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a-b-riddle · 11 months ago

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Gaz & his Love (Part one?)

The '141' stops as soon as they are back home. After that, they are just close friends. Simon, John, Kyle and Johnny had managed to settle down and find themselves sweet little things. All who adore their brave men and all who share different tastes

In this 'series', it's essentially bits of each of the 141 one and their kinks they have with their partners. With that being said, I don't really care if you think that Soap is submissive or Ghost is into CNC/Primal play. That's great. But in this fantasy, this is what it is. It's what I wanted to write. If you want Kyle Garrick to be a pleasure Dom and John to be a Daddy Dom. Cool. Go find other fictions that write that, or be the one to write them. I'm not going to argue about what kinks they would really have.

CW: NSFW. Edging. Use of chastity belt. Spanking. Mentions of figging. D/s dynamics. Self-deprication. Aftercare. Impact play.

4.5 k words.

Not proof-read

The downside of having a Dom with a huge dick is that he was stingy with it. Thus making him a huge dick. And when it became very apparent that you lacked any self control and restraint from touching your greedy little pussy, Kyle had found that edging you was the best form of punishment, if not just to push your limits.

He wouldn't necessarily call himself a sadist. The moment you started to cry (at least outside of the bedroom) he was quick to remedy the situation. The term brat tamer didn't sit right with either of you. You didn't like the idea of having to be tamed and Kyle liked, loved, that you could be, well, you.

But that didn't mean he didn't like setting you a little more straight. Making sure you stuck to your goals. Showed yourself the same kindess you insisted others be given. And most importantly, helping you remember that iced coffee does not count as a meal; an issue that is a reoccurring struggle.

Although Kyle did not like hurting you, he loved making you squirm. Edging, teasing. Making you cum so many times that you had to beg him to stop. Eventually he would.

You were ovulating and you tried to usually use that as an excuse to convince Kyle to let you have free reign over your orgasms. But you both knew that if he gave you an inch, you would take a yard. You would be chasing that euphoria all fucking day and you both shit you needed to get done.

He had went out on a quick errand, promising to be home at 6 and then the two of you could head out for dinner. He had gotten back earlier than expected and imagine the surprise he walked into when he came back home earlier than expected.

When he had found you rubbing yourself, legs spread without a care in the world, he practically beamed. You knew the rules and you broke them. He knew that the penance he had lined up would break you and he couldn't wait to be the one to help put you back together.

You had given a half ass apology when you first realized he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom. His eyes looking at you as if he were just waiting to eat you alive. You had expected anger or, at the least, a bit of irritation. As he stood there, saying nothing you took the initiative and offered to bend over, making his life a bit easier. You did have your moments where you did like being good for him.

But instead, he ordered you to stay on your back. Slowly walking to you. The sound of your heartbeat filling your head. He reached at the posts of the bed, pulling at the restraints that he always kept there just in case the moment arose where you needed a bit of… correcting.

He was tender as he wrapped the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. Adjusting the straps so you have very little movement. You have expected him to flip him on your belly so he could spend the next hours spanking your poor ass raw.

But given that the punishment needed to fit the punishment, you assumed it would be a night of bringing you to the brink of release only to deny you. You thought you knew what was in store.

But fuck were you wrong.

Once he had you exactly how he wanted, barely able to move, he stood. Staring only for a moment before making his way out of the bedroom.

He left you there, giving you a chance to guess how many times he would edge you until he finally felt like you had learned your lesson. And even then, the bastard still wouldn't let you come.

The sound of his approaching footsteps made your heart race.

He came back in with a box in hand. No markings or anything noteworthy. Just a plain cardboard box. With curious eyes, you practically burned a whole through it, trying to figure out what exactly could it be.

Too small to be a sybian or a fucking machine. You already had a decent sized collection of toys and paddles… Before you could keep guessing, he set in on the floor, just out of view before going to your dressers.

Smoothly, he pulled off his t-shirt leaving him only in a pair of jeans that hugged him perfectly. Kyle didn't say anything as he pulled out a Hitachi wand, some clamps, a dildo and a roll of duct tape.

Fuck. This was already going to be a long night.

Not taking his eyes off you, he made his way back on the bed pulling out something you hadn't noticed before. Your gaze zeroed in on the malicious object. A tool that Kyle knew you had a terrible familiarity with.

A simple and standard clear plastic ruler.

Dammit.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

It was more delicate than a paddle so Kyle had no qualms about using it on your pussy and with you were spread out with not even enough wiggle room to block him with your thighs. The precision made it so he could hit your clit directly. Every. Single. Time.

Couldn't get that kind of a precision with a flogger. One time when you

Immediately, he sensed your apprehension. Saw the sudden unease in your eyes. Kyle knew that you didn’t like being punished as much as you liked the release you got from it. There were some punishments that were completely off the table, personal hard limits for both you and him. But then there were some, like hitting and slapping your pussy that blurred the edges of what you could stand and what you couldn’t.

And although he loved bringing you to tears, the thing that made him get off was the fact that you wanted this as much as he did. You trusted him to not take things too far and dish out punishments that fit the infraction. Having your mouth gagged for extended periods when you smart off at him. Getting bent over his knee after being a little pain in the ass. And in this instance, torturing your pussy because you couldn’t keep your hands off her.

"You know your safe words and cues?" He asked, wanting to remind you could stop this at any time. You looked up at him, momentarily forgetting the intimidating instrument of torture he so casually held in his hand. His eyes cast over you hungrily. An absolute vision.

"Yes, Sir." He tried not to smile as he sensed the tremble in your usually steady voice. He liked you scared, hell even fighting against it. But he needed your consent. He needed to know that in that moment, you were relying on him to do what he knew what was best. You needed to let him take control and give everything to him.

"I don't think I need to remind you that during your punishments, you're not allowed to cum." He said twirling the ruler slowly, now wanting to taunt you.

Fuck.

You couldn’t look at it. It was like getting a shot. If you weren’t looking, it didn’t hurt as bad, right? "No, Sir." You swallowed, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Now that wouldn’t do. He thought. He needed your attention. Plus unless he had you blindfolded you or specified otherwise, you knew that during a scene you were to look at him when you answered him. You hissed as the piece of plastic landed on your inner thigh.

"Eyes on me." He ordered. You obeyed already shifting from his brat to his good girl. He hid his smile. It was hard when you started to get into your sub space to refrain from breaking you down too quickly. Kyle enjoyed the aftercare as much as he did taming you, but going about it too quickly wouldn’t help the lesson stick; a lesson you were in desperate need of learning.

“We’re going to start off with twenty.” You wanted to argue, but you had practically asked for it. How could you not remember to at least lock the door? You nod, too afraid to speak, your hands gripping onto the restraints to help ground you. "Count." Was his only response as the first swat came.

You hissed at the sinister slapping sound and the sting of pain that followed. "One." You breathed out taking a deep breathe in before the next one came.

"Two." Your voice rushed out. Two. You were only at two. Again. Deep breath.

smack

"Three." You squeaked. Another breath. smack. "Four!"

Kyle didn't know where he wanted to look the most.

At your face. Your eyes squinting and closing tightly at his lashing. At your tits. How your nipples had already started to pebble. Maybe he should take the ruler to those next...

But he had to keep his focus on your pussy. With each swat the clear ruler had come back with a little bit more of your juice. This was making you wet. You would never admit it and you didn't have to, but both of you knew that this turned you on. Being able to give up control, even for a moment. Having to let go was hard. But Kyle was the only person you could trust without micromanaging.

By the time you got to twenty, the tears that had pooled in your eyes had fallen. If he could have a painting commission for that very sight, he would have paid anything to have it. Instead, he had to settle on burning the image in his mind forever.

"Good girl." His praise was meant to mock you and acknowledge that he was satisfied with how you took your punishment.

"Are we not done?" You asked.

"Oh no, Love." He said picking up one of the clamps. "That was just for breaking the no-touching rule." He leaned over your body, taking a nipple in your mouth. You gasped. Your back arching into his touch. Wanting more. Needing more.

He flicked his tongue, faster and faster before suckling hard and releasing you with a pop. Before you could open your eyes, you felt the pinch from the clamp. No warning.

"Fuck!" You squirmed. Opening your eyes only to shoot daggers at Kyle, who was now straddling your waist with a smile playing on his lips.

"Onto the next one?" He asked, but you didn't entertain him with an answer. He took your other nipple in his mouth. Repeating the same motions that you yet again fell for. Trying to fight the need to arch your back. To hum as his tongue and your body worked against you.

Another pinch came. Even with the knowledge that it was coming it still hurt like an absolute bitch.

He got off of you only to crawl toward that delicate place between your thighs. You were dripping onto the bed. It took everything, every ounce of self control Kyle had to refrain from swiping his tongue up your folds. He could make a day out of eating you out until you cried and begged for mercy. He had done it before even if it took you almost 45 minutes before tapping out.

But when you saw him pick up another clip and his hand drawing closer to your exposed pussy you're first instinct was to call out yellow. He saw your recoil and stopped. His eyes met yours, searching for an answer. You both knew the ball was in your court. But it didn't feel like... enough?

"Green." You put your head back down against the pillow, waiting for the sharp sting. Instead it was just a gradual pressure. Slowly building instead of an instant pinch. Then another. And another. And another. It wasn't until you heard the harsh ripping of tape before you looked down to see what your boyfriend was doing.

He had put four clothes pins on your labia major, two on each side. The piece of tape he had just ripped with his teeth was used to hold the clamps against your leg. You didn't speak. Neither of you making eye contact as he continued to the other side until you were left fully exposed.

He sat back on his ankles, looking down and admiring your pussy as if it were artwork and he was the dedicated artist. "Mind if I take a picture for later?" He asked, his tone softening. "Something to think about when I'm on a mission." He gave a cheeky wink, but let you know in his voice that you could say no. Pictures and videos had always been a sore subject for you, but you had sent some here and there, although he had never prompted you before, even after all this time.

"Yes." You said. "But can it just not have my face?" The same request as always. You trusted Kyle, but there was always that what if possibility.

What if his phone got hacked?

What if someone got ahold of his phone or he was innocently trying to show one of his collegues a picture and then BAM, there's your pussy?

"Of course, Love." He said, pulling his phone from his back pocket before taking a few pictures. Without you asking, he turned the screen around. His fingers swiping through the photos to let you see your glistening, spread cunt. Just your cunt. Not your face. No identifying marks. "Look how pretty she is." Kyle's coo of approval made your stomach flutter.

Without any other remarks, he returned his phone back into his pocket and kneeled between your legs, resting on his own. "How many times did you come?" He asked. Although you frequently disobeyed Kyle, you never lied.

"I didn't." You shamefully admitted. "I just couldn't get there."

He hummed as if contemplating his next course of action. "Well then," he said. He grabbed a pillow near your head that you weren't using. Putting it in the space between your knees before lowering his body onto it. His mouth was hovering above your pussy. "Let's make up for that then."

The bastard had grabbed the pillow to make himself comfortable.

Fuck.

You were going to be here a while.

Eight. He had pulled eight orgasms out of you. He had switched things up between each one. Sometimes one finger before adding another and then a third. Using the dildo. But his mouth never left you and he never let up. Each one was as intense, if not more, than the last. You were crying by number four, but still hadn't begged him to stop.

But he was damned and determined to get you there.

You still hadn't by number twelve. You couldn't. Not from sheer stubbornness, but you simply couldn't. It was all too much. It was hurting at that point, but a new feeling, a heaviness consumed you. Your tongue was too heavy in your mouth. Your stomach was flipping, tightening its self into a little ball.

You weren't sure if you were hot or cold anymore, but you were certain that at any moment you were going to be sick. You were approaching number thirteen, feeling something more than just an orgasm threatening to escape you. You were going to throw up.

“K- Ky?” You stammered, forgetting your words. What was your safe word again?

“What’s your color?" He asked, pulling away from you for the first time in almost an hour.

“I-” you didn’t know. You didn’t want to tap out. You had disobeyed, this was the punishment. Kyle had never took things too far. You didn’t decide when this was done. He did. “I need a minute.”

Your head fell against the pillow. Closing your eyes, you try to breathe slowly through your nose. The wave of nausea didn't pass as your heart continued to beat so violently you head practically pulsed along with it.

While you were trying to get your shit together, fighting the sickness that started to swell inside you, Kyle began to fiddle with your restraints.

“What are you doing?” You asked, not having the strength to pull your head up to look at him.

“You’re done.” There was a finality in his voice, leaving no room for argument. “I’m calling Red.”

“What?” You asked, confused. "I-" You stuttered, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Process what was happening. "You can't call Red for me."

“Yes I can and I did.” He said, finishing the remaining cuffs before going for the clamps on your nipples.

“But you weren’t finished.” You don't know why you were arguing, but it felt wrong for him to just stop everything.

“Who said I was?” He smirked before gently taking off the clamps. Further down he moved, settling back down between your legs before rooming the clamps he had put on your aching pussy lips. You sucked in a breath as the blood rushed back.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You hadn't mean to say it out loud.

“Yeah. You’re done.” His tone annoyed.

“Please don’t be mad at me right now.” You said, throwing an arm over your eyes as if that would somehow shield you from the embarrassment. A sort of if I can't see them, they can't see me mentality. “I held out as long as I could.”

“I’m not mad that we needed to end the scene.” He explained, his tone not as annoyed as before, but still holding a certain sharpness to it. “I’m upset that you should have called yellow and didn’t.” You hissed as he removed the fourth and final clamp. “I’m guessing that you didn’t to prove something.”

Kyle was good at breaking you. It’s what you wanted. It's what he wanted. But he could only be sure to not cross the line if you drew it out for him. He didn't hold the power here, you did.

“Tapping out of a punishment makes me feel bad.” You confessed, still not daring to look at him. “It makes me feel like I bit off more than I could chew and that I’m trying to weasel my way out of a punishment and I don’t like that.”

He decided right this second wasn't the time to have this conversation. You were already starting to drop and he needed to get started on your aftercare. “Let’s get you showered off and then we’ll talk,” he offered, scooping you up from the bed before you had a chance to argue.

He ran the water on luke warm to help your temperature get back down before slowly building it up to a comfortable heat. You leaned against his chest as he ran his hands up and down your back.

Before you could really stop it, the tears came. Kyle felt your body shaking against his chest.

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “It’s alright, Love.”

"I don't know why I'm crying." You sobbed. "I just didn't want to weasel out of it."

"Using a safe word doesn’t mean you’re ’weaseling’ out of a punishment when it becomes too much,” He said, pulling you away to look at you. His fingers rubbing small circles on your arms. “It just means it just got to be too much. You needed to end the scene. End of story.”

“I know," you said, the crown of your head pushing against his chest as you looked down. The water still cascading down on you both. "But it still doesn’t feel that way.”

