. You were acting like a spoiled child. Price had not said anything to you about the mission, nor anything about plans changing at the last minute. So, you don’t understand why you were getting so upset. Probably over the fact that you thought of Ghost highly, especially because of his status, but because of your personal feelings as well. Those, you needed to get ahold of before things turned sour.

You couldn’t believe that he would go behind your back and say what he did to Price. The bet was getting the best of him and with your little stunt you pulled, you had no doubt that was what sparked him to even bring it to Price’s attention. You were a goal-driven individual, someone who took pride in their work and accomplishments. Someone talking behind your back on your performance is not something you would take lightly.

So, you decided to do something about it. Walking over to your small fridge, you pulled out a bottle of liquid confidence (raspberry vodka) and took a big swig before slamming the door shut. You feel the warmth of the alcohol settle quickly in your tummy. Feeling this gave you the determination you needed to make your way down the hall, across the yard, and up the stairs to Ghost’s room. Never have you ever been to the Lieutenant’s corridors. You had no reason to be here, except for now. Taking a deep breath, you set your shoulders back and knock loudly on his door.

The rattle of your knuckles against the metal echoes loudly in the hallway. Not a soul was there. You were starting to doubt yourself. What you didn’t think of was the fact that he might not even be here. This was stupid. A stupid, rookie mistake that you didn’t even begin to think through because you were upset. A sinking feeling pools in your stomach.

Then, the door opens. Revealing a slightly disheveled Ghost. You notice he’s still in work attire, tactical pants, steel toe boots, tight black shirt stretching deliciously across his broad chest. No grease paint, softer balaclava as opposed to the hard skull mask.

You swallow, unable to look him in the eyes. You focus over his shoulder instead.

“What?” he asks rather rudely, accent clipped, not in the mood for whatever you have brought him.

Your upper lip pulls upwards in annoyance, the fire igniting in your belly once again.

“Can we talk?” you ask.

“Already are,” he deadpans.

You huff at that, rolling your eyes.

“Fucking forget it,” you say, turning on your heel and stepping to leave.

Large fingers encircle your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble, attempting to stable your footing as he releases you just as quickly as he grabbed you. There are still rules to follow. He’s leaning up against the doorframe, looking as bored as ever as he crosses his arms over his chest. His gaze is unwavering, dark eyes watching you in a way that makes you borderline uncomfortable. Your heart is pounding steadily, you can hear the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh in your ears.

“What’s the problem?” he asks nonchalantly.

It takes all the courage you can muster, but you finally reply.

“You,” your voice shakes, a wobbly sounding thing.

It reminds you of when you were a younger girl, no confidence backing your statements. It makes you want to curl up into a ball. You feel tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You’re humiliated, sniffling as your lip trembles with emotion. He’s gotten the best of you. You’re so frustrated, pent-up desires digging hard into your insides, making it almost unbearable to be around him. It’s hard to see him through the glassy tears in your eyes, but you notice his eyebrows shoot upwards towards his hairline.

You’re making him uncomfortable. You can tell his demeanor changes. A furious flush of embarrassment spreads wildly across your face. Quickly twisting your head to the side, you use your hair to cover your face. A gentle touch on your wrist startles you. His grip is gentle, almost concerning. You can’t bear to look at him, shame turning your stomach sour.

“Hey,” his voice is quiet, much quieter than you’ve ever heard it before.

Almost as if it was reserved for someone special. You’re not special to him. At least, not in your own mind. He was your Lieutenant, and you, his inferior. This little game you decided to delve into wasn’t the best idea. It seemed fun at first, almost like a challenge, but now, you wanted to kick it under the dark recesses of the rug and never look at it again. You knew you didn’t have a chance with him, which is why you played the game. It didn’t have the chance to come to fruition. Unless?

You take a chance and look up at him. His gaze has softened, usually dark eyes almost the color of honey.

“Such a dense, little thing,” he tuts, hint of a smile in his voice.

You frown at that, confusion apparent on your face. He steps closer to you, invading your personal bubble. Popping it with the irony of an invisible needle. Leaning down, his covered lips almost touch the shell of your ear when he speaks.

“You don’t realize what you do to me.”

