#simonrileysmut

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Ending: You took the tea)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

C/W: Smut, unprotected P in V, sexist-type humor, size kink

Word Count: 3k

Previous part

“You want some tea, love?”

***

You’re now sitting at the small round dinner table watching as he tilts the kettle into the mugs. He walks the mugs over to the table and sits across from you.

“Didn’t have anyone to stay with, did you?” He asks before taking a sip.

“I sure didn’t. Everyone is still avoiding me like the plague.” You stare down at the mug. 

“It’ll end soon.” He wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. The action catches your attention and he doesn’t miss the sparkle in your eyes. For a stone-cold man, he sure was catching himself smirking a lot tonight. 

“When I showed up to my first unit I got the same, and the unit after that.” The two of you drink simultaneously.

“What? They ignored you?”

“No,” He chuckles softly. “My first unit, they held me down and branded me with a shite-looking coat of arms made from a wire clothes hanger.”

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand.

“What?! Where?!”

“My bum.”

You snort, “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.” You cover your face with your hands. His shoulders rise and fall with soft laughter.

“It is a little.”

“Did they ever get in trouble? Reprimanded?”

“Never told anyone, ran into them at my next unit and pummeled them into the ground.”

“Bravo!” You celebrate with your hands in the air. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Then I was disciplined for the beatin’ they got but it was worth it.”

“I agree, they had it coming.”

You take another gulp of your tea enjoying the spread of warmth inside of you.

“You’re quite fond of trouble.” He states flatly. You still, squinting at him in suspicion.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your files,” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Lengthy history of discipline, being reprimanded.”

You hum in response. “Is that the word on the street?”

He grins, his hand coming up to stroke his stubble before he sits back with his arms crossed looking at you. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I’ve gotten in trouble a couple of times in my career, what about it?”

“How long have you been in?”

“Five years.”

“You’re tellin’ me that you’ve been reprimanded nearly every single year you’ve been in?” He now leans on the table looking over at you with a dumbfounded look.

“Shit happens, I have no problem taking responsibility for it.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to cause trouble.”

“I’m not, I just don’t have the grace other people do. I do something stupid and get caught immediately.”

“You’re right about that. You’re a naughty one, for sure.” He says before downing the remaining liquid in his mug.

He smirks to himself letting his eyes roam over your shoulders.

"I heard that boyfriend of yours was a calvary bum." He pokes, changing the subject. 

You "tsk" at him. Once everyone found out about your now ex-boyfriend they never let you live it down.

"What's his job got to do with anything?"

Simon shrugs, feigning ignorance, “Assumed a woman like you preferred men, that’s all.”

“Oh, hush!” You bite back a laugh refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I bet he cried like a child at the thought of going to the field.”

“That’s enough out of you!” You reach over the table to cover his mouth. He fights you off taking your wrists in his hands. He stands and walks to your side of the table gently pulling up by the wrists. His massive frame takes most of your view, you can’t help but feel anxiety pool in your stomach having him tower over you.

“Poor bird, spendin’ her nights with half a man. Bet he didn’t have a clue what he was doin’.”

The warmth you felt from the tea was traveling up to your cheeks. He was so close you could smell the rich cologne in his skin. His hands were so rough but warm on your pulse. 

Your eyes focus on his lips.

“Did he?” The gravel of his voice makes a shiver run through your spine. You gulp before responding.

”He was… enthusiastic.”

Simon laughs hoarsely, “Enthusiastic?” He enunciates with a shit-eating grin.

”Why is my sex life a topic of conversation to my Lt.?” You suddenly get some courage.

”You think I haven’t noticed you droolin’ over me, love. Peakin’ at me from afar. Now you show up to my flat with your tits fallin’ out of your top, your bare ass out, and a broken heart from some lad not worth the air he breathes.” He drops his head forcing you to meet his eyes. “Quite the coincidence, innit?”

”I think it’s more of a happy coincid-“ He breaks your sentence off catching your lips with his. Your brain pushes you out of your frozen state and the two of you begin moving in unison. He slowly releases your wrists and moves his hands to your waist. Your hands run down his chest.

He deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips. You moan softly as his tongue plays with yours. He pulls you against him, one hand over yours on his chest the other at the small of your back. You feel lightheaded, not in a bad way, quite the opposite. You’d fantasized about your Lt. plenty of times, his touch, the scars he hid beneath his army green top, the way his lips felt - come to find out they were soft, unlike the rest of him. His hands keep setting you ablaze when they touch your skin, the callouses nearly make your eyes roll back.

He growls into the kiss, tearing himself away from you. His arms wrap around the back of your thighs and you grab onto his shoulders. He lifts and places you on the table, forcing himself between your legs. He bites at your neck, pulling you into him. You grip the table feeling as if you could slide off at any second. 

He eats up every single gasp he gets out of you. His teeth graze your collar bone and he sucks on the sensitive skin. Your nails run over his scalp down to the back of his neck drawing a groan from him.

He stops for a moment to let you catch your breath.

”You want this, love?” He leans his forehead against yours looking into your eyes.

“God, yes!” You exasperate. 

He chuckles, still looking into your eyes.

”Hold on.”

”What do you-“ 

You squeal as he lifts you off the table and rushes to wrap your arms around his neck. You rest your head on his neck relishing in the feeling of his body against yours. Warmth radiated off of him like a furnace, the feel of his skin so addictive.

He carries you to the couch placing his knee on the cushions before gently placing you on your back. He follows you down and your hands run down his bare back.

He supports himself with one arm, the other trails down to your aching core, cupping the mound. He lets out a ragged breath once he feels the heat burning through you. He moves to pull your shorts off, dragging them up your legs and tossing them off to the side.

”Fuckin’ hell,” He groans at the sight of your bare pussy. “Such a bad girl walking around without knickers.”

He gives you one last hypnotizing kiss before brushing his lips in between your breasts. He kisses each one and carries on down your stomach and lands right above your clit.

You panic inside, you prop yourself up on your elbows, “Lt.”

”Fuck’s sake, love. As much as I love hearin’ you call me that, say my name, will you?” He laughs light-heartedly. You smile behind your hand trying not to break out in giggles. 

“What is it?” His eyebrows pull together.

”You don’t have to do that if you don’t want.”

”Eat you out?” He looks at you confused.

You nod slowly, embarrassed at the question.

He “Tsks” at you lowering himself once again while muttering something along the lines of, “Calvary muppet took the fun out of pussy, didn’t he?”

”I’m serious! You don’t have to!” You spit out frantically.

“Shut up, doll.”

He licks a stripe up your cunt and moans softly to himself. Your lips part in disbelief. He slowly laps at your clit and you lower yourself onto your back. He decides not to work you too fast yet, scared you’d pass out after being neglected by that dumb bloke for so long. 

You whine softly, legs already shaking. He wraps his arms around your thighs and presses them against his head.

He gently sucks on your clit and your hand shoots down to his head. The feeling of you tugging one his short locs encourages him to speed up. His lips wrap around your clit and toys with it as he pleases. The pace causes you to clamp your thighs around his head on your own.

Moans pour from your lips as your back arches. His hands stroke your thighs as you restrain yourself from pushing his head down further.

”Simon! Oh god!” Your mouth hangs open. You look down at him and nearly orgasm seeing him between your legs. His eyes are blown out, his thumb caresses your skin.

He lets go of one thigh and his fingers tap at your entrance gathering your wetness. He pushes two of his fingers inside you and your head falls back. Your vision goes fuzzy and you clamp your eyes shut. His fingers pump into you hitting your g-spot each time.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you let out a high-pitched moan. You chant his name tightening around his fingers. He feels your walls clamp down and continues pumping letting you ride it out. Your hips twitch, your thighs trap him where he is. 

He waits until you go limp to pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

”Fuck, you made a mess.” He groans. He climbs above you and peppers your face with kisses. “Was that alright, love?” 

You open your eyes to meet his, all you can do is nod unable to trust yourself to talk. He smirks at you, proud of himself for leaving you in such a state.

”You think you can take me, love, or do you need some time?”

”Want you so bad,” You whine out.

He lowers his head for a chaste kiss and pulls himself up onto his feet. He drops his sweats revealing the thick muscle of his thighs. His cock slaps his thigh as he throws his sweats onto the floor, the weight of it keeping it down. Your eyes meet his member and a wave of nervousness comes over you. His length was impressive but the thickness was your biggest concern. 

“Hey! You weren’t wearing underwear either, hypocrite!”

He rolls his eyes at you with a smile. A sight so beautiful you can’t help but smile back.

He takes his earlier position above you and aligns himself with your entrance. He looks up at you and you feel his tip poking into you already.

”Ready, doll?”

You nod at him.

”Say it.” He whispers.

”I-I’m ready.”

”Alright then.” He nudges your forehead with his before the two of you look down to watch the sinful show of him slowly sliding into you. You gasp, hands going to his back. He moves at a snail’s pace letting you adjust as he goes. He cradles your head, forehead against yours trying to keep his breathing steady.

”Ah, tight little thing.” He rasps out.

Your mouth hangs open, your nails digging into his skin, legs hugging his waist once he fills you to the hilt. He waits a moment before slowly sliding out halfway and bringing himself back to the same depth. Your whines draw out. His tip hits the deepest parts of you so well that you nearly begin drooling.

He examines your face for any sign of discomfort before nudging your neck with his nose. He begins with a moderate pace as he kisses along your jaw. You wrap your arms around him, fingers running over the buzzed hair at the back of his head. 

The stretch from his cock stings slightly, the overwhelming pleasure sending tingles through your bones making it hard to notice. He continues rocking his hips into yours letting you enjoy the feel of him without anything too overwhelming. You mewl into his ear as he stretches you over and over.

”Fuck, so good,” You whine.

His hand comes down to grip your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, circling it gently. He slides his legs up kneeling with you in between his thighs. He stops, letting you catch your breath and he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He suckles the nub, playing with it with his warm tongue. He thumbs your clit as he treats the nub like a candy. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you down onto his cock, dragging you down the cushions fucking you onto him for a while. 

He angles his hips to hit all the right places, your cunt throbs around him when he hits your g-spot head on causing you to gasp.

”Oh fuck! Right there!” Your hands cling onto his forearms for dear life as he goes on to hit the spot repeatedly until it nearly hurts. His pubic bone rubs against your clit with every thrust. He picks up his pace, throttling that poor little sensitive spot. Your back arches painfully. He takes advantage of it and throws his hand under your waist keeping you in the position swinging you down to meet his thrusts.

He stuffs you with his cock relentlessly. You become a mess beneath him struggling to get words out, just high-pitched moans filling the room.

”God! Oh god!” 

“He’s not here, love. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” He orders.

The feeling grows inside you pulling the air from your lungs. He nips the skin below your breasts and licks a stripe between them to your neck. Your pussy flutters around him before you fall deep into euphoria, his name pours from you. Your ears ring and eyes wire themselves shut as you clamp down around him. Tears pour from your eyes involuntarily. 

The sequence of flutters pulls him back into you making it too difficult to pull out too far. He buries his head in your chest as he’s pulled over the edge. He moans into your skin as your body sucks him back in, milking him so hard he blinks trying to rid himself of the fog. He begins spilling into you, his white hot streams shooting out at high velocity. He paints your walls so thoroughly that you feel his cock twitching with every spasm. 

His cum spills out of you not having any more room to fill. You gush around him and he quietly gasps. 

The two of you stay like this for what could’ve been an eternity. The post-orgasmic haze engulfs the both of you. He keeps himself inside and lowers himself onto his side, dragging you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He pulls you into his sweaty heaving chest and kisses your forehead. 

He feels a wetness on his thumb and pulls back, wiping away your tears.