“Would you like me to keep punishing you?” You knew he was asking it rhetorically, but that didn't stop you from answering honestly.

“Maybe not anything with impact.” You offered. “Like lines or something.”

“I’ll think of something. Later.” He said grabbing your soap off of your little shelf and lathering you up. "Lets get you all cleaned up." Kyle's after care was just as important to him as it was to you. It helped ground him. Make him remember that everything in the bedroom was a fantasy.

You didn't think he was a monster. He wasn't cruel. It gave him an opportunity to also help build back what he had broken.

By the time he as finished rubbing you down, you were practically putty in his hands. "Finish up while I go and change the sheets." He kissed your forehead, leaving you to it.

“How you feeling?” He asked as you made your way back into the bedroom. He had already changed into a fresh pair of jeans and threw on a button up. Sometimes you hated how beautifully put together he could get almost instantly.

“Better.” You gave him a soft smile before noting his outfit.. "You're all dressed up."

"I figured we could still make dinner if you wanted to. You need to eat something." He wasn't wrong. You didn't want to get into the discussion about your only meal for the day had been an iced coffee. So you quickly got ready. You sat on the edge of the bed, putting on your socks when you noticed it again.

The box on the floor that Kyle had brought in earlier. The one he never opened.

“What’s that?” You pointed. Kyle wanted to say that the two of you could open it later, but he had been so exciting to go and pick up his order he could hardly wait.

“It's what I was going to finish the night off with," he answered with a gleam in his eye as he picked up the box, putting it on the bed. "Think of it as a surprise."

"What the fuck is that, Kyle Garrick?" You said, pulling your legs tightly to your body. As if coiling yourself into a ball would ever stop him.

"It's something to help you." That mischievous glint was back in his eye. Your heart stopped as he finally tore through the box like a kid at Christmas. Beaming with pride as he held up the sinister piece of metal.

“Kyle,” you began. “That's not a-”

“A chastity belt.” He finished. “Yes. It's my assurance.” He held up the chunk of metal, allowing it to shine in the bedroom.

"For what?" You're voice reaching a higher pitch. Kyle tried not to laugh as you practically squeaked. You always did it when you were nervous. "Making my life into the Handmaiden's Tale?"

He rolled his eyes at your over-exaggerated comparison. "To make sure you can't cum until I say so." He set the contraption down on the ibed before pulling out a small set of keys and a padlock out of the box as well.

Holy fuck. He was serious. "Since I can’t trust you when I’m not here, you’ll start wearing it when I have to go out.”

“Kyle, please.” You begged. It was no use. You had fucked up. Kyle could handle your brattiness. He loved having you over his knee, making your ass burn. But disobedience and being a little shit were two different things. He gave you a rule and you broke it. Plain and simple.

You had secretly hoped that he would just pull out the ginger root. Figging your poor little asshole until you were a crying, blubbering mess. The aftercare during such a session was so intense it almost made it worth it. Failing in comparison at the one he had just given you, although it was still wonderful.

But you had came without permission. Not only that, but you were strictly told NOT to touch yourself. A rule that you had broken time and time again.

You huff, but honestly the idea of being unable to do anything. Having to beg him…. You could already feel yourself getting wet. “Not now though, right?”

“Later” “Your punishment wasn’t finished.”

“How long would I have to wear it?” You asked, thinking maybe he’ll just

“Let’s start with five days.”

“FIVE?” You practically squeal. No way. There is absolutely no way you’ll be able to make it five days without something to give you some sort of stimulation between your thighs. Even if you had just come so many times it had quite literally made you sick. “Kyle, be reasonable.”

“This is me being reasonable.” He said, grabbing a light jacket from his wardrobe. “Do you think I got one of these last minute? Your lack of control is an issue I will be damned and determined to fix.” He retreated into the your closet with something to keep you warm. “Tell you what,” he said crossing his arms as you put it on. “Make it a week.”

“Kyle!” Your jaw fell open, ready to protest.

“Hush and let me finish.” He ordered, holding up a finger to pause any more interruptions. “One week straight. 24/7 . The belt stays on unless you need to shower or go to the bathroom. Make it a week with no complaints and I’ll give you a week where you don’t have to ask.”

Your ears had suddenly perked up. A week of being able to rub yourself absolutely raw without any repercussions.

“A week and after that I get a week where I can come anytime I want?” You clarified, not fully trusting his wording. "I can cum when you fuck me and when I masturbate. I'm allowed to masturbate?"

Your spew of words had him laughing. "You act like I'm a genie trying to trick you!"

"That's exactly what you are!" You argued, your tone now growing less appalled and more playful.

"Fine!" He sighed. "If you last a week, you can have a full week of absolute orgasmic freedom."

"Deal!" You held out your hand, waiting for the deal to be made before he could go back on his word.

As soon as the two of you had gotten home, Kyle had started the countdown. It felt weird. Definetly uncomfortable and something you weren't entirely sure you would get used to.

The next morning, Kyle was already down in the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your senses as you joined him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, smirking over the rim of his mug already knowing the answer.

"Fucking terrible." You huffed out. You had practically tossed and turned all night. He was almost tempted to take it off, but a deal is a deal. "This thing is so uncomfortable. It's like a pair of medieval panties."

"You tapping out after one night?" He asked, already knowing he should have made a counter off to your deal instead of simply it making it a challenge for you.

"Not a chance." You smiled, shooting him the same smile he was giving you. "But I think maybe a cup of coffee could help perk me up."

You kissed him as he handed you your own mug. Humming as his hand traveled to the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. Deepening the kiss until you were nearly breathless.

You had hoped next week's freedom would be worth it. It surely wasn’t right now as the chastity belt rubbed irritatingly against your core.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz #call of duty #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #smut #reader

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the-froschamethyst4 · 11 months ago

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Stuck In The Devils Arms

𖤐Pairing: Price x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, drinking, P in V, kissing/making out, age gap, blind dating, eating out, manhandling, praising, ass smacking, teasing, brat taming (?), groping, nipple play, aftercare,

𖤐Summary: When an Angel and Devil accidentally meet how will they handle each other

————

"Price is old," Soap says as him and all of Task Force sat in the mess hell.

"That was so fucking random," Gaz says.

"I mean, the man is single, no kids, lives alone, probably has a cat or something...I mean, have you guys ever hear him talk about his love life?"

"Probably for a good reason, Johnny." Ghost says.

"Does he even date?"

"If he did, we will never know," Graves says, sitting next to Soap.

"What are you poor bastards talking about?" Price asked, sitting between Ghost and Alex.

"Soap, is being nosy about your love life," Ghost said.

"My love life?" Price asked, sounding offended.

"Price, you are a single man, when's the last time you went on a date?" Soap asked him.

"I went on a date not too long ago."

"WITH WHO!?" Soap jumps up.

"Jesus, I'm not telling," Price says. "I don't want you finding her and asking her how I am in bed, you'll never know, Soap," Price smirks as everyone at the table laugh.

As Price was eating his attention was caught by a new recruit, she was young late 20's maybe 26-28? Somewhere around there. Price watched as her dark green shirt showing off her breasts and her pants sitting high on her hips.

The Military's pants were men sizes and didn't fit the ladies, so the only way to get them to fit was buckling them around their waists. She picked this trick up by her dormmates.

She carried a tray, her hair slicked back into a high ponytail. She walks pass the Task Force table sitting with a group of girls, she knows.

Price watches her not in a creepy way or anything, but she was cute, beautiful even.

"Price, I'm going to set you up with someone."

"Fuck that, I'll do it on my own."

"No, let me, I know someone," Soap smirks.

"I don't trust you," Price says.

"Yeah, you do, come on, one time, you will like her."

"Man-"

"Come on, Price, it's one time."

"FINE!"

"YES! I'll let her know, you said yes."

"Why the hell did I just get myself into?" Price asked, putting his hands on his face, dragging his fingers down his cheeks.

----------

That Night (8:00PM)

Price was wearing some dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt with a black and white flannel, this was a casual date, hell, they are meeting at a bar, nothing special.

He has a drink in his hands and was looking at the TV behind the bar watching the football game going on. The bar door opens and the person was greeted by the bartender.

Price turns his head and sees a girl, she had asked for a screwdriver and waited, she looked like she was looking for someone. Price didn't want to bother her just in case it was the wrong girl.

"Are you John Price?" She asked, he turns and looks at her, she was cute, a cute sun dress and her hair curled with light makeup.

"Yeah, I am...are you?"

"Y/n...I'm Soap's friend." She moved a bit closer to John and she put her hand out, he shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you," he says.

"Same."

"How you know, Soap?" Price asked her.

"Our parents know each other," she says with a smile. "He told me a lot about you," she was sweet, Price can tell. She was calm and her voice was like velvet, smooth and soft.

He wanted to hear her talk, he would listen to her forever!

"So, are you and Soap friends?" She asked.

"Kind of."

"What's kind of?"

"I mean, we talk and hang out...so I guess we are," he says. She just gives him a smile. His heart skipped a beat. Price hasn't felt like this about anyone in a long time, his first love cheated on him, and all he's been doing is sleeping around every now and then.

"How come you agreed to meet me, without knowing me first?" she asked. "Was it to get him off your back?" She giggles.

"A bit yeah."

"Yeah, Soap can be a bit much, he's done it to me a couple times," she says.

The night consist of them talking, they forgot about their drinks, and mainly started talking more then worried about their drinks. Y/n had gone to the bathroom and she trusted him with her drink alone.

Price kept the cup in his view and death stared anyone who dared get close to her drink. She came back, her hand touched his shoulders, letting him know she was back and not to freak out.

She sits back down and fixes her dress. "Thanks for watching my drink."

"Of course."

Price and Y/n talked and then he asked her. "Do you wanna...go back to my place?"

"If it's okay with you?" She asked, her fingers circled the rim of her glass.

"Of course, it is, come on," he gives the bartender his card paying for both his and Y/n's drinks.

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

Price opens his front door letting Y/n go in first. She takes off her flats and Price takes off his shoes and flannel.

"You want anything to eat?"

"Oh no, it's okay, you don't need to cook anything," she says.

"It's okay, come on, what do you want?" He asked, leaning over his marble counter as Y/n sat at the stool.

"Umm~ spaghetti?"

"Anything for the pretty girl," he smirks, giving Y/n butterflies.

Price was getting everything ready and Y/n walks to him and she washes her hand and helps Price.

"Can I help?"

"Sure," he smirks. He watches her pour the sauce into a pot and putting some water in the glass bottle shaking it to get the last bit of it and pouring it into the pot again.

He watches her, she was gentle, he stir the pot of tomatoes sauce. He grabs a knife and cutting board and starts chopping up mushrooms, green peppers, onions, and a few other things.

Y/n sat at the counter watching him with a glass of red wine between her hands. She watched at how skillful he was with a knife, she rests her chin on her palm as she was amazed by him and started to make small talk.

"So how long have you been in the Military?" She asked him.

"Since my twenties," he says with a smile.

"Wow...do you think you'll ever retire? Settle down with a family maybe?"

"Are you asking me, to start a family with you, miss Y/n?" Her face was red and she stood up straight.

"Eh-no...that's n-not what I-I meant, I was just wondering if you'll ever retire?"

"I don't have a plan to do so," he tells her.

"I understand...so when you're on your last leg," she cracks a joke on him.

"Wow! I will not. When I get married, and I have kids, then I'll retire till then I'm single, currently on a date with my Sergeants friend, who keeps...staring at me with her beautiful eyes," he says.

"John Price," she turns her head to avoid eye contact.

"They're pretty," he says.

She just shakes her head to try and hide her embarrassment. "You're just saying that," she says.

"I mean, I'm not wrong...Soap didn't say anything about those eyes of yours," Price says, leaning on the counter.

"I think my eyes are just fine," she giggles at him.

"...Can I kiss you?" He asked, bluntly.

"Price!” She was shocked.

“We don’t have to,” he says.

“No, it’s okay…” she gets off the stool and comes around the counter.

Her hand glides over the countertop and she looks up at him, her hand resting on his stomach before standing on her tippy toes to kiss him.

The kiss was soft and gentle, Price pulls away first and then picks up Y/n placing her on the counter, he stood between her legs cupping her face and giving her another kiss.

Her hands rested on his chest as they both hear the water sizzling on the stove top. Price turns and lowers the heat on the stove.

"Should we eat first?" He asked.

"If the old man needs his food first to have enough stamina," she teased him.

"I not that old, I'm 40 years old," he says with a pout.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," she says, cupping his face and getting another kiss from him.

"Fuck it," he pulls the noodles off the stove along with the sauce and picked Y/n back up and took her to the bedroom, she giggles knowing she struck a nerve.

"What are you giggling at?" He asks her.

"Just how you got so mad over a simple comment," she says, Price can feel the smirk from her.

"Oh yeah," he smacks her ass earning a soft squeal from her and her legs bending up. He chuckles at her. "How cute, you got such a bratty attitude but when I manhandle you that all goes away."

"Oh no, sir, this is only a treat," she says, her hands on his back sitting up but then she flopped on the soft mattress.

She giggles when she bounces up a couple times, and Price watched as she was now on her back, elbows propping herself up, and her right knee bending exposing a bit of her panties.

He smirks, crawling up her and kissing her lips. She smiles and kisses his lips. His hands went up her body, holding her waist before his left hand unzipped her dress, she pulls the straps off her shoulders and Price pulls it down off her body.

She giggles when Price starts kissing her ankle and kissing all the way back up to her exposed chest. His mouth attached to her right nipple and his fingers played with her other.

She let's out a soft moan, her hands going into his hair and her back arches against his body. Price sits up and removes his shirt and starts messing with his belt.

Just undoing the belt before going back to kiss her lips. Price's rough, calloused hands held her waist before he starts moving them downward pulling her panties off and then he grabs her thighs and moves them over his shoulders.

It's been a while since someone has done anything like this to Y/n. Soap had known about Y/n never really wanting a relationship but didn't mind a hook-up every now and then, but this...what her and Price are doing is something she could live with.

Price licks his lips before gently kissing her wet folds. His tongue licked between her folds and then soon his tongue was pushing inside of her. She squeezed her thighs together as she felt good from what Price was doing to her.

She looks at Price and made eye contact with the older man. He smirks before sucking on her clit and shaking his tongue back and forth earning a breathy moan from her lips.

Price likes hearing her moans, he soon tasted some pre-cum coming from her lower half, he smirks before removing his tongue which earned him a annoyed groan from Y/n, he taps the side of her butt.

"Flip," he demands, he removes his pants as he stares at Y/n's ass as she flips over. He smirks before bending down and biting at her ass, she looks over her shoulder mouth opened letting out a soft and satisfied moan.

he moves a pillow under her lower half as he positions himself at her entrance and pushing inside of her. She puts her head back, her head hit against his broad shoulder. She looks in his eyes and lets out a few satisfied moans.