A full shudder makes its way down your body, goosebumps prickling along your skin. You’re speechless, His confession clung to your thoughts like a persistent melody, haunting and insistent. It couldn’t be true, there was no way. You try finding the words, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Ghost is still lingering by your ear, soft puffs of air tickling your skin.

“You don’t mean that,” you whisper.

“I do,” he answers almost instantly.

You close your eyes, lip getting caught on your teeth. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders before taking a glance up at him. He’s back to his towering height, must’ve moved when your eyes were closed. Swirls of desire are present in his eyes. Gaze unwavering as he stands before you.

“Do I need to prove it to ya?” he questions, stepping forwards before stopping himself and staying rooted in his spot.

The bet. The stupid, stupid bet. He’s fighting the restraint, barely holding his resolve. Ghost’s nearly trembling before you. You hold the power in this situation. He’s offering you the reigns. You decide to take a leap of faith and go for it.

A small smile appears on your face as you nod slowly. You watch as his eyes grow dark, almost predatory. Frozen in your spot, your heart starts to race. A chill of adrenaline runs down your spine, causing a shiver. Your eyes are locked on his unwavering gaze. Trying to analyze his every thought, every move that he might make.

He steps forward then, taking up your space. It’s almost suffocating. You remind yourself to take a deep breath through your nose. His large fingers spread themselves over the fat of your hip, pulling you flush to his broad chest.

Bet broken.

You don’t know where to place your hands so you lay them across his chest, absentmindedly stroking the fabric of his black shirt. His fingers mimic your own, brushing the fabric of your shirt up to make contact with your skin. He’s burning hot with desire, his warmth leaching into your exposed skin.

You look up at him, the blush furiously warming the skin on your face. He’s a lot more intimidating up close. Your eyes scan his face, noticing the soft spattering of freckles threatening to peak up over his balaclava. Freckles! His gaze has softened, eyes flitting around your face, taking you all in.

You watch as his dark eyes flicker down to your lips and back up again.

“You wanna kiss me, L.T.?” you whisper.

He makes a soft noise at that. It crawls up his throat and makes its way out before he can stop it. You watch in awe as he quickly flips the black balaclava up and over his nose, folding it haphazardly across the bridge. There’s a small scar splitting his upper lip. He’s smiling, a crooked thing. Makes him human. Your stomach flutters with want.

His large fingers caress your jaw, sweeping a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Ghost’s thumb brushes your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it bounce back to its normal position. He makes another soft sound, one that makes your heart lurch. He leans down then, tilting your chin up to meet his lips.

They’re surprisingly soft. You brush your lips together, testing the water. He tastes of chamomile and a hint of a long-forgotten cigarette. Your eyes flutter closed, and you relax, letting him take the lead. You follow blindly, stumbling alongside in the dark, letting touch take the forefront. Relaxing your lips, you let them fall open, allowing his tongue to slither its way into your mouth. Your hands are still on his chest, clutching the dark shirt between your fingers.

His tongue dances with yours, an unfamiliar tango, but it works, nonetheless. You’re clumsy, a bit out of practice. He doesn’t seem to mind. It’s only when he pulls away that you realize that you’re both still out in the hallway. A soft sound of disappointment falls from your lips. Your turn. Ghost steps backwards, beckoning you into his room with crook of his fingers. You follow faithfully, keeping as close to him as you can. Once the door is shut, he’s on you in an instant. Pressing you up against the cool metal frame of the door.

It feels good on your heated skin. You reach up on your tippy toes, looping your arms haphazardly around his neck. Ghost buries his face in yours, using his nose to tilt your chin up for better access. His lips brush against the thin skin of your pulse point before a sharp pinch causes a yelp to fall from your lips. Just as quickly as it was there, it’s gone, soothed by the swipe of a masterful tongue. Your breathing quickens, a familiar wetness pooling in your panties. You cross your legs, trying to relieve it with friction.

He’s tugging at your shirt now, almost frantically. You help by untangling your arms from around his neck and lifting them over your head. Once your shirt is gone, you feel a bit vulnerable. You swallow, eyes down casting to the floor. You take a moment to look at your surroundings. It’s dim, the room lit by one small lamp. Military neat as well. No personal items on display. You don’t know Ghost at all. In the room with a stranger.

His deep voice brings you out of your thoughts, refocusing your attention in front of you. Your shirt is still in his hands, arms resting at his sides.