”What’s happened, Y/n?” He asks, concerned. “Did I hurt you?” He moves to pull himself out of you and you grab him, bringing him to a stop. “You’re crying, love.”

”That was amazing.” You mumble, eyes struggling to open.

”You cryin’ because it was good?” He laughs, a big goofy smile plasters itself on his face. You force your eyes open to peek at him. 

“You smile so pretty.”

He pulls you back to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you.

”Thank you, love.” You could still hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up and put to bed, yeah?”

”Too sleepy.” You complain.

”It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” Against your protests, he lifts himself slowly and positions himself to pull out of you. He gives you a single nudge with his cock still sheathed and you nearly purr. 

He pulls out slowly.

”Jesus, I’m gonna need a new couch.” He mutters. His cum spills from you, his eyes glued to your core watching it slowly pour out. His cock twitches and he has to look away. There was no way you were in shape for another round. Thankfully the memory was burned into his mind - the best thing he’d ever seen, next to you of course. 

He lets you know he’ll be back and you hear water rushing down the hall. He returns moments later and slides his hands under you.

”Bath time,” He says in a sing-song-y voice. You giggle, lacing your fingers behind his neck. He lifts you in his arms and looks into your eyes. “You were wonderful.” He pecks your lips and carries you off to his bathroom placing you in the bathtub before sliding in behind you.

”I don’t have a hair tie but I’ll try with some string,” He says mostly to himself. The warm water only reaches your belly button, once he slides behind you it rises a few inches. He wraps your hair into a funny-looking bun and ties it with the piece of string he found.

” Ta-da.” 

“Thank you, Simon.” You say sweetly leaning back against him. He holds you against him and you feel something poke into your back.

”Sorry, love. It’ll go down, I don’t expect you to stay awake long enough for another one.”

You moan in response and sigh letting the water nearly lull you to sleep. 

“Wait,” you breathe out. “Does me saying your name turn you on?”

He doesn’t respond. You try to look up at him but he tightens his hold not wanting you to see the red spawning over his face.

”Siiiiimon”

”Oh, hush.” He imitates your voice.

”Hey!”

He grabs his loofa and begins lathering you in bubbles.

”C’mon, I wanna get you in bed before you fall asleep.”

He cleans every bit of you, focusing on your breasts because no matter how much he denied it at that moment, he was still a dog. He hands you a bath bomb that he saved in case he ever had a special someone stay over and let you watch it fizz up as he cleans himself.

He dries you off and plops you down on his massive bed wearing his t-shirt. By the time he throws on his boxers you’re fast asleep under the covers, engulfed in his scent.

He slides next to you pulling you into his arms. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and whispers into your hair, “You’re mine now, doll. All mine.”

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[tobeholyistobeempty]

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

[kymerawrites]

HIGHSCHOOL SIMON! X READER

Saw this edit and needed to make a canon of this, what if Simon had a GF before he went into the military (and still has)

Simon was invited to a party on Saturday, and to be real, he didn’t really want to go he was considered as one of the weirder but hotter kids, lots of scars, and didn’t like to be seen. Yet he had a lot of ‘friends’, It was a bunch of people who he was friendly with, but wouldn’t exactly call them friends.

The party went on, for the most part it was pretty boring. He stood in the corner, observing. That’s when you showed up. You really popular, they invited you because they all wanted to be seen with you, you had that queen B energy.

He watched you walk into the house, as he had a beer in his one hand, and his phone in the other. He kept his gaze on you, before he noticed people already surrounding you. He stayed where he was in the corner, taking sips from his beer as he watched from the sidelines while leaning on the wall, watching with his intense brown eyes.

He observed as everyone talked with you, like you were their queen. He snorted, they all acted so tough but he knew they all thought you were attractive. Even Simon, but unlike them, he didn’t have any interest in being with you and acting like he was above everyone. He was more on the quiet side who took action through violence if needed, he was intimidating, but not the kind to take advantage of people.

He watched you talk and laugh with everyone, he didn’t know what it was about you but something about your attitude intrigued him, you were beautiful, but there was just something he couldn’t place. So he decided to go for it. As he walked over to you, still holding the beer in his hand. Standing over you. “Hey.” his voice was a low gravely tone, but he also had a bit of a British accent. He spoke to you specifically, he didn’t care much for the friends you had at the moment. They already annoyed him.

Before you could say anything, one of your friends, Mike, scoffed as he smirked at Simon. “What do you think you’re doing here, Riley? You look greasy as always.” Mike taunted, his friends behind him laughing a little as Simon rolled his eyes, still staring at you.

I looked at Mike with an expression that said shut up “oh you’re Simon right? We’re in the same sports class if I remember correctly..”

He nodded his head, glancing back at Mike and his friends, and giving a quick look that said ‘screw you’. Before he looked back at you again.”Yeah, we are.” he said simply as he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before taking a sip of his beer.

I smiled kindly to Simon “well I must say when those military guys showed up at sports you were amazing! Sadly I got 5th place in their small introduction.”

If you were paying attention you could see a small smile on his face, of course you had to notice it, the man was cold stone to everyone else. “That isn’t unfortunate, fifth place is good, only four others were ahead of you. Besides, fifth place, you were the top four of everyone else in the class, that’s pretty good. I should know, I got first place after all.” He said, taking another sip of his beer.

“How about you come sit down?” He spoke as he nodded over to the couch. “We can have a few beers, and talk. If you want.” He added on as he gave you a small shrug of his shoulders. Of course he thought you were probably the hottest person at school, but he was not someone who would make a move very easily, too shy and collected, so he would wait for you to make a move first, that’s just how he was.

“I would love to my feet hurt in these heels!” I said

He took a seat on the couch, a little nervous, but he felt this was the only way he’d be able to talk with you without your friends around and making it weird. Besides, the way he was sitting, you could clearly see the muscles on his broad chest under the hoodie he gestured you to sit down

He was a little nervous, sure he was sitting down and being cool on the outside but he was a bit of a mess on the inside. He didn’t know what to say next, he knew you were very popular and people probably tried to impress you as much as they could, how was he supposed to impress you? He took a sharp intake of breath, looking down at the beer in his one hand before looking back at you. “You want to try some beer?” He offered it over to you.

I looked uncomfortable at the beer “well uh… I’m more of a cocktail person but sure?”

He blinked his eyes, as it took a moment for his brain to process what you said. In reality he felt like an idiot, he had been so focused on you to realize that you didn’t even like his favorite drink. “Oh, yeah, there are some cocktails in the kitchen, I think.” He chuckled a bit as he took a sip of his beer, still holding the beer out for you to take some sips of.

I shook my head “no! No!” I laughed she really knew how to impress me somehow, the mystery guy has some moves “I need to learn how to drink pints because college is not cocktails but beer pingpong I heard”

Simon was surprised by the fact that he somehow charmed you. He was not expecting to do that at all, but he did, so he kept going, taking another sip of his beer as he grinned a bit in his normal stoic and almost intimidating way. “Well, it would be my pleasure to give you a lesson on beer pong, or any sort of drinking games. I’m not going to college, but I know a few good ones.” He said with a small smirk, leaning back on the couch.

As he leaned back on the couch, he accidentally brushed your arm with his. You could notice how big his biceps were from that small brush alone, this man was packing, as the saying goes.”Are you going on to college?” He asked curiously as he took another sip of his beer, his brown eyes almost drilling into yours as he watched you. His body was tense, but he was still trying his utmost best to be composed. He did not want to mess this up.

I was thinking, no one ever asked me this question “well uh.. I guess I want to go to Umiami or somewhere, but my deep desire is to travel the world.”

His eyes widened a tiny bit, he was clearly surprised to hear that you wanted to travel the world. He took another sip of beer as he nodded his head slowly. “Well, that is quite ambitious. I like that.” He said as he took a moment to think it over in his head. “I’m not so sure I’d want to go to college. It’s not my thing. Traveling the world seems like a much better option though.” He said in his low, gravelly voice as he watched you closely.

As he watched closely, he knew you were definitely popular for a reason. You were the total package, beautiful, good grades, personality, and you were pretty nice to hangout with. Sure he only just met you and this was your first conversation, but he was not exactly the kind of guy who had many friends, so having someone who wasn’t scared of him made him feel different, feel good. He licked his lips. This would have been a good moment, if Mike hadn’t interjected again.

Mike had a big, annoying smirk planted on his face as he watched you in Simon’s peripheral vision. “Having trouble there, Riley?” He mocked in Simon’s direction as Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. He’d love to punch that stupid face right now, but he couldn’t as you were here, and he was trying to keep up his gentleman look for you, to impress you. “Piss off, Mike.” He stated in pure irritation.

Mike rolled his eyes as he looked towards you now, looking at you with the same dumb smirk. “Hey, how about you ditch this greaseball for the rest of the party? You’d have a much better time with me. I’m the Quarterback after all, I know how to have real fun. Besides, it’s always nice to have the top score girl with me.” Mike bragged as he gave you a wink, trying to impress you with his ‘charm’.

I cringed at Mike, he was mean and had a huge ego. “Mike not now.” I firmly said

Mike’s attitude changed instantly once you spoke up to him, he gave a slight scoff at first before he nodded his head and smirked again. “Alright, alright, we’ll just catch up later, yeah?” He said as he turned, heading back over to his friends. He was trying to put up his cool act, but in reality he was quite annoyed that Simon was able to get you before he did, he had hoped you’d be distracted by the party.

Once he was away, Simon let out a growl. He was really annoyed with Mike, that man was a pain to deal with. He wasn’t sure why he even showed up to the party itself, it was just his luck that the first time he tried to impress someone, Mike would annoy him. “Sorry about him. That man’s an ass, and an idiot.” He scoffed as he took another sip from the drink.

I rolled my eyes “trust me I know, I try to keep it nice because he’s my friend but I understand your feelings.”

Simon nodded his head, he understood keeping it nice because he’s your friend, he wasn’t exactly a friend of Mike’s. “You’re a better person than me because of that, I have no idea how you can put up with that guy. He’s such a pain in the ass, and I’ve only really talked with him a handful of times. I can’t imagine having to deal with him for such a long time.” He scoffed as he looked down at his beer in his hands again.

“How exactly did your friendship with him start, anyway?” He asked as he looked back over to you, his curious nature getting the better of him. He couldn’t understand how anyone could even get along with such an unpleasant person, he just couldn’t understand it, and he wanted to know the answer. How could they end up becoming friends? That was an unlikely friendship if he ever saw one.

I grabbed his beer out of the hand and started drinking, I tried not to give a sour face because this beer tasted awful “same friend group, kind of a hierarchy shit you see in movies I guess..”

Seeing you drink from his beer took him by surprise. He hadn’t expected that, but if he was being honest, the fact that your lips had been on what his lips touched moments before was kind of hot in his mind, he tried shaking the idea from his head. “Oh, I guess that makes a little sense.” He said with a small shrug of his shoulders as he watched you drink again.

I don’t know if it was the beer or just me and I looked at him head to toe “the scars, the hoodie.. why?”

His eyes widen slightly as he looks at you, surprised by your question. He didn’t expect you to ask, most people didn’t. He gave a heavy sigh as he looked down for a moment as if thinking of what to say. “I don’t really like people seeing my scars. They’re not exactly pleasant on the eyes.” He said in a low, gravelly voice as he looked down, his shoulders slumped down as he looked away from you completely.

Seeing him look down made you realize he didn’t exactly like the scars, he was ashamed of them. This made you sympathize for him as you reached out to run your fingers over his left muscular arm. Scars covered it, and he flinched a bit at the feeling, but he didn’t pull his arm away, he simply watched your hand touch his arm.