He was thrusting fast, he wasn't sloppy, kind of professional in a way, like he knew what he was doing. Y/n felt him hit against her spot a few times.

"You're doing so well," he praises. "You look so cute with your eyes really in the back of your head," he says.

"P-Price-" she was cut off by his lips on hers and she moans into the kiss.

"Those pretty eyes...rolling back...looking at me...they are so fucking intoxicating," he says with a smirk on his face before kissing her neck, he thrusts became harder, rougher even, the loud smacking of skin against each other filled the room.

His tip was throbbing wanting to cum inside of her, she squeezes around him when the feeling of wanting to cum filled her body, Price and her both moaned before they ended up coming together.

Price keeps going, he doesn't want this night to end just yet. he was going to keep going to prove that he isn't just some 'old man'. He smirks when seeing Y/n's face buried into the pillow, her moans muffled and her legs shaking.

price smirks knowing that her little comment is eating her. His hands rested on her waist guiding her to keep going faster, cause he wasn't done just yet.

As he was moving faster, Y/n's lovely moans being muffled and her eyes carrying some hot tears, not of pain but of pleasure. She loves this feeling probably more than Price.

"One more, love. I know you can cum one more fucking time," he demands.

He was sloppy with his thrusts again, and the sound of skin clapping, and sounds of something wet and sticky filled the room. She did what he asked her to do and that was to cum once more and she did.

Price smirks and pulls out of her, cum rushes from her lower half.

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

Price was plating up the food, yes, he reheated it up. Y/n came downstairs in some shorts and a t-shirt that belonged to price.

"John, the shorts," she lets go of the shorts and they immediately drop to her ankles. "They don't fit," she says as Price laughs.

"Okay, you don't have to wear them," she steps out of them and temporarily places them on the back of his couch. She sits at the table as price gave her the plate and then goes back to get her a glass of water.

Y/n and Price ate and talked and by the end of it, she was being carried back upstairs to the bedroom to join Price. He places her on the side facing the closet door and he laid near the door.

"You get some rest okay?"

"Okay...good night."

"Night," he cups her face before holding her close to his chest.

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

"Kids are confirmed," Soap says as he sits next to Price at the mess hall.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Price says.

"Y/n told me what you two did-"

"Is she pregnant?"

"Price, that's not how it works, it'll take time before that happens, and not only that, Y/n's on birth control, she wouldn't stop taking it for a stranger."

"She would for me," Price says, raising his eyebrows and sipping from his tea.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #price x y/n #price x you #captain john price #price x reader #cod price #john price #captain price #price

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sstormyskyess · 1 year ago

Text

Bad Attitude

[had to repost this bad boy because it got shadowbanned when i first posted it 👍 thanks tumblr!]

author's note: simon is def a brat tamer, like he's all sweet and soft until you really get on his nerves. had to write it because it was living in my head rent-free

cw: drinking mention, smut, pwp, bottom sub!reader, dom top!ghost, brat!reader, brat taming, enemies to lovers, brief choking mention, edging/orgasm denial, light bondage/bdsm, dacryphilia [if i missed anything lmk!]

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN AFAB!Reader "Streak"

“Admit it. You’ve always sort of liked me.” You smirk behind the rim of your glass of bourbon. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose and suppresses a metric fuckton of pointed comments he’s been holding in all night. All he wanted was to have a nice night at his favorite pub in the entire country, but no. You and your bratty little antics had to follow him wherever he went.

“I dunno, Streak, sometimes I wonder if he even likes me. I don’t think your chances are much better, mate.” Johnny chuckles after setting down your next round of drinks, catching the tail end of the conversation. You shrug and lean back in the booth cushions, quickly tossing back the last of your drink. “I mean hey, I might be prettier than you, Soap. That might affect things.” You snicker at the offended look on his face and he started to speak before you cut him off with a quippy, “Thanks for the drink!”

Simon just starts to tune you out when you and Johnny start to bicker. He won’t dignify you with a response; You're too dedicated to pissing him off that it's clear a reaction was exactly what you're seeking out. So, he turns to the TV across the room and focuses on the football game that was playing. His favorite team wasn’t playing though. Well, anything would be better than the little prick—you—sitting next to him.

He barely knows what's going on in the game even after watching for a few more minutes, but he's was broken out of his thousand-yard stare when he's met with your ass scooting right past his face as you shuffle out of the booth. His eyes shoot up to yours and all you offer is a tiny shrug. “What? You wouldn’t get up for me to go to the bathroom.” Simon makes sure to take note of the smirk on your face. You aren't even trying to hide your intentions. A barely audible growl passes Simon’s lips through his mask.

Johnny chuckles and stands up. “Well, I’m gonna go cut in on that match. Have fun with Streak!” He walks off to the billiards table and pokes Gaz in the side, making him mess up his shot. Simon rolls his eyes and leans forward on the table on his forearms. He contemplates for a few minutes before he notices how long you've been gone. He looks over to the restrooms and, making sure he was unseen by the rest of the boys, makes his way over.

When he opens the door, he spots you leaning against the wall, scrolling on your phone. “Oh, hey L.T.! How can I help you?” You snicker and look back down to your phone. Simon stalks over and smirked under his mask when your eyes widen at the close proximity. “Hey!” You jump when Simon snatched the phone out of your hands and pocketed it. “What the hell, man? Give that back—” Simon’s hand wraps around your wrist when you reached around him to get your phone back out of his pocket. He yanks you closer and you collide with him, face pressed into his chest.

Simon’s grip tightened. “Fuckin’ brat. Don’t whine now.” You scoff and tug against his grip. “What’s your problem?” You sneer at him. Simon rolls his eyes and snatches your other wrist before pinning them above your head on the wall. “I’m not daft, Streak.” He growls. “I know what you want.” You struggle a bit against the vice grip around your wrists and huff.

“And what exactly would that be, Ghost?”

You growl past the ball gag stuffed behind your teeth and wiggle in the leather restraints wrapped around your arms, all the way up to your elbows. You were grateful, at least, that your captor had put some forethought into the nature of your imprisonment. Plain rope was rough and scratchy compared to these nice leather wrappings. Luckily your captor was understanding and attentive to your needs. At least, most of them.

Simon hovers over you, who he laid out over the bedsheets. He chuckles when he receives a very pointed glare from his precious little sergeant. The way he reveled in the shivers that were running up and down your spine downright infuriated you. You’ve been laying here in this bed for upwards of thirty minutes getting teased and toyed with, with no end in sight. There was an absolute mess between your legs and it was soaking both the sheets and the pants that Simon still had on, despite you being completely laid bare.

You start to struggle again, even though you know that you weren't getting out. Really, at this point, you're only trying to find any friction to get yourself off on. Simon squints down at you. “What did I tell you about squirmin’ around like that?” His voice comes out as a growl in his uniquely deep timbre. “Still haven't learned your lesson yet, hmm?” He shakes his head and spreads your thighs further, even though you've practically been doing the splits for a while now.

You jump and let out a high pitched yelp that was muffled behind the ball gag. For what feels like the millionth time, Simon’s hand comes down hard on your cunt. The wet slap that pierces the air nearly brings tears to your eyes, but for the sake of your pride you could not and would not cry. Not for this asshole.

The fact that you’d ended up in this situation would still be baffling you if your mind wasn’t fully focusing on the sting between your legs. Should you have stopped goading Simon on at the pub he’d taken the gang out to? Yeah, probably. Should you have told him to cut it out when he followed you to the bathroom to shove his tongue down your throat? That might have been for the best, yes. But god damn, you’d be lying if you said you weren't having a good time right now. As much as you hate it, you love it so much.

Though, honestly, you certainly weren’t expecting Simon to pull out all the stops and give you the full brat taming treatment. When you got dragged back to his flat, you were immediately bombarded with bites and hickeys all over your neck and shoulders, before he even got you to the bedroom. His calloused hands had shoved you down on the bed and before you knew it, all of your clothes were torn off and thrown all over the floor, leaving you naked. In the process of trying to get your bearings, you completely neglected to keep track of what your lieutenant was up to. When you got flipped onto your stomach and restrained by these accursed leather straps, you finally snapped back to reality and found yourself pinned.

And now, for the past half hour, you’ve been getting edged over and over again to the point of utter frustration. Hot, burning frustration that was getting more and more pent up as the minutes dragged on. Even after you spent all damn night pestering him, Simon was still able to drag all of this out as long as possible, much your dismay. You’d love to say you were surprised by his abundance of patience, but you really weren't. Must be something that comes with that lieutenant rank of his.

Drool pools on your tongue and out of your mouth as you whine. You whine and whine, to no avail. If you were able, you’d be growling out so many expletives, so many things that would absolutely get you a formal punishment if you two weren’t on leave. You manage to hold back the desperate urge to kick at Simon’s chest and wipe that smug little look off his face, but only just barely. You force your muscles to tighten to stop yourself from squirming involuntarily, and you flex even harder when his fingers sweep across your cunt and dip into your tight little hole ever so slightly.

You almost choke on your own spit when you shuddered out a long, needy moan. Your legs instinctively try to close, but he's quick to hold them in place. He clicks his tongue and pulls his fingers out again, eliciting a whimper from the back of your throat. You're quietly grateful for the gag, knowing that if it wasn’t there, all your little submissive noises would be on display for him to hear. You would absolutely never be able to live that down; the embarrassment would be too much for you to handle.

“I told you to quit movin’ around.” He sneers. You squeeze your eyes shut and nodded quickly. When you open them back up, you're met with Simon’s face hovering closer over yours. Your eyes open wider when Simon’s hand creeps up over your chest, twirling one of your nipples between his fingers. They move up and up, over your collarbone before settling around your neck to squeeze at it. Your toes positively curled, a whine slipping past the gag and directly to Simon’s ears, forming a smirk on his face.

Your eyes flutter as the blood supply in your head slowly diminishes and a string of weak, breathless moans make it past the gag. With the added pressure on your senses, you can't manage to hold back the tears anymore. Tears and spit pearl down your face and you meet Simon’s eyes with your own glassy ones. You desperately lock your legs around Simon’s waist, wordlessly begging him to just let you cum—you needed to cum so bad.

He tilts his head and drags the edges of his nails from your scalp to the back of your neck comfortingly. “Poor fuckin’ thing. You need this cock, huh?” He smirks at how fast you nod, proud to have finally broken you. He lets your neck go, at least for now, and uses both of his hands to spread your cunt open wide. “What a view. Never seen you like this, Streak.” He chuckles. You whine and try to grind against his fingers, looking at him with your desperate, teary eyes. Another sob leaves your chest when Simon pushes three of his fingers deep inside you, and they had you fighting the urge to arch up into his touch. It took everything in you, and you could feel your muscles tiring at how hard you clenched, but you hold on for fear of making him stop.

Simon pinches at and rolls your clit between his fingers, and you are a goner. You stood absolutely no chance. The gag was a smart idea on Simon’s end; if not for the gag, your screams would’ve netted him a noise complaint. Simon groans as he watches you writhe from your earth-shattering orgasm. “That’s a good little thing for me, fuckin’ hell…” He stares down at you while he rubs you through your orgasm, leaning down to your ear and whispering all sorts of praises with a grin on his face.

There were just so many wet sounds in the room that were absolutely filthy. The squelching of your sopping cunt, your quiet sniffling, and the ‘pop!’ of the ball gag being flipped out of your mouth. Simon puts a sloppy kiss on your lips, pressing your tongues against each other. All he receives a tired hum from you, since you're unable to do much more than that with your brain having been turned into mush from his ministrations. So much for saving your pride, huh?

Simon pulls back and takes a good look over you. You were a complete mess. Job well fucking done, he thinks to himself. You blink the tears out of your eyes and stare up at him for a few seconds before laying your head back on the pillows and closing them back up again. You wince and groan when Simon tapped your face. “Who said we were done, love? We’ve got a lotta time to make up for.” He chuckles darkly when he watches your pretty little eyes widen once again.

author's note 2: was considering making a part two for this so if that's something y'all would be interested in, lemme know!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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prettyoatmeal · 2 years ago

Text

Miss Oat's CoD x Reader Masterlist!

UPDATED: 15/12/2024

Latest Post Here

Welcome to the masterlist! Here you can access my most recent post, the date the masterlist has been updated, and every single one of my previous works! Happy scrolling <3

Smut/Explicit Content = ❤️‍🔥

Fluff = 💞

Hurt/Comfort = 💔

***************

Multiple Characters

TF141 and How They'll Hold Your Hand 💞

TF141 and How They'd React to Reader Asking to Peg Them 💞❤️‍🔥

TF141 Taking Care of Sick Reader 💞

COD Characters Reacting to Reader Asking to Peg Them 💞❤️‍🔥

Ghost and Johnny Fingering You 💞❤️‍🔥

TF141 with an Australian Reader 💞

König

Confessing Feelings 💞

There's a First Time for Everything ❤️‍🔥

The Scars 💔💞

König Headcanons While You're Dating 💞❤️‍🔥

Soaked Thighs ❤️‍🔥

Love to Hate Each Other 💔❤️‍🔥

Just A Giggly Mood ❤️‍🔥

Apology Accepted 💔💞

General Headcanons 💞

Loving You Can't Wait 💞

Horndog König Drabble 💞❤️‍🔥

Slapping König While Riding Him 💞❤️‍🔥

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Simon 'Ghost' Riley Headcanons While You're Dating 💞❤️‍🔥

Wet Spot ❤️‍🔥

Just The Way You Like It ❤️‍🔥

Staring Problem ❤️‍🔥

Shouldn't Have Shared ❤️‍🔥

FWB!Simon Drabble 💞

We're Just Friends 💔

Physical Affection Drabble 💞

Acts of Service Drabble 💞

Clingy Drabble 💞

Simon Crying During Sex Drabble 💞❤️‍🔥

Dad Bod Drabble 💞

Bimbo Reader Picking Simon up When He’s Tipsy 💞

Caught By Johnny Sucking Him Off 💞❤️‍🔥

Mummy's Boy Drabble 💞❤️‍🔥

Soft Sex with Simon 💞❤️‍🔥

Finding Out Simon is a Natural Brunette 💞

John 'Soap' MacTavish

John 'Soap' Mactavish While You're Dating 💞

Oral Fixation Drabble 💞❤️‍🔥

Eating You Out From Behind Drabble ❤️‍🔥

Free Use with Johnny ❤️‍🔥

Captain John Price

John Price Headcanons While You're Dating (Part 1) 💞

John Price Headcanons While You're Dating (Part 2) 💞❤️‍🔥

That Damned Attitude of Yours ❤️‍🔥

Brat Taming Drabble 💞❤️‍🔥

#könig headcanons #call of duty #Konig x reader #König x reader #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Simon Riley x Reader #Ghost x Reader #John Price x Reader #Captain John Price x Reader #Simon Riley Headcanons #John Price Headcanons #mw2 x reader headcanons

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cybercl0ne · 1 year ago

Note

can you please do brat taming with two masked men

Brat taming (200 follower special) // Ghost + Soap x NB!Reader // 18+

I gotchu my sweet, sweet anon 😇 (They/Them pronouns used)

Summary: For the last few weeks Ghost has been acting strange and finally shows you why and how to behave with a little bit of help.