“You alright?” he asks, trained eyes watching your every move.

You nod a little too quickly. He notices immediately. Your shirt is dropped to the floor, forgotten as he slowly steps backwards, sitting down on the edge of his bed. His legs spread, inviting you to fit perfectly inside.

Stumbling forwards, you slowly step forwards until you’re in between his legs, locked in, no turning back now. He lured you in yet again and you didn’t even hesitate. His dark eyes watch your every move, slowly scanning up and down your body. They stop at the bruise blossoming along your hip.

His eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, large hand darting out to investigate. You momentarily flinch at first contact, but he is as gentle as can be.

“Where’d this come from?” he murmurs, eyes focused on the spot, almost as if he could erase it with sight alone.

“Oh,” you awkwardly cough, adverting his gaze yet again. “Just from sparring...” you mumble.

“I did this?” he asks incredulously.

You can’t look him in the eye, gaze focused on the plain wall in front of you.

“’M sorry...” he murmurs again, and to your surprise, you feel soft lips brush against your exposed skin.

You shiver at the sudden contact, hands gently resting on his covered head. His touch is so gentle, as soft as the brush of a butterfly wing. Your eyes flutter closed again, relaxing your body against his own. He takes his time, lips exploring the exposed skin of your torso. You’re not used to him being so gentle with you, almost afraid that he might break you.

You want him to.

The heat radiating off his body lures you closer, a moth to the flame, desperate for warmth. You slide your hands down to his broad shoulders, squeezing them gently. The muscle is rigid under your touch. You feel a slight tremble, nervousness or restraint?

“You’re not going to hurt me, L.T.,” you sigh.

He huffs at that, the air from his lungs curling around your hip.

“Already did, and y’ didn’t tell me,” he grumbles.

It’s your turn to huff. You glance down at him, searching for his eyes. They’re closed, letting his hands commit you to memory.

“L.T. Look at me.”

His pretty eyes are on yours in an instant. The velvety circles of brown take your breath away. His gaze is intent, laser focused on your mouth. Something about the way that he follows orders immediately flips a switch inside of you.

“You’re a good listener,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

Nothing slides past Ghost though.

“I can be,” he utters.

You look at him then, really look at him. A smile threatens to pull the corner of your lip up.

“Would you listen to me?” you question.

His brows furrow again, not in confusion, but in consideration. His eyes dart around your frame for a minute before landing back on your face.

“I don’ see why not, where do you want me?”

Your stomach tugs at that.

“On your knees.”

A choked sound leaves his lips and he’s down before you in a flash, knees spread and hands resting comfortably on the tops of his large thighs. Oh, he’s pretty. Ghost waits patiently, almost in anticipation of your next command. Your thoughts are racing, a jumbled mess of what if’s and then if’s. You weren’t expecting the night to turn this way, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. The pool of wetness in your panties was growing noticeably larger, threatening to spill down your leg.

“Do you like being on your knees?” you genuinely question.

“Not opposed to it,” he answers coolly.

Almost as if he’s been here before. You wonder how he keeps himself so calm. You’re nearly a blubbering mess, not used to being in control of anything. You take a step back, really soaking in the moment. The soft amber glow from the single lamp on his desk illuminates his figure, casting a soft glow on his body. He’s all hard ridges though, nothing soft about him, except the noises that crawl up his throat.

“How far are you willing to move the balaclava?” you ask, not wanting to push.

“Nose bridge,” he answers with a sigh.

So, no moving that. You frown a little but respect his decision. Making your way back over to him, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay?” you ask.

He nods, however his eyes are wide, almost like a frightened animal. You gently pet his shoulder, sliding your thumb up to his pulse point. Strong and steady. Ghost leans into your touch, aching for attention.

“Good,” you murmur, stroking his pulse point with your thumb for a couple of moments.

His eyes flutter closed, a sign of trust. He’d let you do anything to him. You step even closer, bringing your feet together so you can bend at the waist. Both of your hands cup his face, leaning down to place soft kisses around the corner of his mouth. Ghost smiles, a shudder running through his body. You place your lips on his own, sliding one of your hands to the nape of his neck. Swiping your tongue over his bottom lip, you ask for permission.