“It’s not something to be ashamed of, it means you survived something and it has a meaningful story. Keep that in your head from now on.” I said trying to lighten the mood

The feeling of your fingers tracing along his scars made him shiver a bit, but this time it wasn’t from being uncomfortable. He felt good. He let out a small huff of a chuckle. “Well, I guess you aren’t wrong there. I’ll try to remember that next time someone comments on them.” He said with a very small smile creeping onto his face as he looked down at the hand tracing on his scars.

He slowly felt himself relax as he watched your hand slowly trace along his scars. It felt as though your touch was healing in a way, his muscles relaxed and felt less tense. “You sure do know how to make things seem lighter than they are.” He said with a small chuckle as he slowly looked back up at you, meeting your eyes with his brown ones. He couldn’t help it, he was entranced by your eyes, they were hypnotizing.

I smiled and looked in my bag and saw the 2 pre-rolls Mike’s friend gave me earlier in the night I took them out of my bag and lit one up “seems we need to lighten it more. Here have some.”

Simon’s eyes widened, and he looked at the joint you were holding out for him to take. He looked surprised at first, but then he slowly took it, bringing it up to his lips, and taking a long puff and letting out the smoke after a couple seconds, his brown eyes closing as the smoke left his mouth. He took a moment to let that stuff into his lungs before he opened his eyes back up, and looked at you. “I didn’t know you did that kind of thing. Interesting.” He said as he took another puff, a small grin forming on his face.

I chuckled, I loved how he knew nothing at all it felt amazing to just be me “I’m a woman full of surprises”

He chuckled a small laugh as he leaned a bit closer to you as he took another puff, inhaling the smoke before exhaling it out again, he was getting more relaxed around you now thanks to the drugs. “Now that I like.” He said with a small smile, his dark brown eyes looking over you with intense interest and desire, the drugs had just enhanced his feelings for you, and he was feeling them now.

He took another puff as he felt his brain beginning to get clouded, he didn’t care at the moment, all that mattered was being near you and talking with you for now, not whatever else was going on. He was feeling a bit high now, his eyes a bit glazed over and heavy. He looked over you again with a lustful look in his eyes.

His heart was beating faster, the drugs were making him feel a rush, and combined with how beautiful you were making it stronger. He was trying to keep his cool, but his feelings were overriding his cool attitude. “Damn… you’re so gorgeous…” he said in a gravelly voice, the words almost slipping out of his mouth by accident as he exhaled the smoke from the joint. It was a bit of a mistake on his part, but it was what he really felt.

He leaned in closer to you, his head spinning from the drugs and the alcohol combined. However it just felt good. Everything was perfect right now. He leaned in closer to you, still looking at you in your eyes, he didn’t care if you pushed up away, his whole focus right now was just on you. “You’re the only thing around right now that matters..” he said with heavy breath, his intense brown eyes staring deep into yours.

With all caution thrown to the wind, he leaned in to press you into a deep, intense kiss. The drugs and alcohol had affected his brain to the point where he threw any sort of logic away and just followed his emotions fully. He wanted to kiss you so badly, he wanted to hold you and never let go, he never felt this before.

The kiss was intense, his lips on yours, his tongue slipping out and sliding along yours, as he put his arm around your waist and used his other free hand to hold your face. He held the kiss on your lips, he never wanted to stop as his heart pounded in his chest.

I stopped mid kiss “let’s get out of here and go to my car, shall we?” I smiled also being heavily clouded by the pre rolls

His head was still spinning, but he was brought back to reality as you pulled away from the kiss, but his mind was still not fully there. He slowly nodded his head as his brain began to process your question. “Sounds great…” he replied in a breathy and clouded voice as he took a deep puff of the joint before putting it out on the table beside the chair he was sitting in.

With the pre roll out, he stood up and stumbled for a moment, being quite drunk and high at the same time did a number on him, but then he regained his balance. He looked down at you with his hands inside of the pockets of his hoodie as he slowly looked down at you with the same clouded expression and intense brown eyes full of lust and desire, wanting only one thing from you now.

“Lead the way…” he muttered, waiting for you to start towards the front door, his mind filled with nothing but wanting you alone with him in your car, he wanted you all to himself.

As he followed you towards the car, he was still stumbling a bit, but he managed to stay upright and follow you outside to your car. Once he got outside, he took a deep breath of the warm night air and groaned softly, it felt amazing in his lungs. He then continued to follow you over to your car, his eyes never leaving your body as he did.

Once he got to the car, he leaned back against the backseat door as he watched you unlock the car to get inside, his eyes scanning down your body, taking in every inch of you with his eyes, committing that image to memory as he got more and more excited to be alone with you.

As the lock clicked off, he watched as you opened the door, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he couldn’t wait to get inside the car.  He lunged at you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you up against him, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His tongue immediately slid across your lips, trying to force its way into your mouth as he desperately made out with you against the side of the car.

His body was pressed up against you as his hand slipped under your shirt, feeling your bare skin against his hand as he slowly slid his hand further up your body. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along yours passionately as his body burned with need for yours, he needed you now, more than ever.

As his hand slid up your stomach, he felt your muscles underneath your skin, he felt you shiver a bit under his touch, which made him almost melt. He continued sliding his hand further up, wanting to feel more of you. He was so hungry for you now, he couldn’t get enough of you.

Suddenly, his hand reached your breast, he gasped slightly as he felt it under his palm, the feeling of you made him feel as though he had gone to heaven and back all in a matter of seconds. He groaned softly as he deepened the kiss further, his body pushed up against yours as he got even more desperate for you.

As he felt your breath on his face, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, now. He kissed you even rougher for a few more moments before he pulled away, his breath heavy and his eyes cloudier than ever before. “Get in the car…” he mumbled, his gravelly voice low and huskier than before as he watched you with hazy, intense eyes.

As he said this, he quickly pushed the passenger side door behind him open before he wrapped his arm around your waist a bit roughly to pull you into the back seat of the car with him. He slammed the door behind him, his hands still holding onto your waist as he sat you down right in front of him.

I got rid of my shirt and skirt I was so hazy from the drugs yet I wanted him, the feeling of his muscles were amazing.

As you climbed into the car in front of him, his hands still holding your waist as he pushed you down on your back on the back seat. His brain was foggy from the drugs and alcohol, and his body was completely overwhelmed by his own desire for you. As you got rid of your shirt and skirt, his eyes widened slightly and his mouth went slack, looking at you. He couldn’t believe his eyes at your sudden boldness.

His eyes slowly roamed down over your now exposed body, taking in every inch of you. He was overwhelmed with the desire to touch you, to taste you, to make you his. He reached out a hand to softly brush his fingers up your thigh, his touch warm and light as he looked down at you, his own muscular body looming over your now nearly naked form.

His eyes roamed again, his fingers brushing higher up your thigh as he slowly reached up further and further to touch more of your bare skin. He slowly moved himself as he got over your hips, pushing his own hips against yours as he leaned down over you, his face right above yours as he hovered above you.

His breath was heavy as he hovered there, his breath mingling with yours as he looked down at you. His hazy eyes scanning over your figure laying underneath him, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, it was almost unfair. He slowly leaned down, his head moving to the crook of your neck as he started to trail kisses down it, his body pressing up against yours.

His kisses were soft and heated, as his body pressed against yours heavily, he couldn’t get enough of you. He felt as though he was obsessed and couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth began to move lower, trailing down over your collarbones, across your chest and down to your stomach, his arms slowly running along your sides to feel your skin under his fingertips.

He continued to trail kisses along your skin, wanting to worship every inch of you, wanting to make you feel so good you were left breathless. His mouth moved down, until he reached your stomach, where he began to leave more soft kisses along the muscles of it, his teeth occasionally grazing against your skin lightly.

His body pushed up against yours as he moved down further, his tongue slowly trailing down between your hip bones, the feeling of him against you making you whimper softly, he was determined to make you moan for him, he wanted to hear what all the different sounds you could make would sound like.

And I did I felt so aroused by him “si..” I whimpered

He groaned softly at your whimper, the sound was music to his ears, as he felt his own excitement increase as he felt his own desire growing by the second. His tongue continued to slowly slide against your underwear, wanting to hear more of those wonderful noises from you.

His tongue continued to move, his breaths becoming heavier as his heart beat faster, he couldn’t get enough of you. He needed to taste more, he slowly licked at your underwear, wanting to push further to taste you directly, his tongue slowly began to get you through your underwear and tasted you directly, his body pressing up against you as he groaned softly into your sensitive flesh, his mind hazy with desire for you, he couldn’t concentrate at all, the only thing

That mattered was your reactions to his touches, he slowly pressed deeper with it, his body moving up to be closer to you, his arms moving up and wrapping around your waist, his muscles flexing as he slowly moved, trying to get deeper

His hips moved up yours, slowly, as his grip around your waist tightened slightly more as he slowly grinded against you, needing to feel your body against his, it drove him crazy not having enough of you.

His mouth continued to slowly work at you, his groans into your sensitive area making you quiver at the feeling, his tongue and mouth working together to get you closer to release, he couldn’t get enough of you right now.

“Shit si… undo your pants right now.” I commanded

At your command, he wasted no time in moving right away, his excitement getting the best of him as he groaned and quickly moved his hands away from your waist and down to his pants, undoing the fly of his sweats.

“Just can’t get enough of me, huh?” He said, his voice having that same gravelly sound to it, and a little rougher than usual, he was still so excited, and yet he couldn’t stop that teasing comment from coming out. He smirked as he leaned back down over you, his chest against yours as his hips were now right up against yours.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips passionately as he let out a little growl against your mouth, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close against him as he kept kissing you.

His kisses were rough and a bit needy, you could tell that he was desperate for your touch, and as hard as he tried to hide that, he couldn’t as he moaned softly into your softly into your mouth, he was losing himself to you and he loved it.

His body pressed against you, pressing you down into the backseat as his hands moved up you, touching and feeling your skin, he couldn’t get enough of touching you, his hand slid a bit up your back to feel along your spine.

His kisses were needier now, deeper, as he let his tongue out to slide across yours, he loved how you tasted, and now he couldn’t get enough of you, he deepened the kiss further as his tongue swirled around yours, his body pressing even closer to yours.

He groaned into your mouth from his own excitement, loving the way your moans tasted in his mouth. He kept his body pressed close to yours as his hips started rolling against yours, moaning softly from just the feel of your body against his.

He started to grind in your cunt, he couldn’t take it anymore and wanted you so bad.

He was huge, a swollen cock with a lot of precum, as he inserts himself (sorry Bridgerton joke) you felt his inches on your walls. It felt amazing, how could such a man who lived in the shadows give the best sex ever?

I moaned and we both were close to release “si.. I can’t.. take it longer..” I moaned him in me felt so good It felt just right

After a while we both had our climax a little after eachother.

The rest was history, all junior and senior year we dated, totally in love. Yet I noticed he started to cover himself more and more, becoming distant. Until I got the news

“I am deployed in the military.”

[annaphoenix1994]

Just a Puff

Simon Riley x Female Reader

Little short and dirty imagine inspired by this little gem of a photo here 👇🏽

Photo Credit: @BettyBRenders on Twitter! 🤌🏽😍

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” She asked, joining Simon on the rear patio of their home.

“Nothing. Not this time.” He breathed, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing a cloud through the thin air, a glass of bourbon clutched between his thumb and index finger.

“That’s a scary thought,” She hummed, clutching her robe tighter around her shoulders, her hand tracing the curve of his shoulder through his jacket as she stalked around him, smirking before straddling his lap, giggling at how he tilted his head to avoid blowing smoke in her face as she sat at the same time he took a drag. “Got another?”

“Not a chance, love,” He smirked, shaking his head. “These can kill you.”