TW: Anal, oral, giving/receiving, DP, Slapping, pounding, edging, minor degradation

A/N at the bottom!!!

You sat at the bar, sipping your smooth yet hard liquor, pondering on your last mission with your lieutenant.

Ghost was already acting off when you sat on the plane, talking to soap. His banter halted when Ghost grunted obnoxiously loud. “Focus on the mission Johnny.” He spat, shifting his stance to gaze at you. You scoffed, thinking Ghost just lived to ruin everything fun. He’d gruff and rumble when you and Soap would announce quietly that you were going out for drinks, or if Price would pay your shoulder just a little too long, his calloused fingers fathered on your vest. He’d talk your ear off if you’d walk out of your quarters to go to Farah‘s room. When Ghost walked into the bar, locking eyes with you, you assumed tonight would be no different. You watched from the side of your eyes as Ghost approached, sitting down a couple seats away, yet making his bearing presence known by penetrating his gaze into your face. You sigh, deciding to get to the bottom of his ruthless judgement over you. You’d never see the smirk on Ghost’s face when you travel over to him, his eyes stuck on your tempered face, agitated yet confused. He loved that look the most. “Soldier?” He grudged. You rolled your eyes, your hips swaying to one side.

“I assume you’re here to bombard me about drinking to?” You sass, looking at how he held himself, swinging his bourbon around, his devious mask still glued to his face. He didn’t respond, only grunting deeply like usual. You chuckle, sitting down next to him. “Why drink this stuff? It’s disgusting.” You claimed, tapping the table as you stared his drink. He lifted it to his jaw, unfolding his mask just enough to sip the drink. You watched in awe at the chiseled jawline, his stubble beard and his bulging hands. He catches your blunt eyes and laughs, showing his oddly sharp teeth.

“Bourbons the good stuff. Tells you about your age by how well you take it.” He jokes, taking pricks at you. You scoff. “Har, Har.” You jokingly smile, resting your arms on the table, nearly forgetting why you came over to him in the first place. You decide to pay your tab, tipping your lieutenant a goodnight, stepping out of the packed bar. You stand outside, grabbing a cigarette, deciding that if you didn’t use one now, Price would catch you using one again at the quarters.

Before you’re able to light it, a force snatched your cancer stick from your lips. You snarl, looking at the perpetrator. When you see its Ghost, you smack your tongue, putting the lighter away. “Not a smoker, huh?” You cough, looking up at the looming eyes of parental disappointment. You chuckle at the memory of that glare, seeing him place the cigarette on the muddy floor, squeezing it under his heavy-duty boots. “I know you’re aware it’s not good for you kid. Also not supposed to be doin’ it here anyway.” Ghost grunts. You scoff, feeling put on the spot. Soap pops up out of the bar, stumbling lightly until he spots the both of you.

“Hey LT, you and y/n taking a peek at Prices new ride to?” He says oblivious. You cross your arms, tempered. Ghost visibly looks at Soap confused. “No, I was just highlighting on how big of a dick someone’s being right now.” You slyly slip in, moving past the both of them. You stomp your way back to your room, still visioning Ghost’s eyes on you as you storm off.

As you get ready for bed you hear your door knock with ominous. You go to answer it, cooled down and clean with a warm shower, the steam flowing off of you. “Soap? What are you doing out of your quarters?” You asked, opening the door for him, casually looking at him as he sat on your bed, his eyes staring at you in a different light that you couldn’t see. For the moment he ignored that you were in just a towel. “Y/n what’s your deal with LT?” He questioned, his voice neutral and curious. You were taken aback by his sudden question, blinking. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the fact that he treats me like an insignificant child, or that he can’t stand to be around me without taunting me?” You clap back, crossing your arms, the remembrance of what happened just a few minutes ago, bubbling up irritation. Your ranting is broken by Soap’s sudden movement. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Y/n from what I hear you’ve been out of line.” He says, approaching you slowly. Before you could react with a sassy retort Ghost busts through the door, closing it behind him, focusing his pure attention on his small little lamb in front of him. Tonight, he had a mission.

As you get ready for bed you hear your door knock with ominous. You go to answer it, cooled down and clean with a warm shower, the steam flowing off of you.

“Soap? What are you doing out of your quarters?” You asked, opening the door for him, casually looking at him as he sat on your bed, his eyes staring at you in a different light that you couldn’t see. For the moment he ignored that you were in just a towel. “Y/n what’s your deal with LT?” He questioned, his voice neutral and curious. You were taken aback by his sudden question, blinking. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the fact that he treats me like an insignificant child, or that he can’t stand to be around me without taunting me?” You clap back, crossing your arms, the remembrance of what happened just a few minutes ago, bubbling up irritation. Your ranting is broken by Soap’s sudden movement. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Y/n from what I hear you’ve been out of line.” He says, approaching you slowly. Before you could react with a sassy retort Ghost busts through the door, closing it behind him, focusing his pure attention on his small little lamb in front of him. Tonight, he had a mission.

“Oh y/n, see me and Johnny had a little chat. You’re not easy to work with, but now. Now I know how to fix that.” Ghost says, the boys closing in on you as you back up into a wall, confused and nervous. You could feel your mind drifting, your body feeling warmer.

“W-What are you two up to? Is this some kind of pr-“before you could finish Soap smashed into your lip, guiding you out of your comforting wall. Ghost follows closely behind, groping your ass, smirking at you. “W-What the hell guys! S-stop this!” You shout, sitting up on the bed after Ghost pushes you down on it. They look at each other and laugh. Your mouth sits open, gritting your teeth, before you speak, your face gets met with a hardy slap, the laugh, watching as you react. “You’re not in control anymore, pet.” Soap expressed, watching Ghost lay you back down, straddling your waist. Soap goes beside you, unzipping his pants eagerly.

“I found a great solution to get you to behave love, figured what you need is a good dick to fuck you into submission.” Ghost gruffly smirked, pulling off your towel roughly. You started screaming empty threats, trying to cover yourself. Soap and Ghost’s hungry eyes trailed all around your body, Soap pinning your hands above you as he tapped his cock on your lips. You grunted, shoving your mouth away from his twitching member. Ghost tsk’d loudly, sending a surging slap to your face again, you could feel the burning warmth of the slap, looking at ghost with fiery eyes. “That ought to bruise nicely. Now baby, get to sucking.” Soap chastised, tapping his heavy cock on your lips, you muttered a curse under your breath before taking the giant meat into your mouth, stretching to adjust to his size.

Ghost laughed, shifting his pants from his dick as it got uncomfortable in his boxers. “I can tell you want the same treatment~ don’t worry, I can be fair doll.” Ghost implied, kissing down your body, taking at your nipples, watching you squirm and groan at the touch. “Don’t talk with your mouth full darlin’ you’ll choke.” Ghost said deeply, sending your stomach into flips. You moan at his gaze, while flipping your attention to soap, watching him moan and bob your head as he loosely shoved his cock further down.

Ghost continued his journey down your body, stopping at your crotch. He wasted no time in slurping at you, not waiting to dig his tongue deep onto you. You wriggled under his mouth, closing your eyes, with your body being ravened. “Our little bunny’s getting overwhelmed by getting eaten and being stuffed.” Soap concludes, pumping in your mouth faster. You moan loudly, vibrating his vigorous cock, causing it to twitch.

“Are you gonna cum?” Ghost questions, stopping his motions to look at you, your eyes hazy and hanging low, while your lower half is damn near demolished in your own slick. “Naughty, I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Ghost monologues, you shift your hips, trying to tempt him back to permitting you his service. “They might not cum, but I’m about to-“ Soap interrupts, spraying his cum inside your mouth. You choke on his squirting cock, feeling your mouth get stuffed with his hot semen. Soap slowly pulls out his cock, tapping his overstimulated tip on your nose to open your mouth. “Open wide for me.” Soap demands, grabbing your face with minor force.

You still had a fiery glint in your eyes, still heating with lust. Soap raises his hand, scaling over you as a threat. You reluctantly open your mouth, displaying the load that he’d packed into your mouth. “Good..now I think you know what I want you to do darlin.” Soap slaps your chin, closing your mouth again, staring at you until he sees your throat bob, taking his cum down like a shot. Ghost watches intently, occasionally petting your bits. You swallow instinctively, pulling your attention to Ghost who smiled, his mask nearly off, yet you couldn’t depict him. “Beg me to cum. Beg for it.” Ghost smiled, playing with you, arising a heated moan from you. You shook your head, your glow of defiance, ever present. “Drop dead.” You explain, still embarrassingly wriggling to create some movement.

Ghost grunts, a scowl forming on his face. Soap chuckles along. “Uh oh. A little worldly advice, if you want to make it out of here in one piece, I’d beg.” You scoffed at his passive threat, watching Ghost closely and unsure. Ghost came to where Soap was, exchanging a single glance at each other before bluntly shoving his cock inside your mouth. Your eyes grew big, your mouth suddenly intruded. Your muffled protest were received with a hard laugh from the boys, Soap following behind ghost in action, rubbing his bare cock on your hole.

Your eyes trained on Soap's watching as he cooed his lips, clicking his tongue at your expression. "W-wait!-" Before you could even gurgle the sentence, Soap shoved into you with force, the instant clenching around him making him wriggle deeper into you. You arched our back, tears foaming into your eyes. Ghost tsk'd, his gaze never leaving your pearly eyes, glossed with pleasure and minor pain.

"Should've just been a good pet and begged." Ghost grunted, matching Soap's thrusting pattern. Soap chuckles, slapping his balls harder against your ass, his hands finding your chest, leaning on them for stability as he lifts your leg up, finding a better position to rock his cock inside you. You roll your eyes back, moaning into Ghost girthy cock, feeling each vein that twitched harder with each thrust through your pretty mouth. Overstuffed in both holes, you feel yourself drawing closer. You rock your hips as Soap starts pounding you harder, Ghost going along and full-on grabbing your head and bobbing you, thrashing your throat.

As you saw white small clouds you hear a sudden 'pop' from your lower half, feeling the rush of cold air instead of a full, steamed cock plowing you. Ghost smirks, pulling out of your mouth, his cock dribbled in precum and your precious spit.

"You missed your chance to cum before, best not to repeat love." Ghost grunted, slapping his moist cock on your cheek, your lips quivered with the hefty decision. You felt your face heat from sexual frustration and the need to release the tension that was inches away from exploding. "Go on, beg little one. Unless you want this to keep going...edging you each time, pulling out of you and watching your mind fight itself on an easy problem." Soap pestered, leaning into your face, licking up your cheek, meeting your eyes. He softly kisses your lips, Ghost gripping your breast, coming up the other side of your face, peppering it in hot kisses. You felt him leave massive hickeys on your neck, licking it after he'd tortured that part of your neck.

"F-fine! P-please..." You mumble. The boys shared a glance at each other, not satisfied. "What?! I begged, n-now keep going!" You demanded, rubbing your hips into their crotch, pacing your head back and forth from them.

"That's not good enough, and you know it love. Tell us what you want. Say it so me and Soap can fuck you stupid." Ghost inquired, whispering in your ear, gripping your chin, protruding your lips to mimic you. "Say it with those pretty, slutty lips." Soap adds, slapping your chest.

"God please! Please stick your cock inside my holes! Stuff me full of your warm cum!" You shout, humping your hips into Soap's twitching cock. Ghost smiles darkly, instantly kissing your lips before burring his cock back where it belongs, inside your mouth. Ghost groans upon reentering. His hot flesh meeting your acute mouth. Soap leads close behind, backing his rock-hard dick inside you. He seethes at your hole inviting him in, begging for him to pound you harder.

"Just like that~ Your so good y/n, takin' us so well." Soap says, rubbing your stomach as he pounds harder. You grip onto the sheets under you, feeling the current of the thrusting from both of the men, feeling yourself feeling drunk on cock. You sucked and prodded at Ghost member, hearing him moan over you. Soap grips your hips, slamming into your hips lustfully, like a dog in heat.

"Oh shit- I-I'm gonna cum! What do you say LT? Should we fill this brat up?" Soap banters, grunting in between. Ghost groans, rolling his head. He doesn't respond, only grunting in approval.

"Cum. Cum you little slut!" Ghost demanded, giving his final shove before unloading his cock full of warm milk inside your mouth, Soap peering behind, shoving his cock deep inside you, unleashing his sticky load. You arched your back, the feeling of both of their cum dripping down your stuffed holes driving you over the edge and sending you into a much-needed climax. You held your mouth open, showing Ghost his mess in your mouth, your eyes peeled to his reaction. You swallowed, cum drunk.

"Good fucking pet." Ghost soothed, kissing your lips, tasting himself and the mixing flavors of you on his tongue. The rushing feeling traveling through your head, and down your shaking legs. Ghost walks around the bed, grabbing water. Soap lifts you up, peppering your sweat, fucked out face in kisses. When Ghost came back, he gave you the water, Soap sitting up and taking out a cigarette.

"Hey! how come it's ok for him to smoke?!" You shouted, Soap continuing as he lit his stick. "Cause I'm not into Johnny." Ghost grumbled, caressing your cheek. You stared at him, lightly fuming. "Ouch LT, guess I shouldn't confess." Soap laughs, slipping his pants and military shirt on before getting up. Ghost grunts toward Soap, not verbally thanking him. Soap sighs content. "Glad I could help LT. See ya' tomorrow Y/n." Soap says, closing the door behind him.

Ghost slides into bed, clutching you and dragging you to him, his boxer fabric rubbing against you, his limb dick, pricking your ass. "Never knew you could be so docile and submissive when you beg." Ghost smugly complimented. You jabbed him in the abdomen, hearing him let out a dry laugh. "Just don't fucking do it again!" You pouted lightly, nuzzling into the big rock.

"We'll see love."

{------------------------}

AN:) I wanted to just thank you all for getting me this far and I promise I'll have a better follower special when we reach that milestone! <3!

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 2 years ago

Text

where Simon teaches you a lesson

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

WARNINGS: established situationship. smut. 18+ only.

LENGTH: 3.6k

Simon Riley tames a brat.

< Prev Part || Next Part >

_____

You’ve never taken rejection well.

Not when you were younger, where your privilege as the only child ensured you were spoiled rotten, being denied something as foreign to you as having to ask for the same thing twice.