He’s a little hesitant, so you tug at the back of the balaclava, which causes a gasp to fall from his lips. This allows you to slip your tongue inside, exploring the tresses of his mouth. A deep rumble comes up through his chest, a pleasant noise. You took him by surprise. The kiss ignites a fire in your belly, causing your knees to wobble. You drop onto your own, tilting is head down to prevent the kiss from breaking. His hands still rest on his thighs, as obedient as ever.

A small laugh escapes your lips.

“Touch me L.T.”

His large hands slide to the small of your back as he leans forward. He guides you back onto the cool floor, placing his hands on either side of your head. They act as a cage, keeping you safe. One brushes your hair from your face, allowing it to fan out like a halo. It follows the path down the side of your face, your neck, and down to the valley of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls, arching up into his touch.

Ghost’s fingers trace the lace of your bra, fingers itching to dip below the fabric. You whine softly, eyes growing a little heavy with desire. His dart up at the sound of your whine, eyes shining with want. The look in his eyes is ravenous. He could devour you whole if you’d let him.

“Ghost,” you whine his name softly.

He shudders at the sound of his name, eyes never leaving your face. His touches so deliberate to drive you crazy. Your nipples stiff into little peaks, rubbing against the fabric of your bra. His fingers slide under the fabric, brushing the peak of one. You’re so sensitive, arching up into the attention he devotes to it. The rough pad of his fingers gives the friction that your body needs. You feel another wave of wetness pool into your panties.

Ghost leans down then, pulling the fabric to the side and darting his tongue out to swipe across the bud. You moan, hand finding the back of his head to keep him there. While his tongue swirls around one, his fingers slide up and down your torso, squeezing the fat of your hip. You can’t keep still, body arching into his touch on its own accord. You want him closer closer closer. Any thoughts you were having were gone, replaced only by want of your Lieutenant.

You lift your hips up, shimmying out of your pants, leaving you in just your underwear. Spreading your legs, you let him fit as close as he can to you. It’s not enough, you want more. Insatiable, you are. He switches to kissing down the valley of your chest, teasing around the hem of your panties. Frustration growing in your chest, you shift gears, giving him control again.

“You want me to beg?” you ask breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he laughs softly against your skin.

Shame heats your face, but you’re desperate. You’re a lot louder than you expected to be. A loud noise falls from your lips, a mix between a whine and a moan.

“Pretty please L.T.,” you beg, words reminding you of the other night with Gaz.

Your hips arch up against his face, begging him to taste. He takes the bait; words affect him quicker than you thought they would. He’s nearly rippling with restraint, resolve crumbling.

“Since y’ asked so nicely,”

He hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the slide and flattens his tongue to swipe it up through your folds.

“Fuck,” you gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure.

Ghost switches between a swirl of figure eights through your folds and wrapping his lips around your clit. Of fucking course he’s good at this. He’s fucking exceptional. His tongue has your orgasm peaking in a matter of minutes.

“L.T-” you warn, voice sultry with lust.

He moans against your pussy, eyes rolling up in the back of his head. You can feel his length against your leg, growing more and more hard with each swipe of his tongue. Ghost dips his tongue into your entrance, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You gasp, breath punched from your lungs as waves of pleasure pool throughout your body. He doesn’t let up, eating you out like a man starved.

Your juices paint his face, dripping down onto the floor. The smell of you fills his room, leaving a permanent reminder of what happened this evening. You feel his fingers brush your entrance, testing the waters and dipping two inside. They slide easily due to just how wet you are. You feel full, stretched by his thick fingers. Involuntarily, you clench down, feeling your toes curl in pressure.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he groans against your thigh, placing kisses and nips to the skin there.

You can only whine, brain molded into putty from your first orgasm. Another one is approaching, you can tell by the burning sensation in your belly. Thighs shaking, you lean into your next orgasm, sobbing out in pleasure. You feel your eyes roll back into your head, nerves set align in ecstasy. Thick fingers curl against the spongey spot that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” you sob, body trembling with exhaustion.

“There we go, that’a girl,” Ghost murmurs, voice rumbling within the barrel of his chest.

The deep timbre of his voice has you clenching around his fingers.

“You like when I praise you?” he questions, smirk in his voice.

He stills his fingers, pulling a whine up your throat.

“Y-Yes,” you gasp, grinding your hips in an attempt to relieve the friction.