She watched as he took another drag, longer than one of his previous ones as his cigarette was nearly burned to the filter. Licking her lips, she waited until he exhaled, placing her lips on his and inhaling what had escaped his lungs with a giggle, Simon watching with an arched brow as he watched the smoke leave her nostrils while she exhaled. “You fuckin’ minx,” He smirked playfully, his grip tightening on her hip after he had set his glass of whiskey aside, tapping her rear with a smack.

“Just a puff, baby. I’m a little on edge…” She giggled, licking her lips before leaning in for another kiss.

“I’ll put you on the fuckin’ edge alright,” He hissed. “Never thought smoking could look so hot.”

“I’m just that good.” She toyed.

“Let’s find out how good you are.”

[girlmeetscruelworldxx]

Main Masterlist

Requests: For now, I will take requests for characters to put on this list, but will stop eventually. If you want a specific story written about someone on this list, I will do that.

Boundaries: Please be respectful of my boundaries. I won’t write trans stories, gay stories (mxmxf/fxfxm 3somes are excluded), or anything along those lines, simply because that’s not what I’m into, NO HATE TO THE COMMUNITY!!!

……………………………….

• One Direction (No Liam because it feels disrespectful)

Harry Styles

Zayn Malik

Niall Horan

Louis Tomlinson

• The OG Bloodline

Roman Reigns

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

Solo Sikoa

•WWE

• Call of Duty

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” MacTavish

Captain Price

Gaz

Alex Keller

Alejandro Vargas

• The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Glynn Rhee

Negan Smith

Shane Walsh

Abraham Ford

Tyreese Williams

• Random Characters

Rio (Good Girls)

Theo James

Miguel O’Hara (Across The Spider Verse)

………………………………..

Give me more requests please🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Blow up my inbox with requests

[ryololart]

18+ yall minors dni

So like i was thinking simon amd evans sex life honestly its prob super lowkey. They both have extensive history of sexual trauma so i doubt they would be doing anything super crazy.

Evan

- def has a higher drive than simon, which isnt saying much.

- She grew up viewing sex as more violent than anything else. She is def of cannibalism as a metaphor for love kinda girl. Having sex for her is more just shutting up the voices so she can go back to work.

- she is INFATUATED with simon tho. She knows everyone single scar on his body, every bump and ridge of the puffy skin. She loves dragging her finger tips down his back and leaving bruises on his neck.

- she is a jealous freak too. Nothing will get her more hot and bothered than some other girl flirting with him. She will grab him by the collar and drag him off to fuck him in a storage closet. Thats her man.

- she doesnt have any like specific kinks or nothing. Shes a vanilla girl with a thing for soft and slow sex. Only thing might be praise bc she loves being told she is good at something. She needs that confidence boost.

Simon

- simon just wants to be loved and show his girl he loves her too. Evan has this thing where she second guesses if he really loves her because shes so messed up. He doesnt always know to verbalize how much he loves her so he shows her instead.

- he doesnt really get jealous bc he knows evan cant even imagine anyone else romantically, sometimes he’ll put a hand on her thigh or a hand on her back if a man gets too close tho. Thats his woman >:/

- seeing her wear her wedding band at work does make him want to lock his office door and clear his calendar.

- sex to him is making love to the girl he wants to spend the rest of life with not just fucking.

- hes not one for rough degrading sex, its soft and silly. They both laugh and joke around, soft gasps and kisses. Its two people who love each other more than anything else in this world.

- sometimes he might get a little ambitious and tell her how good she is to him with a hand round her neck, otherwise its vanilla asf.

- he likes being told hes doing good to :))))))

I am not a smut writer AT ALL

I cringed making this but i wanted to

[bigfathoe4you]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Preface:

My zombies are not dead, they are infected with a disease which makes them hungry, they are not decomposing or mindless, they are driven insane by the pain of hunger and the things they’ve done so in a sense they die. They are loosely based on a book called ashes by Ilsa J. Bick, a very good angsty zombie book with very little romance.

This fic is set in the north west of England, to make it plausible for the MC to stumble upon the 141. Being Scottish myself I would love to make the MC Scottish and move the fic to the highlands, but I want some feedback on that.

TW: Death of a friend/sister, skinny reader (she fattens up), a lot of gross descriptions of zombies and death, angst lots, smut in later chapters.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from living 6 years in a zombie apocalypse it’s “waste not, want not.” That was the thought that kept me from gagging at the smell of the jacket that I shook rotten skin off of. Rising I looked down at the skinny, pale ‘woman’ I’d pried it from. had she done the same? How many people have died in this jacket? Would I die in the cold, spend years wandering, Killing others, feeling a deep painful unending hunger?

I looked down at her failing body, before the fall of humanity these jeans would have been 2 sizes too small, the shirt about 3 or 4. I’d lost all shape, hadn’t had a period in years, my skin looked a shade darker thanks to the many layers of dirt that clung to me. I once took pride in my appearance, now my crowning achievement was surviving for this long by myself.

Taking one last sweep of the shop I found a grey eyed boy, looked about 19, his cheeks sagged and the bags under his eyes were bulging, purply red. His pale cheeks were littered with peach fuzz and tear stained, his nose a pudgy red from his quiet sobs. He groaned in pain as he pulled a skinny rat apart, sucking on the small bones. He looked up at me from his crouched position and growled, his primitive brain deciding if he should run with his meal or if he could take me. He twitched his way to his feet dropping the rat at his feet.

Before his skinny legs could take him to me I’d pulled the gun from my waistband and shot a few small holes through his chest. He let out some muffled whimpers as he crumpled to the floor, I followed him to the floor. I had grown to feel very little but when they looked so young it hurt. I stroked his thinning hair and shushed him whilst he hacked up blood and shook.

The trek back to base was long but quiet, the marshy ground of the north west sucked my feet deep into the ground, the ‘suctiony’ sound that emitted from dragging my feet drowned out my own thoughts. As the base came into view my steps hurried, eager to get inside, it was tuesday (possibly) which meant it was my allotted bath day, due to the difficulty of moving the water from the various rain collectors and the calories it cost, I allowed myself a bath every two weeks. 

The hard metal door bit at my reddening fingers as I fumbled with the keys, reminding me I needed to organise them somehow. I huffed at the effort it took to pull the second interior door open and closed, it had been ripped off its hinges and now scratched across the cold linoleum as I dragged it about. When I finally got inside I relocked every door I walked through to get to the innermost rooms of the base. Whilst people were rare- some zombies in the early stages retained the ability to open and close doors. 

I went to the woodburner and warmed the deer from the outdoor freezer. Most livestock like cattle and sheep were almost hunted to extinction by the zombies but some animals like deer and rabbits remained too fast for zombies. But not me and my gun. I cooked the whole leg, I’d refreeze the tougher bits and keep them for on the go.

Whilst the deer cooked I used my pot to boil some water for my bath. It was more of a sponge bath really, getting fully naked and into a slippery tub was inviting trouble. I used some watered down fairy liquid and an old PT (psychical training, yeah I did cadets so I’m qualified to tell you all about it) shirt to scrub at my skin, one limb at a time.

I pulled one leg out of my jeans leaving the boot and jeans scrunched so I could haul them back up if I needed to. And it was a good thing I did as I was picking dirt out of my scabby skinned knee, I heard a scrapping. My blood ran cold and I almost wept at the sound. 

Scrambling to put my jeans and boots back on. With each creak of a door opening and closing and the low raspy voices of men my hands shook more. 

And when I heard the noise that I knew to be the particularly squeezy door to the room I’d claimed as my own, I almost turned the gun on myself. There were at least 2 men and they knew there was a woman living here.

Steeling myself and setting my footing I readied myself in the middle of the room, no hiding the only power I have is I am pointing my gun at the single door to this room.

The kitchen door moved to open easily and a silhouetted figure pulled every shadow from the room and they pooled at this man's feet, he stood easily a foot taller than myself. The imposing figure took up almost the entire doorway. Although there were no shadows, it was only him, he dressed all in black, tactical gear and a dark balaclava covered his entire being. This man may be death itself.

“Fuck off.” A man wriggled around ‘death’ “Nae way!” barreling towards me a man not as tall as ‘Death’ but just as large wrapped strong arms around me.

My plans crumbled and I lost any ability to remain calm or strong were lost to me. “Please! Please there are guns, ammo, food! If you leave me alone I- I’ll tell you where” the words were choked out of me and my sweaty hands shook looking for my gun. 

The man pulled back but I couldn’t see through the tears that blinded me “It’s- It’s me Johnny” the voice and name were familiar. Strong hands snaked up my arms and held me at my shoulders “oh, darlin’ we’d never hurt you” he put a hand on my cheek and slowly brought my eyes to him. I almost gagged on my tears looking at him, my best friend's older brother, I looked at him and saw her. Alex, my other half, our whole lives attached at the hip, her death had hurt more than any of the rest. 

“Oh Johnny, I’m so sorry” his excitement at seeing me faded to the most hollow I’d ever seen a man. We sank to our knees together, forgetting the man in the doorway. I pushed our brows together “It was quick, I did it” I whispered to him, as I saw the small tears slip down his cheek. 

xx

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Tags:

@audie-writes

[psychotic4ghost]

:Siren & The 141:

A/n: This was weirdly difficult to write. I struggle with smut sometimes so I hope this is at least alright. Enjoy! WC: 2451 Masterlist prev pt next pt

🚨 Warnings 🚨 Smut (18+ MDNI), language, scars, pinv, cunnilingual, unprotected sex (rubber up sillys),

Chapter 4 - A Sleepless Night*

“Y-you’re putting me in a weird p-position, Lieutenant.” Mykie didn’t know what to say, she wanted to say yes, but she was scared and wanted to say no. What would this do to their bond as teammates, what would this do to her mentally, and what could this do to the team? Mykie’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. 

“Mykie, you can say no. If I scared you, I’m sorry.” Ghost responded, leaning back a little. 

Mykie shook her head quickly. “G-Ghost…I have no issues with this, I just…” She trailed off not being able to make eye contact with Ghost. 

Ghost chuckled. “I won’t harm you if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I…um…also didn’t expect this…from you. The others hit on me all the time. I know they’re always joking but, I don’t think you’re joking…and you’ve never talked t-to me like this.” Mykie struggled to find the right words. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t usually talk like this. And I’ve never spoken to any female that’s been on the team like this.” Ghost chuckled more. 

“W-would the mask come off?” Mykie asked as she focused on breathing. 

“No. Unless you really want it to.”

“It can say…” Mykie said, slowly realizing she basically just agreed to have sex with the top of this team, the scariest of them all. Her Lieutenant. 

“Is that a yes, Mykie? I need to hear an actual ‘yes’. I won’t act on anything without consent.” Ghost questioned. 

Mykie nodded her head slowly. 

“I need to hear it. This isn’t me teasing you.” Ghost enforced. 

“Y-yes…” Mykie stuttered, her eyes were closed, and any confidence that started to come back quickly left again. “Why me?”

“Good question, I think because you’re the first to really try to talk to me. Not like Soap does. Soap jokes around, but we’ve never been personal before. No one has cried in my arms.” Ghost admitted. “You made me feel different than I usually do. And after watching you almost get killed, while I sat waiting, not being able to see what was happening in that room, hearing you swear at them, then the gunshot, hearing you in pain, it made me feel something different.” Ghost sighed. “It’s weird for me too…”

“I…I’m shocked.” Myke straightened her back. 

“You and me both.” Ghost looked Mykie in the eyes. Mykie looked away quickly, the blush coming back, this time in full force. 

“How about I be a man of my word?” Ghost asked as he took a step closer, he held out his hand for her to take. 