And you’re not good at rejection now, where your career gives you full control of a kitchen, and either your word goes or the person disobeying does.

Simon’s not usually in the habit of denying you either—there’s nothing between the two of you anymore, not masks, nor inhibitions—and lately, it feels like he goes out of his way to make you delirious with joy, keep you elated.

Things have never been better between the two of you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier.

So when he does deny you, you retaliate in the only way you know how.

____

You don’t know how you’re supposed to stop yourself from doing it. Pushing him.

You’ve fought and argued and made up with him enough times to know that—most of all, more than anything—he needs space. He’s not like you, he doesn’t like to talk about things, it’s not what he knows. And still you find yourself pushing him all the time, fire in your words, sparks flying wildly from your eyes.

A stranger looking at his posture would say that he isn’t even aware of you; he sits at the bar, his drink in front of him, his focus seemingly entirely on his companion who speaks in low, hushed tones.

(You can guess who the companion is by the mohawk. Johnny. Soap.)

But Simon’s eyes meet yours quite a bit over the course of the evening. He may appear disinterested, but his head is tilted towards you slightly, and you can tell that he is not happy with you. And though when his eyes meet yours they are cold with icy fury, all you feel is heat licking up your spine.

Who is it? Let me meet him!

No.

Why?

Because I said so.

But I work there!

I said. No.

But you push him anyway.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s easy to plan. It’s not like your staff can deny the head chef a table at her own restaurant.

You sit not too far away from where the boys sit at the bar—you’re directly in Simon’s line of sight—but you keep your head down. You enjoy your meal, compliment the front of house staff for their service and attention, and keep your attention on your drink and the book in front of you.

The book you’ve been trying to read for the whole time you’ve been here, but every time your eyes flick up to his he’s watching you, and that makes it very very hard to concentrate.

An hour and a half into this and you’re very uncomfortable, the wetness soaking your underwear a constant reminder of how much you want him, how much your body anticipates how he’s going to ruin you for your insolence. You can’t help but feel like he chose this place for a reason—all the restaurants in the city, and he chose this one. Where you work.

For someone who doesn’t want you to know or have anything to do with his professional life, the man is a contradiction, walking a thin line between wanting privacy and being a fucking tease. Almost like he wants to test you, wants you to crash and burn.

He certainly enjoys punishing you for your misbehaviour.

And…you can’t say you’re particularly concerned about having failed his test. Historically, you’ve greatly enjoyed being the beneficiary of his attention when he’s in a mood like this.

____

Johnny doesn’t stay long, leaving with a wide smile on his face and a pat on Simon’s back. Before he leaves though, his eyes search the floor of the seating area, darting amongst the guests before they finally land on you. He leans down to say something to Simon, who doesn’t respond. You freeze when you realise he’s obviously talking about you, his smile widens, and you even get a cheeky wave.

Goddamn. You forget sometimes that the man you love and the people he surrounds himself with are elite soldiers, the best at what they do. They find people who don’t want to be found for a living. And it’s not like you’ve been trying to be subtle by any definition of the word—you’ve been making fuck me eyes at Simon all night.

When you’ve got as much liquid courage in your system as you can stand for the evening, you get up, your purse placed neatly over your shoulder. The walk out the door with his icy eyes at your back is quick but quiet. You know enough by now to know that if he didn’t want you to know he was following you, you wouldn’t. Still, he lets you hear him as he walks behind you a few paces, and you lead him to a small alley adjacent to the restaurant.

It’s dark and quiet, tucked away from the rest of the street, and if there wasn’t a tank of muscle at your back—your personal bodyguard—you wouldn’t be here by yourself.

You finally turn around to face him, your back against the wall, and take a deep breath. He stands in front of you, big and intimidating, a street light partly silhouetting his frame, making him look even larger than he is. All 6ft 4 inches of him focused on you.

His hand comes up to your jaw, a warm finger grazing your bottom lip, and he leans forward slightly, making you crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

“What did I say, sweet girl?”

His voice is low, gravelly. He’s pissed off, but unlike usual, his fury doesn’t burn. It’s frozen over. A pit of tar, oppressive and overwhelmingly dark.

“I didn’t do anything.” You challenge, your neck held high. Your reasons might be hollow, but you’re determined to see this through. “I’ve just been sat at my table, eating my food. I run that place, I’m allowed to be there.”

“On the night I’m there wi’ Johnny?”

“Any night of the week I want.” You still don’t back down. “Why’d you tell him about me anyway? You didn’t have to.”

“Mm,” he whispers, leaning down to press warm lips to your neck. The feeling raises goosebumps. “Didn’t have to. He knows.”

“Knows what–,” you whisper, but the rest of your words are drowned by your harsh gasp, when his hand makes its way down and under the waistband of your skirt. His hand skirts under, coming to a rest on your panties, just above your cunt.

“Saw a picture once. He knows.” The emphasis makes you pause. Saw what picture? “What did I say?” he repeats, and the harsh growl in his words makes you gush. You know he feels it in the way your hips jerk forward instinctively, twitchy and restless, eager for friction. And you know he knows it, because his fingers twitch against you.

“You s-said you didn’t want me to meet them, any of ‘em…” you murmur, and he hums in agreement. His fingers continue their slow, torturous movement over your ruined underwear, tracing your cunt, until the heat of the fabric is almost indistinguishable from your burning skin. God you’re wet enough to make his fingers prune through the fabric.

“N’ why’d I say that?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, and you’re left floundering. Shit. Is this a trick question? “Assumed it was safety thing and–”

“Wrong.”

“Wh-why did you say it?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t.” You push his hand away from you, suddenly tired of this line of conversation. “It’s not like you fucking tell me anything.”

He lets you go easily, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping away from you, casually leaning against the opposite wall. His head tilts in silent question, and he just watches you for a moment. “You’re angry. Why?”

“Why? Why? I…I fucking came here to get your attention. Fucking everything I do—everything I’ve done for the past two years—is to get your attention. Least you can do is— ”

“What, exactly?” He stands even taller, somehow looming over you, even from three feet away. “What’s the least I can do?”

The sardonic tone incenses you more than anything. “Simon. I’m trying to have a conversation with you. Stop.”

“Or what?”

“Simon,” you warn.

“Or. What, pet? What are you going to do?”

“Fuck you,” you try again, but in a blur of a moment you’re kissing him. He crowds your senses, overwhelming you with the feeling of his hands moving over your back, filling you with the taste of scotch on his breath.

“You want to?” Simon murmurs, the amusement in his beautiful green eyes only discernible to you because you know them so well. He holds your face between his large hands, cradles your jaw so gently, and even through your irritation, you can’t help but lean into his touch. “Is that what you want?”

“I–I don’t…you can’t…” you trail off. He keeps silent, just staring at you, and you can only imagine that he is so blown away by your way with the English language right now, that you’ve quite literally rendered him speechless. “W-we need to–” you try again, but this time, he doesn’t let you speak.

His tongue licks deep into your mouth, discovering and exploring its contours, making you wetter than you thought was possible from just kissing, and then he’s pushing you away so quickly that you feel the cold brick wall against your cheek before your body really registers what’s happening.

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl. Right here, where anyone could see. That’ll teach you to listen.”

The brick is cold and rough against the sensitive skin of your cheek, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of showing your uneasiness. It only seems to spur him on when you stop wriggling against him, and grind your ass back into his crotch.

You watch from the periphery of your vision as his hand comes up slowly—hesitant—to sit between your cheek and the rough surface of the wall. The duality of his nature in moments like these is not lost on you, not in the slightest. When he speaks to you harshly, angrily, but his actions don’t match his words.

Taking care of you even as he promises to split you open on his cock where anyone could see.

“Why do you never listen, pet?” he whispers, and you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t breathe as his hand trails up your body, grabbing your breast gently and just plucking at your nipple through your top. “Such a fucking brat. S’enough to drive any man insane.”

“You’re not just any man, Simon,” you bite back.

“Sounds like an insult, that,” he says, the familiar exhale-laugh making you melt inside.

“Au contraire,” you whisper, and grab his hand, bringing it down to slip inside your underwear. You hear his sharp exhale at how wet you are for him, and you feel like you’ve won the round, though you’re sure to lose the game. “Feel that? For you, baby, not just any man. Just you.”

“F-fuck, shut up,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, while his fingers move against you, gathering the slickness and bringing it up to your clit. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Never,” you moan. Sensation burns through you, bright and hot, leaking molten pleasure from his fingertips into your clit. You’re already insane with your need for him coursing through your body—so much so that at this point, he’s basically holding your body up.

“Let me fuck you,” he groans in your ear, one finger dipping inside your cunt, finally touching you where you ache for him. “Give it to me, come on, pet, let me–”

“Take it,” you whine, grinding against his hand, moaning with reckless abandon. “It’s yours, take it, please Simon, god.” You’re babbling now, your words slurring and falling over each other in a desperation to get out.

You hear a frustrated, fuck and then he’s ripping his hand away from your cunt and using it to free himself. You only briefly hear the soft clink of his belt again, and then he’s pushing into you. No lube, no spit, no stretching you out, no readying you for him.

He promised to teach you to obey him, and it seems that that’s what’s happening.

But this is turning into an exercise in learning to trust him too.

“Fuckin’ t-tight” he growls, and his hips begin to pound into you, finding that one spot inside you that brings devastating pleasure, rendering you unable to do anything but furrow your brows, squeeze your eyes shut and take it.

You’re completely at his mercy like this, with your body pressed against the wall (your face still protected by his hand), his cock hitting deep, and his other hand sitting low on your belly.

You know he can feel himself when he puts his hand on you there while he continues to thrust into you. And though you can’t see it, just the thought of the image makes you whine low in your throat.

“Why’d you come here today, huh, pet?”

“W-wanted to see you,” you pant. “Wanted you to fuck me at work.”

“Mm, no, don’t think so.” His hand grabs your hip hard and you know you’re going to be sore from it in a few hours. It only makes you try to push back against him, grab any semblance of control over the situation he’ll let you.

You can only imagine what you look like right now. Your purse lying in a puddle by your feet, your neck craning to look back at him, eyes dilated. Your chest heaves, and his eyes fall briefly to it. His dark eyes linger there, taking their time making their way to yours, and his hand comes slowly up to your neck.

He leans back from you just a little bit, and his eyes narrow at you. “You like this, sweetheart?” he asks, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly on your neck. “You like being choked?”

“Just a little bit,” you whisper back, and he nods once. His work nod, as if your implied instruction is understood.

“‘Kay. Just a little bit then, pet,” he says, his voice only slightly mocking. His thrusts increase in frequency, and if you think he was fucking you before, he’s drilling into you now. Each motion of his cock inside you feels dragging, so fucking fast, punishing, as you get closer and closer to your release.

“Gotta be punished, though, sweetheart. Don’t tolerate disobedience.” And with a motion as quick as it is smooth, he turns you around and lifts you up, strong arms holding up against the wall now, and you can finally see his face. Your breath catches in your throat at how gorgeous he looks right now.

“Hi, handsome boy,” you whisper and he huffs, his eyes darting over your face quickly. When he’s content with whatever he sees—or doesn’t see—his eyes come back to yours and you bite back a smile. “Still gonna punish me?”

“Believe it,” he murmurs. “You don’t get to come, sweetheart.”

“W-what? You can’t do that!”

His only response to that is to take one step forward with you in his arms, so your back is flush against the wall. You grab his biceps in response, curling your fingers around them hard, trying desperately to keep yourself upright, but he gives no indication of discomfort that your nails dig into his skin.

“‘M going to,” he states, and you’ve forgotten what he’s talking about, because your orgasm is so, so close now. You arch your back slightly, and it makes the angle of his cock change deliciously, every thrust causing his pelvis to punch into yours, providing delicious friction against your clit. His eyes narrow at you slightly, looking almost black, but you melt around him anyway,the liquid heat in your veins, making you keen with pleasure. “You close?”

“M-mhm, yeah, god Simon, I’m so close—”

And then his hips stop moving, and he just looks at you through narrowed eyes. “Good,” he murmurs.

“Nooo,” you beg in response, arching your back again, trying to find that friction your body craves right now. “Please, you can’t stop, I’m so cl—”

“Quit,” he says, and you find your mouth closing immediately at the finality in his voice. Prick. You blink up at him stupidly, your stupid body betraying you at the stupid situation your mouth has gotten you into. “Y’ don’t get to come, pet, warned ya.”

“You’re fucking joking, you can’t do this to me,” you sputter, your displeasure at being pulled away from so close to the brink making your tongue loose.

You’re not really impressed by the arrogant smirk that brackets his mouth. It even makes the creases around his eyes crinkle and under normal circumstances, you would melt at the sight. “Can’t I,” he whispers, and slowly starts to thrust again.

Your relief makes you groan loud and you watch as a wet pink tongue wets his lips before he smirks again. You want to kiss him as much as you want to smack the smug off his face. You settle for doing neither, hoping to earn some good behaviour points. And an orgasm. Definitely the latter more than the former.

He seems to know what you’re thinking, because he laughs a little, his thrusts slow and lazy again—as though he has all the time in the world, as though he’s not fucking you outside where anyone—your staff!—could walk into the two of you. “Not getting away with your behaviour this time.”

One paw comes up to slightly squeeze your neck again, and you’re reminded again of the immense strength the man must possess to hold the entire weight of your body against one arm and the wall, and choke you with the other hand, and be an arse to you.

“M’gonna come, pet. You can watch,” he murmurs. “Be a good girl fo’ me,listen to me, and I’ll eat you out till you pass out when we ge’ home.”

“Wanna come now, please,” you whimper, but it only seems to make his hips move slower.

“Shut up,” he says, and you do. “Be a good girl, and I’ll make you come. Later.” He emphasizes the word with a particularly deep, hard thrust, almost like he’s trying to make you listen by fucking the instruction into you.

“Okay,” you squeak.

You don’t speak much after that—well, no coherent words leave you anyway—and you remind yourself that your patience will be rewarded in spades. And orgasms.

You hope.

_____

“Why’d you really come here, today?” He takes your hand in his, his fingers gently rubbing your knuckles, as he leads you out of the alley and into the car park. “Didn’t…mind, clearly.” His hand flutters to your ass and stays there. “Just want to know why.”

“I–I just—” you cut off. Deep breath. “I want more. I want to meet your friends, hang out with you.”

“Hang out…with me.” The tone of his voice and the way he says the words make it sound like you’re not speaking in English. Admittedly, when he says the words, they sound…awkward. Like he’s never had to say those particular words in that particular order before.

Nonetheless, your agreeable hum seems to satisfy him for the moment.

“We never hang out outside of my flat, y’know? Or yours, for that matter. I’d just like to try…meeting people together. Friends?” You don’t know why you frame it like a question.