Ghost pulls his fingers out completely, lifting them up to his lips. He wraps them around the thick digits, nearly moaning at the taste of you.

“Fuckin’ heavenly,” he groans, unbuckling his pants and shimmying them down his slender hips.

They rest around his thighs, leaving him in only his underwear. His cock is straining against the fabric, threatening to escape at any moment. You watch him through hooded eyes, pleasure making you feel heavy.

“So are you,” you murmur, eyes following his every move.

He smirks at that, blush burning under the roll of his balaclava. It’s pretty on him. Ghost slides his hand down his torso, brushing his fingers over the band of his underwear. A shiver goes down his spine, delayed pleasure bound to escape at any moment. Your hand reaches up, beckoning him to come closer. He shimmies closer to you and you lean up on your elbows, a little wobbly from your previous orgasms.

“C’mere,” you murmur, getting up on your knees.

You dip your fingers into his waistband, brushing the velvety tip of his cock. He shudders at your touch, eyes fluttering closed. You wrap your fingers around his length, slowly starting to stroke up and down.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, large hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder.

You’re not too experienced on this, but you try your best. Slowly having your fingers curl a little tighter as you move them up and down. He’s very big. And thick. Grumbles of pleasure rumble in his chest. You notice that his breathing changes, chest rapidly falling up and down with your ministrations. A pretty blush spreads across his pecs. You bite your lip, eyes trailing up to his face.

His eyes are on yours in an instant, molten honey swirling with pleasure. A soft sound falls from his lips. You lean forward and kiss him, nibbling on his lip. Pushing him back on his knees, you settle yourself in his lap. Dipping your hips down you brush your folds over the head of his cock. He shudders, gripping your hips and continuing the motion.

“You feel so good,” you whine, holding on to his broad shoulders.

He pushes his face into your neck, biting at the soft point between it and your shoulder. You gasp, hand reaching up to his covered head. Ghost soothes the bite with his tongue, angling his hips before pushing inside your wet heat.

“Ghost!” you gasp, the thick girth of his cock spreading you open.

“Fuck, bunny,” he groans, voice full of restraint.

You slowly sink down until your hips are flush. Both of your bodies trembling. You’re nearly babbling, pawing at his broad shoulders. His large hand pets your side, attempting to soothe you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, placing soft kisses on the inside of your bicep.

“You’re s-so big,” you gasp, involuntarily clenching around him.

He shifts then, holding you close as he stands up. Ghost moves slowly, laying you gently on his bed, careful to keep you close. You’re engulfed in the smell of him, arching upwards onto the sheets before relaxing against him. He takes this moment to pull back slowly before pushing into your heat again. A moan rips out of your throat as you stretch your hips to accommodate his wide ones as he shimmies close.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the stretch. A mix of pain and pleasure as he rolls his hips into your own. Ghost brushes your hair from your sweaty face, eyes trained on your own.

“So beautiful. Taking me so well,” he murmurs.

You moan, eyes never leaving his. Pleasure swells in your belly, rendering you nearly immobilized to the bed. All you can do is lay there and take it, which is exactly what Ghost wants for you. You reach up to rest your hands on his biceps, squeezing.

“I'm-” you warn.

“Come on bunny. Let go for me. Give me another.” he praises, soft voice music to your ears.

His rough fingers find the pad of your clit, flicking it in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll up into your head, another orgasm punching a groan out of your lungs. Arching into his touch, you let your pleasure roll in waves. It’s overwhelming and the tears pooling in your eyes finally spill over. You’re sobbing, clenching around his thick length as it continues to punch your cervix.

“G-Ghost, I swear-” you gasp out.

He laughs then, a melodical thing that turns into a moan as you feel his hips falter. He’s close, rapid thrusts stuttering as he finally unloads into your cunt. It’s hot, painting your walls white as he finishes. You are completely spent, unable to move due to exhaustion. He’s careful not to put his full weight on you, pulling out slowly with a groan.

“That was-” you start.

“Well deserved,” he finishes.

You laugh breathlessly, a smile breaking out on your face. He’s smiling too, already up and walking to the bathroom to get something to clean you off. The warm cloth feels good on your cooling skin.

“You definitely lost,” you joke.

“I beg to differ,” he quips.

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