They continued their short walk to Mykie’s room, “Why my room?” Mykie asked as she pulled out her keycard. 

“We can go to mine if you’d like, I just don’t usually let people in.” 

Mykie pushed open her door, nodding her head, “This is fine.” 

Ghost lightly pushed Mykie further into her room. “Ghost…I should tell you…I’ve never done this…before.” Mykie admitted.

“I’ll take it slow. I promise.” Ghost informed as he pulled the black baklava up over his nose, bits of his dirty blonde hair were visible now at the nape of his neck. He slowly walked her back to the bed, she felt the bed hit the back of her knees and sat. 

“Blonde…” Mykie mumbled as she looked up at him in awe. 

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes I even forget I have blonde hair.” Ghost chuckled. “May I?” He asked as he held out a hand near her cheek. It was her bruised cheek. 

“Carefully, that’s…that’s where they hit me.” Mykie closed her eyes, ready to feel pain. His hand lightly caressed her cheek. She didn’t feel any pain, he was so surprisingly gentle. His hand retreated, he pulled off his gloves and continued to hold her cheek. Mykie kept her eyes closed, scared she might run if she opened them. She could feel a light amount of heat coming closer to her lips, and soon after, soft and warm lips touched hers lightly. Mykie reached out in front of her, finding his chest. She pulled her hand back for a moment before reaching out again, she gripped a small fist full of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Slow down there, lovie.” Ghost chuckled as he parted from the kiss. Mykie let out a quiet whimper. “I heard that.” 

“S-sorry.” Mykie blushed even harder, she pulled her head and arms closer to herself. 

“No need to be sorry, love. I just want to take it slow, for you.” 

Mykie shook her head, she wanted him closer. She opened her eyes slowly, he was a lot closer than she expected. His face was only inches from hers. She locked eyes with him, noticing how beautiful his eyes really were. 

“Up on the bed, now.” Ghost demanded. 

“I-I don’t think I can move. M-my shoulder, I can’t put weight on this arm.” Mykie informed him as she rubbed her left shoulder. 

Ghost nodded, he scooped his arms under her legs and behind her back, he picked her up with no resistance. Ghost gently placed her higher up on the bed, her back against her pillow and her legs out in front of her. “Comfortable?” 

Mykie nodded her head. “Thanks, sorry you had to do that.” 

“You’re not used to letting people do things for you, are you? I saw how you acted when the boys rescued you.” Ghost guessed. 

“N-no. I had to do pretty much everything for myself.” 

“Not tonight. Just sit back and let me take the wheel, ya?” Ghost said as he climbed up on the bed and kneeled in front of her. 

“I-I can try.” Mykie nodded, and she closed her eyes again, the sight of him kneeling before her was too much to handle.

“May I touch?” Ghost asked as he hovered. 

Mykie nodded her head again. She could feel his rough fingers trace the hem of her camo sweats. He hooked two fingers into the hem and pulled down. Mykie lifted her hips up just a little to help him slip them over her butt. 

“Fuck.” Ghost mumbled under his breath. 

Mykie was already wet and the evidence was staring Ghost in the face. 

“What did it for ya? The mask? My voice? My demands?” Ghost asked, his breath clearly taken away by the sight in front of him. 

“A-all of the above…” Mykie struggled to answer. 

He let out a deep chuckle. “Legs up.” Ghost demanded. 

Mykie lifted her legs lightly, Ghost gripped the top of her underwear and pulled them down swiftly. “Jesus. Fuck.” Ghost sighed, he placed her legs up on his shoulder. 

“It’s been far too long for me, you are a sight to behold, Mykie.” Ghost complemented, his accent thick. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“I am, please Ghost, just move.” Mykie wiggled. 

“So impatient, just hold still lovie.” Ghost chuckled, he lowered himself down so his mouth was level with her entrance. Ghost stuck his tongue out, making contact with her lips. He let out a low moan, sending vibrations into Mykie’s core. 

“Oh fuck.” Mykie cursed out as she pushed her legs together. 

“Uh uh, keep 'em open.” Ghost mumbled against her core. 

Mykie struggled to keep her legs open, he hardly just started but the feeling was sending waves through her whole body already. Ghost started flicking his tongue against her clit. He would suck and lap at her sensitive bud. When he did, she could feel her legs shake even more. 

“I-I don’t kn-now how much l-longer I can l-last, Ghost.” Mykie stuttered. The sensation was pushing her to the edge, fast. 

“Just a little longer, I want more of a taste.” Ghost said as he plunged his tongue into her entrance. Mykie bucked her hips. Her back arched. He quickened his pace, thrusting his tongue in and out. The mask lifted up and his nose brushed her clit.

“Oh f-fuck. Ghost, I-I’m close already.” 

“Okay, okay.” Ghost sighed softly as he pulled his head from between her legs. She could see her juices glistening on his chin and lips. Ghost wiped away the mess before crawling over her. 

“You can still back out.” Ghost offered. 

“W-why, are you th-that big, you th-think I’ll r-run?” Mykie was trying to play it cool. Her breathing hadn’t slowed just yet. 

Ghost chuckled softly, “No, but what we are about to do is personal, you can still tell me no.” He reassured her.

“I-I still want this…” Mykie trailed off, her voice was low. 

Ghost smirked, and slowly reached for the hem of her tank top. He began pulling it up, her scar was fully visible. Mykie tried to hide it with her hands. Ghost softly pushed her hands away and over her head. “There’s no shame in the scar Mykie, look.” Ghost pulled his own shirt up and over his head. His chest was peppered with scars, some really deep and others just a graze. “See? We all carry our own scars.” 

Mykie examined his chest, she ran her hands over the scars. He had one particularly larger scar across his left pec. “These look like knife wounds.”

“You’d be correct. Most of them are from knives. Got in some pretty heated fights.” Ghost informed her. 

Mykie could see the muscles in his arms tense when she touched him more. She trailed her eyes down his whole chest till her eyes fell upon his jeans. He was noticeably hard. Mykie dropped her one hand back above her head, her other laid at her side. Ghost took this as a sign, he continued to lift her tank top over her head. She too had more scars. Small ones that peppered her shoulders and her chest. 

“Lift up a little.” Ghost ordered, Mykie lifted her back off the bed slightly, just enough for Ghost’s hand to slither underneath and unclasp her bra. He wasted no time placing his lips on her breasts. Mykie arched her back at the contact. 

He snaked his other hand along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to her heat once more. Slowly, and carefully, Ghost slipped one finger inside. She let out a gasp as she bit her lip. He pumped inside of her a few times before adding another finger. He moved in and out quickly while his thumb rubbed at her clit. 

Moans slipped from Mykie’s mouth. She clasped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her moans. She didn’t need the rest of the squad hearing her moans. 

Her legs began to shake, another wave was washing over her, and she was close. But before she could let him know, he pulled his fingers from her and popped off her breast. Ghost sat up on his knees which were straddled on either side of Mykie’s legs. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

“Are you still sure?” Ghost asked one last time. 

Mykie, who was watching in anticipation, quickly nodded her head, “If you ask that again, I’m gonna start begging.” Mykie huffed, she was still exhausted from her last stolen high. “You’ve robbed me of two orgasms now, Ghost. Don’t make me start begging.” 

“Is that so?” Ghost asked, a smirk playing on his lips.  “Beg.”

Mykie let out a soft whimper as Ghost undid his pants fully and dropped them around his hips, he wasted no time in pulling his black boxers down with them. He sprang free, very clearly hard and ready to go. “Oh f-fuck…” Mykie mewled. 

“I-I don’t have any condoms. Not even in my room.” Ghost pulled back from her a little. 

“It’s not foolproof but I am on the pill,” Mykie reassured. 

“Perfect.” Ghost snarled as he dropped himself over her, he held up his weight as he hovered over her. He practically engulfed her small frame with his body. 

Mykie looked up at him with pleading eyes. “P-please. Don’t make me b-beg. J-just do it.” 

“As you wish.” Ghost didn’t hesitate lining his cock up with her entrance. He was huge, bigger than any toy she had used before. “Ready?”

Mykie nodded her head quickly, she wrapped her good arm around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. Just as she attached her lips to his, he pushed inside her, inch by inch. Mykie gasped against his lips. Ghost stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust. It wasn’t until Mykie started wiggling her hips, that he started thrusting. He started off slow, making sure she was comfortable, watching her breathing with each thrust. 

“Faster…please…” Mykie begged softly against his lips. 

Ghost moaned his response as he picked up the speed. He was moving quickly, keeping a steady pace as he thrust into her. Both let moans spill out against each other's lips as they both reached their high. 

“I-I’m…n-not gonna…cum in you. N-not this time…” Ghost said in-between huffs and pants. 

“Th-this time?” Mykie asked as she also began panting. 

“Y-you…oh f-fuck…heard me.” Ghost was reaching his own high. “Cum, cum when y-you’re…ready,” Ghost said in-between grunts and moans. 

Mykie began to tighten around him, her legs wrapped around his hips tightly. Her nails dug into his back and neck as she hit her climax. “Fuck fuck…oh my god…” Mykie moaned out as she came.

Ghost continued thrusting, riding out Mykie’s high. As soon as she relaxed he could feel his end nearing. He quickly pulled out, releasing his hot seed onto her tummy. “F-fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He said through more huffs. 

“It’s o-okay.” Mykie giggled.  “There’s some tissues on the nightstand.” She was still trying to calm her breathing. 

“Let me.” Ghost said as he reached for the tissues. After cleaning her up, he pulled his pants up and pulled the black baklava back over his mouth. 

“Could you…could you grab me one of the t-shirts hanging up in my closet?” Mykie asked as she pulled her arm over her breast, now feeling exposed.  Ghost didn’t hesitate to grab her the shirt she requested. 

“That’s a little big for you, don’t you think?” Ghost chuckled as he handed her the shirt. 

“The bigger the shirt, the more comfortable I am.” Mykie put the shirt on carefully. 

After some more aftercare, Ghost finally spoke up. “I’m going to sneak back to my room tonight, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” Ghost lifted his baklava just enough for his jawline and lips to be exposed. He planted a light kiss on her cheek before leaving the room. 

He was much sweeter behind closed doors. He had definitely opened up more than Mykie had expected him to ever do. Starting off hating each other to her letting him take her virginity. He was gentle and loving. She held her hand to the place he kissed, savoring the feeling. 

[certifiedyapperx]

simon riley drabble • 18+

okay but like imagine you’re a member of task force 141 and you and simon have been secretly fucking for a few weeks just to ‘relieve stress’ in downtimes and in order to keep your minds focused on the tasks at hand.

which has been fine except for this very moment bc the way he’s looking at you from the opposite side of the heli has you reliving the events from earlier that morning and you find yourself staring at him for way too long before someone finally calls your name and snaps you out of it.

and even though you’ve been careful about it all the guys have their suspicions. but you two play it off so goddamn well because ghost is literally emotionless and they’re damn well convinced there’s no fucking way you’d sleep with any member of the team after having been part of it for so long and turning each one of them down a million times over. they were certain that at this point, you just obviously didn’t like men.

and that was partially correct. you didn’t like men--you liked one man. a fucking hell of a lot.

simon riley fucked you so hard so passionately and so fucking relentlessly that you could have no interest in other men. the man was insatiable. a gnawing craving eating away at his insides, a hunger that only you and you alone could sate.

the second you two were back to base, he’d drag you into the nearest fucking room and fuck you until you cried while covering your mouth to make sure no one heard a damn sound.

it was as though it was a game to him, a challenge to see how many times the two of could you fuck before you aroused suspicion, before you got caught. how close to the guys could you get, how many orgasms you could have before you broke entirely. every time you fucked it was like he was trying to set a new record.

and every time, he did just that.