“MacTavish is not my friend,” he snorts. “He’s only a colleague, him. An irritating one.”

You snort. “And yet you’re out on a Friday night drinking with him, but not your…me.”

He pulls you to a stop just by his car, walking you backwards until your back is flush against the passenger door. “Didn’t want you to meet Johnny because…” Simon clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest defensively, but when he speaks, his voice is gravelly. “I’m not like him. Or the rest of ‘em and you’d like ‘em. And Johnny is…he’s like you, actually. Loud, chatty. Bright.”

You try not to laugh because this is obviously hard for him to admit, but…bright? “Do you want to fuck him, Simon?”

“Not anymore.”

Your eyebrows shoot up on your forehead and you bark out a surprised laugh. It doesn’t quite make him smile, but his eyes soften and hold your stare for a second. You push yourself off the car and grab his arms, tugging on them so he’s holding your hips.

“It’s you I want. Grumpy and dreadfully stoic and in possession of the biggest cock ever made. You, Simon. Not just ‘any man’, remember?”

“Yeah, pet.” You’re so impossibly close to him but he still finds a way to tug you closer to his chest. “You want to…go out with me then? Get a drink somewhere? Hang out?”

You smile at him, your chest suddenly warm with affection for him. You know he has doubts about you being with him, you know he fears that you’re better off without. You know his doubts and fears aren’t just going to resolve themselves with one conversation in a parking lot when he’s just fucked you silly.

But more than anything, you appreciate the way he seems to trust you, trust your word, above everything else. It hasn’t come easy to the two for you—the trust or the confidence to speak freely—but you can’t help but marvel at the difference in your relationship from back when you first met him.

You fall deeper in love everyday. You can’t wait to hang out. But first. You rise up on your toes and whisper in his ear. “Forgetting something?”

He leans down to kiss you, and smacks your ass, hard, while you giggle-squeal against his mouth.

You don’t take rejection well but you can be patient.

He’ll pay you back with interest anyway.

_____

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH @taurus-ted for providing much-needed inspiration to my little slutty brain. And talking me through writer’s block. And just being you, you're fucking amazing.

Read some more (and a far superior) brat tamer! Simon on Nic's blog here.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #Simon Riley smut #ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #situationship simon #lumi writes

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thevampiremarie · 2 years ago

Text

Heartless, Chapter 5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

You get into trouble and Ghost disciplines you for it.

CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS/TAGS UNDER READ MORE

TRIGGER WARNINGS: in the first part of this chapter, homophobic slurs (fag, faggot) and insults are tossed around. From an inconsequential side character towards Soap. I want to note that I myself am queer/nonbinary, and I have been harassed/attacked/bullied for being queer. Additionally, this scene is directly inspired by real events. A friend of mine, who is queer + nb AND is a veteran, got into a fight during their service with another Marine on their base for saying vile homophobic shit. My friend dropped the guy in an instant. My friend knows I am interpreting their story in this chapter, and they approve.

SMUT TAGS: degradation (a lot of it), humiliation, spanking, bondage, dumbification, edging, spit kink, dacryphilia, bratting/brat taming, choking, face slapping, praise kink, overstimulation, squirting, care taking (tbc next chapter!). Knife kink. All consensual. By degradation, I mean degradation in the context of the smut.

Everything goes wrong like this:

You’re out with Ghost and Johnny to explore the base.

They show you the fields where people like to play soccer. “It’s football,” your friend insists in his thick Scottish brogue. Ghost agrees with a grunt like the traitor he is.

Your heavy, exasperated sigh draws out chuckles from them both. “I’ll stop calling it soccer on the day you beat us at football.” And you don’t even like football. But fuck the British if they think they can get one over you. Well, the British and Scottish. Whatever.

The two of them start chattering- correction, Johnny chatters, and Ghost genuinely listens, you can tell, about sports and teams, and you regret bringing up the topic at all because you can barely follow.

What’s the difference between Manchester City and Manchester United? Isn’t that, like, the same thing?

As your husband discusses a recent game, a few guys kick around a ball, and some people smoke a few feet outside the designated smoking area. You watch a guy stub out his cigarette on the sign that says not to smoke elsewhere.

You’ve gotten too comfortable referring to Ghost as ‘your husband.’ Hm. You should check that impulse before it spirals into something that might validate Alejandro and Gaz’s conspiracy theories about love at first sight. Gross.

Do you know what else isn’t helping? Ghost’s refusal to let you be alone with them again. He doesn’t try to stop you or interfere, but you can’t ignore him lurking in the background like a little stalker whenever you socialize.

It’s… kind of cute.

Oh, and you finally encountered Roach in the wild. You spotted him in the mess a couple of days back, collecting the randomest assortment of snacks (Cool Ranch Doritos, a pre-workout drink for balance, you guess, a chocolate milk, and three lemon sugar cookie flavored energy bars).

He had on some interesting cat ear headphones, so you just waved and wordlessly gestured that you liked his headgear. He waved back, then shot you a thumbs up.

You tap back into your surroundings. Ghost has wandered into the smoking area to light up, and you might as well join him.

When you stretch out your hand, he plucks a smoke from his pack and places it delicately in your palm. He even lights it for you from a Zippo engraved with skulls, with one scarred hand cupped around the flame to keep it steady.

Johnny wrinkles his nose. “That’s gonna kill you in five years, you ken?” He stands on the other side of the painted smoking area line to hang while letting his disapproval be known.

You take a drag instead of laughing in his face. After all, he was the one who charmed every convenience store clerk at the young age of 17 into buying what he wanted without getting carded, smokes included.

“Since when have you been so health conscious?” You say as you blow the smoke away from Soap’s face.

Ghost does the same without thinking - like he’s stood somewhere and smoked while chatting with Soap enough times to make it a routine.

You envy the easy way they complement each other. You used to be like that with Johnny, and you wish… you want your own routines with your new husband, to know that he goes out into the world and does something different for the rest of his life because of you.

Distance is only natural, you tell yourself. You’re new to their friendship.

But Soap has been one of yours for so long, and Ghost is becoming yours faster than you thought possible. Like a rapacious strangler vine or fungal colony occupying a rotted tree, you find that you’re plotting all the ways you can twist yourself around and into Ghost.

Soap laughs. “Aye, well. You try getting shot a couple o’ times. Am not goin’ down over one of them cancer sticks.”

You hear it just as you tap some of the ash off the end of your cigarette.

“...can’t believe they let those fuckin’ fags…”

You bring the smoke to your mouth to conceal your grimace before turning ever-so-slowly. You’ve learned this lesson many times over; gathering further context is important— no need to bring a knife to a situation that does not call for knives.

The same guy you heard before continues with his little rant.

He’s a miserable-looking dude with a pasty milk face, no defined chin, a bad haircut, and a shitty name tag on his shitty uniform that says ‘Pvt. Langford.’

But somehow, despite lacking any discernible charisma, he holds rapt court with a bunch of other similarly-miserable peeons. “They’re a bunch of pussies, like, it’s pathetic, bro. Gonna give me fuckin’ AIDS or some shit if I gotta be in the same room. Criminal.” By now, he’s seen you watching him.

The corner of his thin-lipped mouth lifts as if he’s said something funny.

Eh. He’s maybe got half of a foot on you. At most. There are worse odds.

Then he slides his smarmy, revolting gaze from you to just over your shoulder, and his smirk grows. He’s looking at Soap.

You’ve seen this exact look before. You know what it means, what nerves motherfucking Langford is trying to trample on.

Before anyone can stop you, you’re across the smoking area and in Pvt. Langford’s face in about five seconds.

Soap thinks he’s about as level-headed and reasonable as the average man, but Langford has been getting on his nerves for way too fuckin’ long. For the whole time they’ve been stationed at this base, so, weeks.

Everyone knows Langford is a little shit. Everyone hates him and his bitch boys.

You’re just the first person willing to do something about it.

So while Johnny has never felt the urge to personally handle the Private’s homophobia because swatting flies is beneath him, he’s content to sit back and watch the show.

Naturally, Ghost tries to follow you. You’ve got the poor fellow whipped and wrapped firmly around your little finger.

He supposes he shouldn’t have expected any less.

Soap holds your husband back with an outstretched arm. “Let the lass do her thing,” He advises. You won’t appreciate it, and Soap has no intention of being on the receiving end of your wrath.

Ghost rolls his shoulders back. “Not gonna stop her?”

The Lt. doesn’t know, does he? “D’ya really think ya can?” Even more reason to let you go off. This will be fun and, frankly, a necessary introduction.

Ghost stills. “…” Not so new, then.

What a bloody buzzkill. Now look who’s fussing and clucking? Like a rooster.

Soap watches his teammate flex and crack his knuckles and decides that you owe him for what he’s about to say. “If she needs it, we’ll grab her before it goes too far,” He reassures Ghost before leaning against the ‘Smoking Area’ sign.

It’ll work out one way or another. No big deal.

The scowl on your face as you stare down Langford is somethin’ real ferocious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You demand, voice low and proud and loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in a ten-foot radius.

Langford laughs and tries to play it off. “That’s classified.” Oh, haha. Real fuckin’ original. Like half the girls in town haven’t heard soldiers try that line a million times.

The Army sure didn’t take Private Langford for his brain cells.

Next to him, Riley shifts from foot to foot. “She always like this?” He asks as if the words are throwing themselves against his mask and demanding to be let out.

“Mmm. Since we were wee mates.” From here, Soap can see how viciously you throw your cigarette to the ground and grind out the lit ember with your heel like the poor thing did something to you.

“No. Say it again,” You snap, cracking the sentiment over Langford’s thick head like you’re breaking a chalkboard in two.

Ghost stiffens up even further, and behind the mask, his eyes glint in the sunlight like that flame you just put out.

Is it possible that he’s… impressed by you? “Go on. I just want to make sure that I heard you correctly. That we all heard you correctly,” You say icily.

Global warming would be solved in a day if they could translate your tone into real ice.

Watching Langford take a small step back without realizing it is funny as hell. Even his minions have backed away as your aura of menace sets off their self-preservation instincts with the subtlety of a pulled fire alarm.

Lt. Riley’s eyes narrow as he memorizes your scowl and how you crowd Langford forward without letting up. “Spitfire.” Damn. That’s some bloody high praise coming from him.

Heh.

Riley’s hood can’t hide the shadowy hickies on his throat; one would think that Ghost has realized it by now.

Are those teeth marks he spots? “You sound surprised. Figured she was teachin’ ya that already,” Johnny leers.

Ah, the expression he can make out under the skull mask. He wishes he had a camera so he could show you later.

Ghost closes his eyes for a long moment. “Shut your face.”

Across the way, Langford musters up a little courage. “Aw, are you mad? Did I make you mad ‘cause I spoke the truth, snowflake? Did those faggots get to you already?”

In the aftermath, even the birds stop chirping.

“Fighting words. Surprised you’re not out there with her,” Ghost says.

Only a fool would think the Lieutenant is relaxed right now; Johnny can tell that his breathing has slowed, that he’s holding perfectly still with an unbreaking focus on his prey.

That’s part of how Ghost manages to disappear in broad daylight. When those subtle signs of life go away, it’s easy to overlook him, unsubtle mask and all.

He’d best save it for the field, but that’s none of Johnny’s business.

You two are so well-suited. “That’s the thing. About bein’ her friend. That bird- that bird’s a psycho.” If your marriage outlasts the bets everyone’s placed on an irrevocable breakdown, Soap figures he could make a killing on a matchmaking side hustle.

You take a deep breath. “I didn’t hear the truth. I heard a bunch of yapping from a little boy who a recruiter conned into signing his life away to lick the boots of his COs because he was a complete waste of resources otherwise.”

Yikes.

Occasionally, Johnny regrets quitting. He regrets quitting now, specifically; he could use the calming rush of nicotine. You’ve never ended fights in a good way, but this will end… spectacularly badly. He can see it already.

Ghost lets out a low whistle. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Then the Lieutenant looks around, and Soap realizes he’s checking for their Captain or any other superior officer.

Soap was planning on doing that anyway, and your new husband wins another point of approval in his book for thinking of it on his own.

“Pretty nice though, canny lie. Who else d’ya know that would fuck up a man for you without hesitatin’?” He says as he watches you open your mouth again.

“How does it feel to know you’re just that worthless?” Your voice rises and rises, acrid enough to melt paint, and it keeps Langford frozen in place.

“How long have you known her?” Lt. Riley asks.

“Eh… give or take sum’ ten years, prolly.”

“She like this the whole time?”

You go in for another round. “Thank God you’re not deployed anywhere important. It would be like the Bay of fucking Pigs all over again.” You’re close enough to spit on the Private, right fuckin’ close to his sallow face, and as your lip curls up, Johnny knows you’re definitely considering it.

Anger thrums in the air as bitter as gunpowder; it’s infecting Lt. Riley, churning in his posture, and it’s (unfortunately) starting to break through Langford’s shock.

“Aye. Never seen a law, or a rule, or a fuckin’ polis stop her. It’s nice not to fight alone, an’ if she had her way, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger in school.” He pauses, then looks at Ghost.

Johnny picks his following words with care. “Bet that one could carry the world on her shoulders if we’d let her. You know that she’s taken to you right quick?”

And then…

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb whore. Who even are you? Some slut whose only accomplishment is spreading your legs for a uniform? I’m not afraid to hit a little girl.”

Fucking Langford. Way to ruin a moment between mates, when Soap was just trying to help you.

God knows you need it; Lt. Riley is a piece of work.

The other man puts out his cigarette.

Now Soap has to think about how many soldiers he needs to threaten into silence after Ghost is through and how Soap will hide Langford’s body once he gets the final hit. “Lieutenant-“

They start moving in tandem, trying to get to you as fast as possible, like sharks circling after tasting blood in the water.

“Yeah, well, that’s funny ‘cause ‘little girl’ is what your mom calls me when we fuck,” You jeer before raising your hand.

Johnny loves you a lot, but man, do you make stupid choices sometimes.

Private Langford stumbles to the ground like a little bitch.

Damn. You didn’t backhand him that hard, and you’re not wearing any rings.

You can take a slap way better.

You stand over him as he clutches his face, practically cowering on the ground, and your knuckles are stinging, and all you feel is the adrenaline flash-flooding through your veins like cocaine or a really good fuck.

And then- strong, immovable arms clasp around your waist and yank you away.

Your hair’s in your eyes, and you can’t tell who’s holding you back, but whoever they are… you’re gonna make them regret it.

“Fuck you!” You howl at Langford, kicking and thrashing against the stranger’s grip.

You try to get an elbow in the side of whoever it is, but they evade it with ease. “Let go of me! I’m going to fucking kill you, you inbred motherfucker!” You scream as Langford gets to his feet.

The stranger carries you a few steps back and eliminates your chances of getting your nails in Langford’s face.

You redouble your efforts to free yourself. “Let me go! Let me at him! I’ll rip his fucking head off!”

The person shakes you like a rag doll. “Calm down. Calm the fuck down, lass. It’s me, Johnny. Stop your fucking fighting,” Soap hisses.

Oops. You stop moving all at once, causing Soap to almost drop you.

The adrenaline levels off, leaving you empty, and you drag breath after breath into your lungs to make up for it.

You shove your hair behind your ears just in time to watch Ghost put Langford in a headlock with beautiful, immaculate, careless ease.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him take anyone down, and it takes away the breath you just found. Like, your mouth goes dry, and you forget Soap is restraining you.

Just… holy shit. He moves like the hand of God, eyes flashing and skull mask fierce.

Langford blacks out the same second Ghost gets his arm around the other man’s neck, crumpling to the ground like a chewed-up paper doll.

Oh. Oh no.

Now you understand why Soap keeps you in place because Ghost tosses Langford’s unconscious body to the side without blinking twice and then beelines straight. towards. you.

Your hands push and hit Johnny’s arms. You need to- you need to run this time, get away, and get out of Ghost’s path.

Flee. You need to flee before he unpicks you with his teeth and eats your fucking bones like a fairy tale monster.

God fucking damn it, why won’t Soap let you go?

A rush, you can’t breathe, oof, your stomach hurts, have you been swept onto Ghost’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes?

The upside-down sight of his very well-formed ass in his jeans tells you that, yes, you are hanging from his shoulder as he takes you to a secondary location.

All the blood in your body surges to your head. “Ghost. Ghost, let me down,” You tell him, voice jostling with each step he takes.

No reaction.

If you could just breathe, an action obstructed by his stupid shoulder jabbing into your stomach, and clear the fuzz from your mind (thanks hanging upside down!), you’d make him regret this.

“Put me the fuck down. I’m not fucking kidding.” Again, nothing.

If anything, Ghost actually tightens the hold he has on your hips, accurately predicting that you’re seconds away from kicking him.

Fuuuuuck this. “PUT ME DOWN, YOU OAF. I AM YOUR WIFE, YOU CAN’T JUST-“ You try to be as loud as possible, so maybe someone will hear and save you? Or irritating enough to make him set you on the ground?

Ghost keeps walking. “No,” He tells you before digging fingers into the back of your thigh. It’s painful, and you inadvertently shut your mouth, teeth grinding together. For now.

“I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T SET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT-“

Once Ghost unlocks your front door, he shoves it open viciously with his boot and locks it behind you without letting you go.

You fully expect him to unceremoniously drop you on the bed, but he- he doesn’t.

He pulls you into his arms like a husband carries his wife on their wedding night and lays you down gently.

Then he backs away as if burned by your skin, backs all the way to the other side of the room.

Shit. Shit. You’re in trouble. You’re in so much trouble, Ghost leans against the wall and crosses his arms, and you can’t meet his gaze; you can only look at his shoes.

He sighs. “You know what’s gonna happen next. Nod if you know.”

You nod, still looking at the ground, and feel the humiliation and anticipation trying to strangle each other in your stomach.

“If you don’t want it, you need to get the fuck outta my sight. Right now. I can’t look at you,” Ghost tells you.

You’re not sure how to find the right words. Do you want to beg? Resist? Ask him if he’s proud of you? You end up shaking your head in a negative and propping yourself up on elbows planted firmly in the bed.

He doesn’t say or do anything for a few minutes. You know he can see you squirm, how your fingers flex and feet tap the ground.

You pick yourself off the bed and walk towards him like a moth drawn to a flame.

Ghost moves as soon as you cave. He plants his large hands on your shoulders and pushes you back, back, back, until your back slams into the wall with his body boxing you in.

Before your head can hit the wall, he slides his palm around the back of your skull to cushion you.

He braces that same arm on the wall as he speaks. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some stupid shit.” You’re not really listening because his flexed bicep is right there, above your head, and he has to tap your cheek to get you to focus.

You look up into Ghost’s mask and his eyes- his eyes burn, greedily eating up your blush and your throat bobbing as you swallow your nerves.

His other hand trails along your neck and then wraps around it. “Thought you were s’posed to be smart. My smart, clever girl,” Ghost croons, all condescending like he’s talking to a misbehaving animal.

Then his voice deepens to a sound that’s just a touch inhuman. “You could’ve gotten hurt. That fuckin’ wanker almost laid a finger on you.”

Your heartbeat pounds fast, screaming in your chest. “I got him first,” You point out.

Ghost’s eyes crinkle at the ends. “That you did. You were brilliant there, love, won’t deny it.” Here’s where your flush brightens, where the praise makes you look away. “I see that went straight to your pretty little head.”

He falls silent when your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“But oh my fuckin’ god. You can’t go ‘round gettin’ into fights like that.”

“It was for Johnny,” You protest weakly. You don’t regret a single thing, but you find yourself caving at the slightest pressure.

The hand on your throat tightens, not tight enough to do anything other than remind you that you’re his. “I don’t bloody care if it was for Jesus Christ himself. Nothing is more important than you. Than your safety,” Ghost amends.

But you heard him. Nothing is more important than you, he says.

Why does he care?

Ghost sees the fight flare up in your face. “Listen to me. Nothing. Not Soap, not me. You- you are…” He’s supposed to be scaring you right now. He’s meant to be reading you the Riot Act, and the part you play is the frightened doe he teaches a lesson to.

You’re scared for a whole different reason.

Ghost is looking at you, looking through you, and it’s like you’re a little girl again, learning that the only time people give a fuck is when you do something for them.

‘Nothing is more important than you’ plays over and over in your mind.

He lets go of your throat to grab your hand, the one you hit Langford with, and his gaze drops to your reddened, bruised knuckles.

When he talks, his voice sounds odd, like he’s shaking the rust off his vocal cords. “Fuck. I was so-“ Ghost cuts himself off.

His fingers are gentle with your fingers. He turns them over, runs his thumb along your palm. You’re not used to people touching you like that.

You find your words as fast as you can. “What? You were so what?” You challenge him.

You feel him drop your hand in favor of digging his fingers into your jaw. “You’ve talked a lot today, doll. The next thing you say better be a fuckin’ apology.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s how you wanna play this?” Ghost asks, eyes flat and unreadable.

You let him apply more pressure so your mouth lolls open, you let him think he’s got you. “Yep.” Then you poke your tongue out and lick the side of the finger pressed into the corner of your lips.

“Another stupid choice,” He tells you before letting go.

He wears holsters strapped on his back and jeans, and for the first time, you’ll get to meet what he keeps in them. “See, I was gonna be nice. Was gonna… fuckin’, I dunno, say some sappy shit, be real sweet, make sure you were okay…” Ghost says matter-of-factly as he finds a single-edged switchblade that is definitely illegal for civilian carry.

There are rules for that sort of thing. The blade is an inch too long, and that popping mechanism was outlawed in 1958.

You know that he keeps bigger knives on him, ones that look like they violate the Geneva Convention. In comparison, this is small fry.

Ghost deliberately pinches the collar of your shirt between his fingers. “But you’re gonna be a bitch about this, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull?” He asks, moving far slower than he’s capable of, slow enough that you can stop him if you want to.

You hear yourself pant desperately, you look at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, then hold perfectly still so that he won’t nick you.

The tip of the sharpened knife pokes a tiny hole in the fabric. “Hope you’re not too attached to these, doll,” Ghost tells you before slicing a clean line down the middle.

It’s cold in your bedroom, you had the air conditioner running earlier, and you blame your instinctual shivers on that instead of the need brewing under your skin (and between your legs).

When he pulls the tattered remnants of your shirt from your shoulders, you let him.

Your bra goes next. A swift rip and then your tits hang free and bare, nipples already beginning to harden.

He makes sure to click the blade back into the handle before reaching out to caress the heavy swell of your breasts, unable to resist stroking your soft skin even when he’s mad.

You picked a good day to wear a skirt that falls just past your ass with a hemline that dances teasingly around your thighs. To be clear, it’s not a good day for your skirt itself.

When the blade comes out again, Ghost cuts your skirt with steady fingers that brush your curved stomach.

Then he slips the knife between your underwear and your skin, carefully aiming the sharpened edge out so you feel the cool metal press into your heated skin without risking an accidental cut.

He doesn’t react to how your panties stick to your cunt when he takes them off you, most likely to deprive you of the satisfaction of any reaction at all.

You see part of his balaclava twitch, and after a moment, you realize he’s raising an eyebrow.

Right. Shoes. You kick them off with far too much eagerness.

He returns the closed knife to its designated holster. It’s very safe of him, very proper.

“I won’t go easily,” You remind Ghost.

He answers by covering your eyes with his hand and kissing you, his mask bunched over his nose and pressing awkwardly into your skin.

Each kiss makes you dizzier, hazier, you forget why you’re fighting, he ravages your mouth with his, and when you moan, it makes him even more feral.

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, and you shout at the pain and try to curl away. But the hand over your eyes keeps you in place, and you shudder against him, naked and helpless.

The webbed straps of his chest holster grind into your breasts and leave rough streaks of chafe wherever they touch your skin.

His tongue slips against yours, Ghost tastes like smoke and something uniquely him, it feels like he’s pouring nicotine into your synapses, and your spine relaxes, your muscles soft and compliant.

When you try to bite his lip back, he pulls away without acknowledging your unhappy whine.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Ghost snaps.

You do that and even stick your tongue out for good measure. You might not be able to see him, but he can see the little tease of how good you can be.

You hear him spit before you feel the glob of his saliva land messy and hot on your outstretched tongue. Your legs shift, and you press them together, anything to help with the pressure beginning to build in your core and the arousal trickling down your thigh.

Cloth rustles, and then Ghost removes the hand covering your eyes. His mask is back in place like he never lifted it at all. “Step away. Hands behind your back.”

You turn around on unsteady legs, then put your wrists together behind your back as ordered.

Something unclicks behind you, and then he pulls it off his… pants? His belt - he’s cuffing you with his belt, deftly weaving the nylon strap between your wrists and securing it into place.

As you test the strength and make sure he’s restrained your hands in a way that doesn’t cut off circulation, Ghost gathers your hair and drapes it neatly over one shoulder so it won’t bother you.

He touches your back and neck with an almost unbearable fondness. Fuck.

You feel him kiss your shoulder through the mask, closed-mouthed and chaste. “This isn’t coming off until you’re ready to behave,” He murmurs into your skin before sliding an arm around your waist, pulling the mask down, and biting the place he just kissed.

You struggle and twist in his grasp, but he holds fast, and you slump into him with a pained moan. Is he trying to fucking brand you? It sure feels like it.

When Ghost releases you, he turns you around with a hand on your bound wrists and then walks backward faster than you can keep up.

Then he sits on the bed as proudly as a king on a throne and beckons for you.

Without your arms free to help you balance, you stumble a few times, and Ghost watches you with a pleased glint in his gaze. That may be the point.

By the time you get to him, you’re thoroughly unbalanced. “Come on. Yeah, over my lap.” You kneel without complaint, too busy avoiding eating shit to consider resisting.

He helps you lower your torso with an arm placed below your collarbones and a hand flat on your stomach so you don’t face plant into the sheets.

“Are you going to-“ You feel him guide your hips up, encouraging you to place most of your weight on your face and shoulders.

Conveniently leaving your ass exposed. And- and he can see your dripping folds, see proof that you crave him.

He goes on as casually as if he were describing the weather. “Spank you? Yes, I am. A slag like you can’t see reason, obviously. Got to train it in ya.” You practically jump out of your skin when you feel him drag a finger along the inside of your thigh, tracing the rivulets of slick trickling from your pussy.

You feel like a thing, like putty in his hands that he can bat about and talk to like you’re not even there.

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking get off on this. Be honest. Or are you too stupid to do that?” Ghost asks as if he’s just remembered that you can answer questions.

You clench around nothing and desperately wish he’d take that finger playing with the sensitive skin of your thighs, and do something useful with it. “…I do.”

“There’s my needy girl.” He neatly fists a hand in your hair, somehow mindful that you won’t appreciate losing a few strands without you telling him.

His free hand caresses your ass, then up and down the backs of your thighs. You feel him grab one cheek tightly, grinding down with his fingers so he can see red marks bloom under his touch.

You jerk forward with a cry when he hits you the first time, though the hand in your hair keeps you from going very far. Ghost doesn’t spank you hard, more of a warning tap than anything.

The shock smarts more than the blow did. But you’re determined to show that you can, in fact, take a hit better than Langford, so you dig your knees in and psych yourself up for the next spank.

“Fuck is wrong with you?” His voice cracks like thunder, then he follows it with another spank.

This one hurts. Hot, hot pain radiates from the spot he hit, but your body wrenches with a different sensation as your body processes that pain as… well… pleasure.

When he spanks you again, he takes the time to force your head further down into the blankets. “Hm? Running your dumb fucking mouth, talkin’ all that big shit?” Ghost snaps at you.

Each time he spanks you, you cry out, your eyes roll back, and it hurts, and he keeps hitting the same spots, so even when he isn’t touching you, you’re sore.

Another set of blows, each one harder than the last.

You gotta- you gotta tell him- you push back against his grip, and he lets you lift your head. “God, Ghost, please-“ Your voice is choked-up and pleading, mirroring your thighs trembling with want and your aroused, needy core that he’s fucking ignoring.

He slaps your ass again, this time right where your ass cheek meets your thigh, close but not close enough.

“Please, what? Please, what, doll? Come on. Dumb little doll doesn’t know how to talk?”

Your breaths are ragged, labored, you’re shivering and there’s so much pain that you can’t tell where it stops and where the want begins.

“Harder-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when he does just that.

That one burns. That one feels like an open flame, like Ghost’s touch is burrowing into your muscles, down down down, like it will leave a lingering mark that you don’t want to fade.

He rubs over your heated skin, massaging away the worst of the soreness. “You’re welcome. Now listen to me,” Ghost speaks in a low, reassuring tone like he’s gentling a startled animal.

He notices the exact moment you get lost in the feeling, when you push back and fucking present yourself in the hopes that he’ll give you more.

Then he cracks his hand against your ass; the sound is louder than your answering shriek. “Listen. You are going to apologize for almost getting hurt. You’re going to mean it. You’re going to swear you’ll never get into a fight again.” Ghost tightens his hold on your hair and twists his wrist to push your face back into the bed, taking back the advantage he granted.

“Or what?” You won’t be able to sit comfortably for a week at least, the ache and the bruises forming have you strung out for the tiniest scrap of pleasure… but you did tell him you wouldn’t go easily.

“Or…” Ghost trails off slowly. Your scalp begins to tingle as his grip grows even tighter.

It’s so painful that you almost miss the two thick fingers he slips into your pussy. Almost.