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Choose Your Ending)

(Photo Cred: @chatskaja on twitter) <3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get locked out on Valentine's Day and have to sleep over at a certain Lt.'s flat.

C/W: Reader is dressed a little inappropriately

A/N: Never tried something like this before so I hope it buffs out. Also, super late Valentine's fic whoops

Word Count: 1k

“What do you mean he’s not available?!” You stand with your forehead against your door.

“Barrack’s manager is out on leave, he’ll be back tomorrow. Recommend you stay with a friend for now.”

“Wait! Where’s the emergency ma-” *click*

What the fuck!

You huff, banging your head against the outside of your door. Today was one of the worst days of your life. You planned a date with your boyfriend of one year only to be dumped right before you were supposed to meet up. And after bawling your eyes out decide to run out to the fountain to get back the hydration you lost.

The redness around your eyes finally went away but they were so puffy you couldn’t even see your keychain still hanging on the wall.

You’re now stuck in the middle of the hall on Valentine’s Day in a short tank top and your bedtime booty shorts hoping a soul doesn’t appear and see you with all your goods hanging out.

The barracks manager - or whoever that was - told you to find a friend. You didn’t have any here. You’d been in the unit for all of five months and they weren’t all that accepting of new people. They oozed the “prove yourself worthy of our clan” mentality. You roll your eyes just at the thought.

Ughhh. I really don’t want to.

You whine internally as you pull up Cpt. Price’s contact on your phone hoping you’re not interrupting anything.

“Sergeant y/n, what’s the purpose of your call?” He sounds annoyed. You hear a feminine voice in the background and him softly shooshing it.

“Sir! I’ve been locked out of my room and the primary barracks manager won’t be in till tomorrow. I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” His voice strains lightly. He’s quiet for a moment and you’re unsure if you’re supposed to say something or…

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll message you soon.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’d contact the emergency manager and they’ll come unlock your door.

You stand with your arms crossed, back against the cold wall for what feels like forever until your phone finally buzzes.

Cpt. Price: Bld 920 Room 1208. Stay there tonight.

You’re about to flood him with questions, like: Where’s the key? Is there someone already there? Who’s room is this? But before you’re done typing he sends one last message.

Cpt. Price: I’m busy tonight with work so no need to thank me. Or call me again.

Work…? Yeah right!

The room was at least in the same building as you. Beats trekking in the snow in slippers and the ungodly attire you have on at the moment.

You make your way up the stairs cursing the base for not putting an elevator in your building. You peer at each door while wandering further down the hall.

1206… 1207… 1208!

You take a deep breath before knocking quietly.

God, I hope it’s at least a woman.

A few seconds go by before the door swings open. You stand wide-eyed. If you had less control your jaw would be on the floor too.

You stare back at your Lt. in all his glory. He stares back at you in nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. His blond hair is disheveled, the color matching the patch of hair on his bare sculpted chest. You’d seen him maskless before but from afar. He’s someone many avoided, his demeanor wasn’t exactly inviting and his wrath, from the rumors, was even worse.

The light flooding through the door frame illuminates his face enough to show the fine features up close. The scars running through his lips and cheeks only add to the stirring inside you that’s leaving you speechless. 

As you try to stop yourself from ogling him right here and now he notices your eyes popping out of your skull and softly blows air out of his nose.

Is he laughing at me?

He decides to finally break the staring contest.

“What d’you want, pet?”

You stutter a bit before getting the words out,

“I got locked out, the captain told me to come here. He didn’t tell me it was your place.”

It was his turn to let his eyes wander. His eyes rake over your tank top, your arm over your chest to conceal the fact you’re braless, your exposed stomach and shorts that barely did their job as clothes. You stand there waving your water bottle around as you speak, completely unaware of the look on his face.

A smirk pulls at one of his lips as he listens to you ramble about the barracks managers not doing their jobs. Your voice gradually gets higher the angrier you get.

“What the hell are you wearin’?” He interrupts.

“Why are you answering the door half-naked?” You shoot back.

He sneers, “You show up at my door wantin’ a place to stay and you have an attitude?” He pulls his phone from his pocket seeing a barely coherent message from Price.

“Fine. No point in arguin’, Price is probably with the missus, doesn’t want to be bothered.” He steps to the side allowing you to come in. You cautiously accept and step into the space.

His place was neat, and well-kept, more like an apartment rather than the prison they kept you in. You turn back to look at him and notice the tattoos covering the skin of his arm. He pretends not to notice you checking him out as he walks to the hallway closet and pulls out a pillow and blanket.

He hands them to you, “Is that enough or d’you need a bedtime story too?”

“Little Red Riding Hood’s my favorite, please.” You snark, as you drop the pillow and lean over to throw the blanket over the cushions. You swear you hear his breath catch in his throat but get quickly covered up by him clearing his throat.

“So… What are you up to on Valentine’s Day?” You prod hoping to learn something about the most feared individual of the unit.

“Just another day, means nothin’.” He leans against the wall behind him. You sit with your legs crossed on the almost comically large couch, probably custom-made for his giant ass. You lean on your hand and look up at him.

“Is that so?”

“What happened to that muppet you’re always moanin’ bout? Should be with him.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Nah, he’s no good. Decided he liked by friend better.” You laugh sadly. “Can’t seem to keep them this time of year. I’m too cool for it.” You try to joke but end up cringing on the inside. His chest rises with a soft chuckle.

“That right?”

“You know it.” You wink at him.

The two of you go quiet for a moment. 

He decides to break the silence.

”You want some tea, love?

*** Decision Time ***

Why not? I'm already here and he's being nice. Sure, I'll have some tea.

Or...

I don't wanna be a bother. He's already having to let me stay over. I'm gonna pass on tea.

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Ending: You didn't take the tea)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

C/W: Smut, unprotected P in V, Somnophilia, poor foreplay, possessiveness

Word Count: 1k

Previous part

“You want some tea, love?”

***

You’re inclined to accept but don’t want to be too demanding while he’s so kind to let you sleep on his couch. 

You put on your best smile, “I’m alright, thank you.”

”I thought I’d offer, keep your head up, yeah?” He says sympathetically before heading off down the hallway. You turn off the floor lamp at the other end of the couch and scroll through your phone, mentally scolding yourself every time you think about going to your ex’s socials to see if he’d posted any pictures of him and your ex-best friend. Your heart pangs with sadness. You dared to open yourself up to two people and got humiliated twice over. You bite back tears, throwing your phone down and trying your best to fall asleep despite the gaping hole in your chest. 

Simon struggled with sleep usually. It wasn’t something he shared with just anyone. He tosses and turns all night and when he does finally find the slumber he’s chasing he’ll jerk awake at the scenes of horrible memories that weigh heavily on his mind. But tonight was different.

The ‘intel girl’ was finally within reach. The boys at work would go quiet every time she would walk by and once she disappeared they talked about their various plans to be the one to chat her up.

He lies awake with his thoughts racing, thinking of her. Thinking of the way she looked at him when he opened his door to her. The way her tank top clung to her, the supple flesh of her breasts outlined perfectly, and the image burned into his mind of when she leaned over the couch, her shorts riding up her toned thighs and the curve of her ass… He felt as if he was running a fever.

He throws the covers to the side letting the cool air hit his overheated skin. He readjusts his sweats, setting his manhood free. He strokes himself to mental images of you to no avail. It’s not enough for him after having you so close. He yearns to feel your skin against his, the need eats away at him. 

His mind begins to tell him that you need him, heartbroken and so needy. Why else would you show up looking the way you did? What if getting locked out of your room was just a scheme to get near him?

He knows you’re attracted to him. The sly glances you always send his way when the two of you pass each other. The flustered look you get when he speaks to you, no matter how brief. It had all been a call to him, of all the men hunting for you, you’d already chosen him.

Before he knows it, he’s opening his bedroom door and standing over your sleeping body. You lie on your side, one palm resting atop the other. So soft in your sleep, unbothered. He wants to reach out and run his fingers over your tear-stained cheeks. 

He climbs over you and carefully lodges himself between you and the backrest. He slowly wraps his arms around you and breathes in your scent. He wonders for a moment if this is the best way to let you know the feeling is mutual, but he knows he won’t have the courage to let you know any other way.

He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder, leading them to your neck. He restrains himself from biting the skin, leaving his mark on you, afraid that it’ll wake you too soon. His rough hands squeeze your breasts, caressing them over your clothing. You stir slightly in your sleep causing him to halt for a moment. He continues his scheme and trails down your stomach slipping his hand beneath your shorts. He moves his thigh in between yours to give himself room.

The pads of his fingers rub slow circles into your clit as he lies there breathing you in. You whine in your sleep. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your delicate neck, speeding up the pace he was toying your clit with. You fuss in your sleep, the foreign feeling disrupting your dreams. Your absentminded moans spur him on. He presses his bulge against your backside, sighing into your neck.

”Simon?” You half slur half moan. He shushes you, working your clit in tight circles. Your hand grips his forearm weakly. 

“S’alright, doll. I’ve got you.”

He runs a finger over your slit feeling the drip from your cunt. He can’t contain himself any longer, needing to feel you, hear you cry out for him.

”I’m sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you.” You barely comprehend what he says. He feels bad for not preparing you properly but the blood rushing to his cock has left him painfully hard. You unknowingly contributed to the unbearable ache.

He yanks your shorts off and places your leg over his, spreading you wide open. He wraps his hand around his throbbing length and runs his leaking tip over your folds, lubricating it before he pushes into you.

The resistance forces a gasp from you, stilling your body as he carefully thrusts himself into you. You dig your nails into his thigh trying to push yourself away.

”Easy, easy.” He coos at you, caressing your back with his lips. His arms wrap around your waist, your arm trapped under his heavy biceps. He continues with his shallow thrusts until he’s almost fully in.

”I’ll stop here, love. Deep breath for me.” He speaks so lovingly between his own ragged breaths, as if he hadn’t woken you up with his hand down your shorts. You finally suck in a breath and he pulls out. He waits for you to exhale and shoves himself back in. You squeak, the friction mixes with pleasure. Your brain is still recovering from the fog and unsure if this is actually happening. He gives you a few slow thrusts before his stride increases. 

You whine loudly, not prepared for his hurried movements. He apologizes in your ear repeatedly, gasping and groaning at your tightness. 

“Fuck, I needed you so bad, love. I hope you understand.” He loses his self-restraint, littering you with bite marks, wanting it to be known that you were taken. You cry out in pain as it shoots through your neck and shoulder, his teeth digging into you. He licks the wounds, soothing your irritated skin.

He rams into your cervix and you shutter in his arms.

”Too deep!” You cry out once more. 

“Forgive me.” He brings two of his fingers to his mouth, wetting them before bringing them down once more to run frantic circles into your clit.

Your uneven gasps turn to moans and your eyes shut tightly. His thrusts are still violent and overbearing, but the tingles running through you once his fingers slip over the nub, paired together make you drool onto the pillow below you. 

His hard thrusts jolt you upwards. He growls into your neck sending shivers through your spine. 

“Simon!” You whimper. His eyes nearly roll back hearing you call out his name. 

“That’s right, doll. Say my name. Let everyone hear you.” He growls. His unoccupied hand wraps firmly around your neck. He forces your back into an arch. Taking advantage of the new angle he pounds into you, the pleasure that rolls through you is dizzying. Your legs try to close but he forces them open. Your mouth hangs but you can’t bring yourself to make a single sound.

“You look so fucking beautiful. So gorgeous.” He breathes out. Your eyebrows once furrowed from the shocks running through you with each thrust now furrow in confusion.

”Look at yourself, look how beautiful you look getting fucked by me.”