“Fuck!” You keen, your mouth open as your nails dig into your palms.

He thrusts them into you slowly, lazily, totally unsympathetic to your pleading noises and your muscles quivering around his fingers as he drags them in and out of you.

Your cunt has to stretch to accommodate them, and he grinds into you each time he gets knuckle-deep. And then he holds your head down like you don’t get the privilege of looking at him… Your pussy clenches around him at the thought.

Eventually, Ghost stops moving at all, but you’re gone, you’ve been gone, and when you start fucking yourself on his hand, he lets you.

You can tell he’s rock hard, you can feel his dick through his jeans, but he has far more willpower than you could even imagine, and brushing up against it does nothing. “Oh- oh my god, fuck, that feels…” You pant as you chase the sweetness, chase the tension twisting up your guts that’s so close to boiling over, so close.

Your clit is aching, screaming for pressure, for stimulation, but he doesn’t grant it to you. You can only work your hips against his hand, over and over.

Your eyes close as you speed up, you’re whining, you’re gonna come any second, your cunt can’t stop twitching. “I’m so close, wait what-“

Ghost pulls his fingers out before you tip over the edge.

“Or you’re not coming tonight,” He informs you, and you can hear the stupid fucking grin in his stupid fucking voice.

When you try to protest, to get up and fucking bite him or some shit because that’s not fair, Ghost spanks you with the hand you soaked.

You’re sort of blissed-out, sort of pissed, and a lot horny. “I’m sorry-“ You start in the hopes that Ghost will fold and give you what you fucking want.

His mask rustles as he shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Then he slides you off his lap like you weigh nothing so he can stand.

Ghost keeps you in the same position, head down, ass up, and nudges your thighs open a bit wider.

You can’t see him through any of this. That seems to be something he’s taking full advantage of. You can’t touch him, you have no idea what’s happening next.

The only clue you have that he’s taken his mask off again is when he puts his tongue on your sensitive, aroused clit.

(He really should just take the damn thing off more regularly. This is inconvenient, and it’s not like there’s anything under there that could make him less attractive.)

He laps at your swollen folds with his hands on your hips to steady you, and the thoughts melt straight out of your head and drool from the corner of your mouth.

You struggle against the belt in earnest this time, maybe you can loosen it enough to slip your hands out and get away from Ghost and his planned torment. As much as your body pleads to stay put, as much as you want to push yourself back and let him consume you, let him fuck you stupid with his tongue, you know it will end soon.

And he’s going to be fucking mean about it.

Ghost takes his breathing break as an opportunity to taunt you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” He promises, leaving handprint bruises on your thighs.

Your stomach churns as he sucks on your clit, like there’s a knife slicing through you, and it’s the hot, burning pleasure pulsing through your body.

You’re not sure you can hold yourself up any longer, your knees waver like you’re a baby deer, and oh God, you’re going to come again, you can feel the spasms in your cunt grow stronger and stronger.

The beginnings of your orgasm tremble through your muscles, so close that you can taste it, you feel it throbbing with every beat of your heart.

He keeps sucking, his wet mouth relentless and dragging you painfully to the edge of the cliff. “Ghost, please, please let me- Fuck!” You wail as he backs off.

Tears well in your eyes as the tremors fade into nothing.

You get yourself upright before he can stop you. “Why are you being such a dick?” You blurt out, lurching forward on your knees like if you can get to him, you can do… something. You’re not sure what, other than that you want to kill him.

Ghost blinks a couple of times.

In the silence that follows, the deadly, threatening silence, you realize your mistake. “Just- just let me come, I’ll be good. I promise. Just wanna come.” You beg, you sit down and tilt your head up like a dog doing a trick, and you pray he gives you grace.

He gets his hand around your throat faster than a snake striking its prey. This time, Ghost squeezes the sides hard enough to make you see white lights. “I am being a dick,” He agrees congenially. “But that’s not what you need to say, is it?”

“…no,” You mumble.

The next thing you feel after he releases you is his palm meeting your cheek. Hard.

“Have I spoiled you that much? You think you can fuckin’ ignore me?” Ghost sounds so calm, so authoritative.

After the ringing in your ears clears, you’re proud to see that you’re still upright. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” You stretch your jaw a few times to release the ache from his slap.

He hunches over, puts his hands on his knees, and gets right in your face. “Oh, but you did,” Ghost whispers.

There’s something about the fogginess clinging to your eyelashes and the inside of your ears and the folds of your brain that makes his skull mask seem more than real.

A hovering specter of exposed bone, hollow eye sockets with no end, and a gaping, horrifying maw.

You’re starting to understand why people call him Ghost and mean it.

Your mouth goes dry. “Please, I’m begging you,” You whimper, eyes round with awe and flustered blood rising in your cheeks.

He nods, and you swear there must be hearts in your eyes at his approval. “Mm. I like that. Beg again.”

“Ghost. Husband. I’ll be so good. Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t take it, I need to come so badly.” You lean forward to touch your forehead to his, making yourself as obedient as possible. For the most part.

“That’s not an apology.” Then he sighs, long and drawn-out and aggravated. “Anything, you say?” Ghost asks.

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright. You can come…. When you promise not to fight. And you’re gonna wait until you do,” He tells you as he slips his hand between your slick thighs.

“No…” You moan. He’s doing it again, torturing you again, you just want to give up, you feel him play with your throbbing clit, and it hurts so good.

Ghost clamps a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to roll your hips against his hand. “Sounds like you weren’t listening. Now that makes me think you don’t care.” Shit. Shiiiiit. He pushes a single finger into you, and you collapse into him as you start to ride it, hips jerking unconsciously.

He laughs when he hears you squeal. “You’re just a mindless whore who’d let half the fuckin’ base run through you, aren’t ya?” He’s found your g-spot, he rubs the patch of ridged flesh inside your cunt over and over.

Sweat beads on the back of your neck and drips down your spine, your fucked-out gaze can hardly focus on him, you feel like you’re burning alive in your skin.

“Don’t even need me at this point…” He circles your clit one more time and your mouth hangs open and you want to beg, but you can’t focus-

Tears fall down your cheeks when he wipes his fingers on your heaving breasts.

“No, no, no, Ghost, I need you. I want you. No-nobody else. I do care, please, you’re the only one,” You sob into his chest, pushing your nose into the fabric of his hoodie because it’s soft and smells like him, warm and like home.

“Yeah?”

You feel him rub your back, then slip a few fingers between the belt and your wrists to test your comfort.

You nod without lifting your head. “I- I was- I’m listening, promise, I can’t- you gotta make me come, don’t want anybody else.” You’re so tired, so worn out. There’s a patch of dampness on his jacket from your weeping, and you let out little high-pitched whimpers like a neglected kitten.

He frees your hands in an instant. “If I gotta repeat myself, I’m gonna leave you here,” Ghost tells you, though his voice isn’t as mean as before.

Your arms cling to his neck as you nuzzle your face into the space below his sharp jaw. “Ghost. Don’t go.” The edge of his balaclava muffles your words, but you don’t have the strength to say them to him straight.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so stupid,” You sniffle before bringing a hand to your nose to wipe a little snot.

Ghost gently knocks your fingers away and replaces them with the edge of his sleeve, delicately cleaning the mucus from your upper lip.

Next, he dries your cheeks with the shadow-black fabric.

You protest when he unhooks your arms from his neck, and your hands scrabble for purchase in the hood of his jacket.

One soft look, his fingers brush your chafed wrists, and you let him lay you down. “Took you long enough,” Ghost quips as he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his dick, mouthwateringly hard and long. He pumps his cock a few times.

You’re in a daze, hovering in that raw space on the other side of crying but wanting him anyways, needing him more than anything.

“Spread your legs, love.”

Ghost leans in like he’s about to kiss you. Then he remembers his mask and changes his mind, having lifted it enough today.

He taps your sensitive clit with the fat head of his cock, and you suppress your shudders, how your legs automatically try to close and get away from the feeling. “I won’t do it again,” You tell him, voice breathless and sweet.

Once he’s coated in enough of your arousal, he keeps one hand flat on your pelvis as he pushes in. “Fuck- fuck, I…” You groan. There’s never any room in your body left for air when he fucks you. Never.

He’s so large that it hurts a little when he’s bottomed out, you can hardly twitch or clamp down like you desperately want because of how fucking full you are.

You can feel every inch of him, you’re on the brink of crying again because all of those denied orgasms are tearing at your insides, and your painfully aroused cunt screams that you can’t take it, that it’s too much, too good, he’s too big.

You have to be good. “Uh, I won’t fight, aah-“ That’s the only thing that gets you to say the words he wants through numb lips, especially when Ghost starts to thrust, and your pussy convulses around him each time.

He moves slowly, really slowly, shallow at first, your tits bouncing in time, and you’re crying out underneath him, so used to all that edging that you subdue your pleasure on instinct.

The slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out are loud and profane, filling the room more than your weak, almost pathetic whines do.

The solid, imposing weight of his body settles you down so you can enjoy his faster, harder pace, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you open. “Promise?” Ghost pants, his hands pressing your knees almost to your chest.

He’s looking for something. He moves your legs every few thrusts, opens you up a little more, tilts your pelvis up and-

When his dick catches on your g-spot, your tears cover your cheeks and trickle into your hair in earnest. “Yes, yes, shit, hngh- I promise…” You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping down to the bed and pooling under you, you feel that familiar pressure building, except this time it’s stronger, it’s got a stranglehold on you.

Every time the fly of his pants brushes your engorged clit, your eyes go large and you hiccup, unable to moan properly because it’s like electricity is coursing down your spine.

He kisses the side of your face before nailing that sensitive spot with terrifying, mind-breaking accuracy.

“Come on. You can do it,” Ghost groans, cursing under his breath when you squeeze him so tightly that he almost loses his grip on your thighs.

Oh. Oh. He wants- he’s trying to make you…

“I can’t, I don’t know how, I, I-“ You sob, the pleasure is so intense that you feel nauseous, he’s rutting into your body furiously, and you’re stuck on a horrible knife’s edge of needing to come or you’ll die, but it’s not happening.

He nudges your knee until you wrap one leg around his hips. “It’s alright, love. Let me help you. That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Ghost shushes you before slowing down so he can place his hand on your throat and restrict the blood rushing to your head.

Everything goes sweet and hazy, and you give him a cock-drunk smile in return, eyes rolling back and drool stuck to the corner of your lips.

Once you’re suitably pliant, he slides that hand between you and finds your aching clit. “Just focus on me.” He’s pressing his forehead to yours, you look into his dark, fathomless eyes ringed with pale lashes.

The coil tightens, and you arch into him, gasping and biting down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.

“Ghost, fuck, can I-“ You beg, voice choked and strung out as his fingers move faster on your clit, circling it in tandem with his cock pounding you so deep that it feels like he never ends.

“Go on. Come for me. I know you can.” Ghost pinches your clit, and you come with a wail, thighs shaking, your cunt seizing and it fucking gushes out of you, you soak his jeans, you clamp down so tightly that he slips out.

He replaces his dick with three fingers slotted right on your g-spot, moving in quick, jerky thrusts to see you through it. “Holy fuck. Did you just…” He mutters as your eyes screw shut, and your nails snag his shoulders.

You feel like you’re dying, you can’t stop fucking squirting, the waves grow and grow-

Your hips jerk for the last time, and you’re left a whimpering, quivering mess of oversensitive nerves, the last of the aftershocks still simmering in your muscles.

Ghost kisses your forehead as he carefully withdraws his fingers. “You’re too good to me,” He tells you with something like awe in his rough voice.

You slump to the bed, boneless and empty, not even giving a fuck that the sheets are all messy with sweat and… squirt?

That’s new, you think blearily. That kind of shit only happens in porn? Right?

Your head lolls to the side so you can watch him through lidded eyes.

He moves you out of the wet patch with one arm under your back and the other under your knees, then tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Wait… you didn’t- you didn’t come…” Your voice is fucked up and hoarse, and maybe you should give in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, but…

Did he not want to? You did everything he asked.

He shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t need to. You were perfect, you learned your lesson.” He splays a hand out on your stomach, luxuriating in your squishiness.

Your brow furrows. “Ghost…” Then you rub the sweat and crusted tears from your eyes and set your mouth in a mulish, determined line.

He watches you like a hawk. “Yeah?”

“Please? Fuck me?” You ask as you touch his forearm with a weak hand.

A beat passes. “You’re crying. And you drenched me, the bed too,” He tries to reason with you. You see him swallow harshly, you know he’s shifting where he sits because he’s given himself blue balls.

Your eyes flutter when the exhaustion almost gets you, but you power through it. “It’s okay. I- I’m tough. I want you to come.”

“Yeah. Alright… Tough girl.” Then Ghost reaches for your hips with all kinds of enthusiasm that tells you the truth.

It was sweet of him to try and be gallant. You’d rather he break you open and fill you up.

To be extra nice, you even hold your knees apart so he can push back in.

You’re not going to come again, you’re too fried for that, but it still feels… incredible. You’re glad for all the extra lubrication and that you can make him feel good.

Ghost fucks you with abandon, and deep, animalistic groans echo from his throat. “Shit- I could fuck you forever, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, fuckin-“ He grunts, head tilted back the tiniest bit and composure gone.

Breathe, you tell yourself, breathe. Do it for him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Your swollen pussy spasms from the praise, constricting him so tight that he cries out. You just can’t help yourself when he says shit like that, especially when he’s making you ache in such an addictive way.

His hips move faster. “You like that? You like it when I tell you how good this fuckin’ pussy feels?” Yeah. Yeah, you do.

“Fuck, fuck fuck-“ You feel him orgasm, he paints your walls with his cum, then grinds those last few thrusts so deep that you cry out.

His pelvis bumps the backs of your thighs like he’s trying fuck his cum in as deep as it will go.

Ghost catches his breath as he softens inside you, panting as raggedly as you are.

He pulls out before dropping his chest harness to the side and unzipping his hoodie so he can clean you up.

You can’t stand the thought of anything touching anywhere near your beat the fuck up pussy right now, so you shove his hands away and drag Ghost down to snuggle.

Of course, he obliges you and helps you rest your head on his shoulder as you curl into his muscular frame like a little bug.

“What happens if the fight comes to me?” You ask.

He’s running a hand up and down your spine, soft touches to bring you back to earth in a gentle, comforting way.

His hand stops until you kick his shin, gently, then he starts up again. “You run,” Ghost says.

“What happens if I can’t run?” You press your cheek into his t-shirt, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin through it. And a little rhythm that must be his heartbeat.

Next, Ghost threads his fingers through your sweaty, messy hair and attentively smooths it away from your face. “You call me. I’ll come get you. Every time.”

Hope y'all liked this one! Next chapter will be super soft/sweet/fluffy with lots of caretaking, I promise.

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