You open your eyes, looking around trying to figure out what he meant. He forces your head in the right direction and your eyes land on the reflection of the two of you off the window. 

It was hard to make out, fuzzy but from where you lied you could see your faces. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his lips parted briefly before his jaw clenched, your mouth still hanging open, legs wide. Your pussy clamps down on him when you see his hand between your legs and his cock disappearing into you. He moans and you watch as he nips your shoulder and then nudges his nose into your hair.

”Squeezin’ the life out of me, darlin’.”

The sight is so pornographic a new wave of wetness comes over you. He slips in and out of you with a delicious slickness. 

Without warning you begin spasming around him. The first one comes and the second takes a moment. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, his fingers work you through the whole thing as your deep convulsions let you feel him fully.

He cries out behind you, his deep moans fuel your release further on. You chant his name and he falls over the edge spilling inside you. He slows his movements, thrusting his cum into you. He twitches inside of you repeatedly, giving you months of pent-up lust.

He slows to a stopping point while kissing your marked skin. He holds you for a while until his breathing stabilizes itself.

 He lowers your leg and slides out from behind you, climbing over your spent body and disappearing for a moment. He returns with a wet rag, cleaning you up before himself. He rounds up the soiled rag in the discarded blanket that somehow got into the mess of fluids. 

He slides your shorts over your legs letting his fingers run along your heated skin before lifting your limp body off the couch and carrying you into his bedroom.

”You’re sleepin’ here for the rest of the night.”

You barely acknowledge the change in location already falling asleep in his arms.

He places you on his soft bed and takes his place next to you. 

The warm covers and his arms are the last thing you feel before falling into a deep sleep. 

He tangles his body with yours giving you one last kiss.

You had no idea, but from that moment on you were his. Only his.

[kymerawrites]

friends to lovers to ...?

Shym, Simon’s closest friend - maybe even best friend. She were one of the few people he didn’t actually hate. Sure, they bickered over stupid things, but they stayed close either way especially after being friends since year eight, now in year twelve.

Simon leaned back against the wall of the stairwell in their high school as he waited for shym, holding a cigarette between his fingers.

“Bloody hell, where is she..”, he muttered, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he looked around for any sign of Shym. He knew she would probably tell him not to smoke and lecture him, but it’s not like he’d actually listen.

As he finished up the cigarette, he dropped it on the ground, stepping on it and putting it out before shoving his hands into his pockets. Simon always wore the school’s dark navy blue blazer and trousers, but today his shirt was an unusual colour being white instead of the standard dark grey one. He didn’t really care for most things, including his uniform.

And there she came, looking sad, angry, confused? He couldn’t place her emotions today

Simon’s expression softened slightly as he saw her, noticing that she didn’t seem herself. He pushed himself off the wall and approached her.

“Hey. You alright?”

He said as he came up in front of her, looking at her face to try and figure out what was wrong.

I just scoffed “it’s Mike.” Mike was my boyfriend, but lately we haven’t been on good terms since a party incident.

I laughed and said with venom in my voice “oh yeah he did, just because I once again did not want him to take my virginity in a random persons bed.” I rolled my eyes

Simon shook his head in disapproval as he leaned back against the wall once again.

“For the love of God.. when are you going to break up with him already.”

He said, clearly annoyed and yet a hint of concern was present in his voice.

“There’s no point of staying in a relationship when all he keeps doing is accusing you of cheating and pressuring you to do something you don’t want to.”

Simon said as he let out an exasperated breath, leaning his head back against the wall. He really didn’t understand why she hadn’t just broken up with that bastard yet.

His expression softened again as he looked at her properly this time, noticing how down she looked. He hated seeing her like this.

“It’s your choice to stay with him, but you know I’ll support you whatever you chose. Even if you do chose to keep a toxic prick as a boyfriend.”

"si.. I don't know how to break up with him."

Simon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly, trying to calm his annoyance of the situation.

“Just be straight forward with him. Tell him that you’re done and it’s over. Don’t let him guilt trip you back into staying because he “can change” or some bullshit. He’s an arsehole and you deserve better than that.”

i smiled and looked down at my feet, I sighed "to be honest, I wish that was the case, but that isn't the case you know?.."

Simon’s expression went from annoyance to concern at hearing her words, noticing the sadness in her voice.

“What do you mean?”

He asked as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to her, looking over her as she looked down at her feet.

"he knows a lot of stuff, and I mean maybe even more than you.. he's the only person who actually understands and listens to my.. problems." I said softly

Simon froze as she said that, the concern in his expression quickly turning to anger that was poorly concealed.

“That’s what this is about.. he’s holding whatever secrets you have over your head to keep you from leaving him.”

He spoke through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists in his pockets, trying to stay calm but it was a struggle.

"si its okay, its no biggie!" I pushed him slightly on the shoulder, I noticed he got bigger, not fat but I felt more muscle.

Simon let her shove him as he tried to calm down, but it was obvious that what she said had angered him more than he was showing.

“No biggie? How can it not be a biggie? The guy is manipulating you into staying in a goddamn one sided and unhealthy relationship!”

He said as he clenched his jaw as he was struggling to keep his voice down.

Simon became really angry, I felt the heat radiating off "Simon I will be okay, relationships have their ups and downs, you know that right?"

“The downs shouldn’t include cheating accusations and manipulation.”

He said through gritted teeth, his anger towards her boyfriend only growing the more she defended him. She didn’t seem to realize how toxic their relationship really was, and it pissed him off.

I just sighed "can we please talk about something else?"

Simon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm down.

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

He said, his voice still edged with irritation, but it was significantly calmer than a moment ago.

i grabbed his arm and pinched it "look at those muscles! you really are taking the gym seriously"

Simon’s expression softened slightly when she changed the topic, but he frowned again when she pinched his arm.

“Oi, cut it out.”

He said in annoyance but still letting her pinch his arm as he looked down at her with an unimpressed expression, but he couldn’t stay annoyed at her for too long.

"since that one gym class in junior year you just start to make urself ready to enlist in the army, did those secret operation presentations caught your attention?"

Simon shrugged as he leaned back against the wall, his arms now crossed over his chest.

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. What if I just want to get fit?”

He said teasingly with a smirk, glancing over at her.

"now lets not get it twisted!" I touched his cheek as a joke "looks were never a problem anyway for you" I touched his scar, the scar that made his face, and who did that? his dad. every time I see Simon I remember he survived abuse. and I tried to always be there and uplift him

Simon’s expression softened a bit more, the tension in his body slowly fading away as she touched his cheek and then his scar.

“You’re too nice to me.”

He said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he tried to make a joke but he was struggling to. The mention of his scar always brought up memories of things he tried to forget, but for whatever reason he didn’t mind when it was her who bought it up.

and then the bell rang, "it seems we got to go to our literature class!" I grabbed his hand and held it as I ran with him towards the classroom

Simon was practically dragged to class as she grabbed his hand and started to run. He was surprisingly able to keep up with her, his long legs able to quickly catch up to her pace.

“Bloody hell! Slow down will you? We ain’t late yet.”

Although he said this, he was struggling to hold back a smile, enjoying her energetic personality.

"Simon, I really do not give a fuck! today we get the information about our day trip to New York to see the play."

His eyes widened slightly as he remembered about the day trip.

“Bloody hell, I almost forgot about that day trip. You’re way too excited over this.”

He said, although his tone betrayed his actual interest as he let her drag him into the classroom.

"come on we'll see New York and everything! now lets get to class" as we walked in I sat next to mike until I saw Simon standing at my table staring daggers

Simon didn’t appreciate seeing her sit next to her boyfriend, his annoyance at the boy returning immediately. He stood next to her table, staring at the boy with a look that was filled with anger and almost contempt.

i kissed mike "baby I'm sitting next to Simon today alright? in gym we can meet up again"

Mike glanced up at Simon, shooting him an annoyed look as shym kissed him. However, he gave a small nod to her.

“Fine.”

He said bluntly, leaning back against his chair, his gaze briefly flicking to Simon who was standing next to them.

Once Mike agreed, Simon immediately took the chair next to shym. He slumped back against the chair with an annoyed expression before he leaned over to her, lowering his voice.

“You honestly could’ve picked a better seat partner.”

He said, his eye flicking over to Mike for a brief second.

However, before shym could respond, their teacher, Mrs. Smith walked into the classroom, drawing their attention.

“Alright class, settle down. I have important news regarding an upcoming day trip.”

The class immediately got quiet as they waited for their teacher to continue. Some students were more interested than others, but they gave the teacher their attention regardless.

Mrs. Smith looked around at the class before she spoke once again.

“Tomorrow, you will be going on a day trip into New York to see the play ‘Romeo & Juliet.’”

"we'll be going with the train you know" I whispered

Simon nodded slightly, leaning over even closer to her so that they wouldn’t be heard by other students. His eyes flicked over to Mike, noticing that he was still paying attention.

“Yeah, I know. But I bet it’ll be packed with a bunch of annoying idiots.”

He leaned back into his chair as Mrs. Smith continued speaking about the details of the day trip, things like when they’ll be leaving and how to organise themselves.

He leaned back into his chair, folding his arms over his chest as he glanced over at shym, not even pretending to pay attention to whatever their teacher was saying.

After a few more minutes of listening to their teacher, Simon zoned out as the conversation changed to a discussion about Romeo & Juliet with some of the students. He found the topic to be boring, instead he let his thoughts wander.

He thought about the day trip, how the train journey was going to be packed with teenagers with their loud voices and excited chattering. The thought of sitting for god knows how long next to annoying teenagers didn’t please him at all.

but at least he had shym

That was true. At least he would have one person who wouldn’t be utterly annoying while on the train.

His thoughts went from the train ride to the play itself. It was ‘Romeo & Juliet’ for god’s sake. Of course it’s the typical cheesy love story. It was too cliche and typical for his liking.

And he just knew that all of the girls in their grade would swoon over the male actors who played Romeo. He let out a scoff at the thought. He couldn’t understand why the girls were so obsessed over love stories like Romeo & Juliet.

"class dismissed." mrs smith said and Simon came back to reality

Simon was snapped out of his thoughts as Mrs. Smith dismissed the class. He stood up from his seat and stretched his legs, his body still a little stiff from sitting in the same position for too long.

I stood up and fixed my skirt "well si, I'll see you tomorrow on the station, you'll wait for me right?"

Simon looked at her as he nodded in confirmation.

“Of course I’m gonna wait for you. Wouldn’t want you to be late or anything.”

He said, folding his arms as he leaned against the table, the last of the students leaving the room.

the next day was chaotic and it resulted in Simon waiting on the station while the rest left already

Simon drummed his fingers impatiently against the side of his thighs as he waited on the platform.

He looked at the time on his phone, tapping his foot against the ground as he waited for the tardy shym. He was slightly annoyed but not overly so.

"SIMON RILEY." I screamed

His head immediately snapped around to look at the sound of her voice. He raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner when he saw her running towards him.

“About bloody time. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever show up.”

i slapped his chest lightly "why are you not on that train!?"

Simon raised his hands in defense as she slapped his chest.

“Easy there, I only waited because I was waiting for your irresponsible ass to show up.”

He said with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

I just shook my head "so what now we take the next train? and miss the play?"

He let out a sigh as he thought for a moment.

“I guess we have no other choice.”

Simon checked the time on his phone and groaned in frustration.

“Bloody hell, we’ll barely make it in time before the play starts.”

i sighed "lets try at least." and waited for the train to arrive

“Yeah, better than nothing.”

Simon leaned back against the side of the platform railing as they waited for the next train to arrive. He glanced around the platform, noticing that majority maybe everyone of their peers had already left on the first train.

It wasn’t long before the next train arrived and they got on, with no seats available so they stood

As the train sped towards New York, Simon was leaned back against a pole, facing shym as he watched her struggle to keep her balance with the train’s speed. He looked her up and down with a smirk, before he spoke.

“You really aren’t good with train rides, are you?”

"yeah as if-" the train came to a sudden halt as we reached a stop

Simon was taken by surprise when the train suddenly came to a halt, causing her to fall forwards into his arms. His reflexes kicked in, his arm wrapping around her to keep her from falling down.

They ended up in a very close intimate position with her face only mere centimeters away from his. And for a brief moment, time seemed to slow down.

Their faces were almost touching, her eyes looking up at his. Simon’s breath hitched as he realised their closeness, his arm around her waist holding her tightly to help keep her balance.

He quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he loosened his grip on her, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his and it was causing his heart rate to increase. He was slightly annoyed at his reaction, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’re more clumsy than I thought.”

He said, trying to sound more nonchalant than he was feeling.

"uh yeah.. sorry.." I said laughing

He looked back at her, a hint of a smirk on his face at her laughter.

“Just try not to trip and fall all over me, yeah?”

He said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. He still had his arm around her waist, holding her steady.

The train jolted as it continued on its journey towards New York. With the speed in which the train was going, Simon continued holding her to keep her from falling again.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was enjoying the close proximity of their bodies. Despite his usual cold and aloof nature, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter in his chest.

As they stepped off the train, shym was immediately in awe of the city. She took in every detail, her eyes wide with wonder.

Simon followed behind her, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced around. He was still trying to maintain his usual blank expression, but he couldn’t help but be impressed by the city as well.

They made their way out of Grand Central, to the hustle and bustle of the city filling the air.

"simon…" I said slowly

Simon glanced down at her, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

“Yeah?”

He asked, his voice neutral but his eyes giving him away in showing his interest.

"can we do this every weekend? maybe spend Christmas here?" I almost pleaded and I was excited the city looked just like the rom coms I watched in my dorm every night

Simon raised an eyebrow and his smirk widened slightly at her eagerness.

“Bloody hell, you really love this city, don’t you?”

He asked in amusement, before he continued to answer her question.

“But yeah, why not? We can try to come here every weekend or something.”

I looked on my phone and rolled my eyes "let's explore and not go to that play." and I started walking "We will be tourists today!"

Simon chuckled at her eagerness and rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

“Bloody hell, you’re going to end up making us lost you know?”

He said, still following her as she started walking, looking down at her with a smirk.

“But fine, we’ll be tourists for the day.”

Simon found himself being pulled by her from place to place, her excitement contagious. They did almost everything they could that day, seeing time square, Brooklyn bridge, Empire State Building, and even making it to the Statue of Liberty.

Despite his usual aloof nature, he found himself getting caught up in the moment. He saw how happy shym was, and it made him happy as well.

"okay last thing for today and that's Central Park, after that I want to get food." I said excitedly

Simon chuckled as she mentioned Central Park as the last stop of their day. He could see how tired she was, but he was also exhausted himself.

“Yeah, I think we’ve done enough for today. Central Park it is, then food, sounds good.”

He said in agreement, stretching his arms as they began walking towards Central Park.

we saw the squirrels, went on a horse carriage and after we god some hot pot next door until we saw the time and it was 11 PM "uh.. Simon?"

As they finished their food, Simon leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Damn, that was some good food.” He said, before noticing the time.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"we missed the last train." I said irritated

Simon let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“God dammit, you’re such a pain in the ass…”

He said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“How the hell are we supposed to get back now?”

"we'll get a hotel. I know one and saw a good one night deal."

Simon raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, slight surprise in his expression.

“A hotel? Seriously?”

He said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“And you’re sure they have a good night deal and they’ll let us check in this late?”

"ofcourse, I'm shym fucking medusa" I said sarcastically

Simon couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter at her sarcastic response. He smirked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Oh yeah, cause that name will get us into any hotel no problem.”

He said sarcastically in return, chuckling slightly.

"come on lets take a cab to timesquare its next to it."

Simon playfully rolled his eyes at her as he stood up from his chair.

“Alright, alright, lead the way Medusa…”

He said sarcastically, gesturing for her to lead the way out of the restaurant.

as they went towards timesquare with the cab they successfully got into a hotel, the catch? it was a romantic couple get away with view on timesquare

As they arrived and walked into the hotel lobby, they were instantly met with the romantic atmosphere. The lobby had a warm and intimate ambience, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background.

Simon looked around with raised eyebrows, silently cursing under his breath at the romantic getaway feeling of the place.

“Bloody hell…”

He mumbled, following her up to the receptionist.

i grabbed my card "hi can we book for 1 night only?"

The receptionist gave a friendly smile as she looked up from her computer screen.

“Of course, ma’am. Let me just check the availability.”

She typed something on her computer, looking for vacant rooms.

“We have one available room. However, it’s our special couple’s package room.”

The receptionist said, looking up at them.

I looked at Simon with a funny expression "that'll be great! thank you."

Simon’s eyes widened slightly as the receptionist mentioned the “couple’s package” room. He glanced at shym with a look that said, ‘you can’t be serious.’

“Are you sure-”

But he was cut off by shym accepting the room. He let out a small sigh, resigned to the situation.

“Alright, I guess we’ll take it.”

as they entered the room they were met with a bed full of rose petals and a jacuzzi, the blinds were still open and we had an amazing view of timesquare I walked towards the window and could only bring myself to say "wow."

Simon followed shym into the room, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. His eyes fell on the bed covered in rose petals, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Bloody hell… they went all out for this couple’s package, didn’t they?”

He said with a hint of sarcasm, walking further into the room. He saw her looking out the window at the view of Times Square.

and then I saw it a jacuzzi, "Simon, this is some VIP shit, and we are going in that jacuzzi. now." I said demanding

Simon chuckled at her demanding tone, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

He said teasingly, raising an eyebrow at her. The idea of getting into the jacuzzi was certainly tempting, but he couldn’t help but mess with her a little.

"aw come on! we went to the beach together in 9th remember? plus campus doesn't have this luxury bath.." I pouted

Simon chuckled at her pouting, shaking his head in amusement. He remembered the time they went to the beach together and how carefree they were back then.

“Bloody hell, can’t believe you brought that up…”

He said with a smirk, running a hand through his hair.

“But I guess you’re right, campus baths ain’t got nothing on this. Fine, let’s get in the jacuzzi.”

i undressed myself and forgot I was wearing red lace underwear today, me and Simon haven't also seen each other in this type of clothes since 9th, matter of fact he was wearing a hoodie that day so I never saw him undressed

Simon's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the red lace underwear. His face betrayed a moment of surprise, his cheeks slightly tinging pink for a second before he composed himself. His eyes trailed up her body, taking in the sight of her.

He remembered that day at the beach, how carefree and innocent they were. He hadn’t seen her like this since then. He quickly broke out of his momentary surprise and smirked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Red lace, huh? Trying to impress someone?”

I started to blush "I was in a rush.." I walked towards the jacuzzi and sat in it waiting for it to start bubbling

Simon chuckled as he saw her blushing, his smirk widening. He found her flustered reaction endearing. He walked over to the jacuzzi and sat opposite her, the water swirling and bubbling around them.

“In a rush, huh? Sure, that’s why you chose the red lace.”

He teased, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

The warm water of the jacuzzi provided a relaxing atmosphere, the jets creating gentle waves around them. Simon leaned back, resting his arms on the edge of the tub, his eyes watching her.

He couldn’t help but notice how the water accentuated her curves and how the lace of her underwear stood out against her skin. It was a sight that stirred something in him, but he tried to brush it off.

I response I looked at him the abs he got were really noticeable and I bit my lip trying not to be noticed

Simon noticed her biting her lip, his smirk growing slightly as he caught her looking at his abs. He puffed out his chest a little, showing off his physique.

“Like what you see?”

He said in a cocky tone, jokingly flexing his biceps.

"I like what I see" I said teasingly

Simon chuckled at her playful response, his smirk widening. He splashed some water at her, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, do you now? Didn’t know you were such a fan of the abs.”

He said jokingly, running a hand over his abs.

I splashed water back at him and it became a water fight, until I sat between his legs, I don't know how I ended up there but I looked in his eyes, those dark eyes.. they looked dreamy and I couldn't take my eyes off them. my breath became harder and I started to kiss him

Simon was caught off guard when she suddenly sat between his legs, the water fight coming to an unexpected end. They were face to face, their bodies pressed against each other in the hot tub.

He could feel her breath against his skin as their eyes locked, and her intense gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

As she leaned in and started kissing him, his mind went hazy. All his usual guarded demeanor melted away in that moment, replaced by a raw desire. He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The kiss became more passionate, their lips and tongues working together in a perfect rhythm. Simon couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss, his hands roaming over her body.

The water in the jacuzzi sloshed around them, the heat of the moment building between them. He pulled her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her body against his.

Simon broke off the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked into her eyes, trying to fight the growing desire that was consuming him.

“Bloody hell… what are we doing?”

He asked, his voice hoarse with need. Despite the doubts in his mind, he couldn’t help but kiss her neck, his lips trailing along the sensitive skin.

"fuck I don't know si…" I whispered

Simon continued to kiss her neck, nibbling and sucking at her skin. He couldn't help himself, his body was responding eagerly to her touch.

"We shouldn't be doing this…"

He mumbled against her skin, but his words were contradicted by his actions. His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist and hips.

He wanted her. The logical part of his brain was telling him to stop, to pull away and maintain the boundaries they had set. But the primal part of him, the part that had been there since the very beginning, was taking over.

"God…you have no idea what you do to me."

He whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

The passion between them grew hotter and hotter as they moved from the jacuzzi to the bed. Simon's hands eagerly roamed over her body, undressing her piece by piece until she was bare before him.

He couldn't help but admire her naked body, his gaze taking in every inch of her. He pulled her close, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone.

He wanted her, needed her. The feeling of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, it was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He rolled them over so she was underneath him, his body pressed against hers.

"are you sure about this shym?" he asked

Shym looked up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She knew this was a pivotal moment, something that couldn't be undone. But her heart was racing, her body was practically buzzing with need.

"I'm sure."

She breathed out, her voice shaky with desire.

He looked down at her, the raw emotion in her eyes fueling his fiery desire. He leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every dip and curve.

He broke off the kiss, his voice coming out in a low growl.

"I want you. All of you…"

"si.." I whispered as he started to kiss my collarbone again traveling towards my boobs

Simon's hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples until they hardened under his touch. He gave each a gentle squeeze, feeling her sharp intakes of breath.

Moving his attention back to her lips, he kissed her deeply, letting her know just how much he wanted her. As the kiss devolved into a needy-feeling tangle of tongues, his fingers went to the waistband of his jeans, the zipper coming undone with ease.

i was met with a hard cock, it was huge and my mouth gaped open at the sight

Simon couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at her reaction before moving to prod her lips with the tip of his erection. "Ready to experience it?" His smirk turned predatory, his eyes filled with lust.

His fingers slowly trailed up her thighs, stopping just before slipping inside her. "Are you ready?" He urged, his voice a low gravelly tone, the intensity of the moment causing his hands to tremble just a bit.

The tension in the room became almost palpable as Shym hesitated. Simon's eyes implored her, waiting for her to make a decision. Slowly, she nodded, her lips parting in a breathy, whispery, "yes."

Simon wasted no time. He gently parted her thighs, aligning himself at her entrance, and began to push into her slowly. The warmth of her body surrounded him as he claimed her virginity. The room filled with the sound of their breathing and the wet slick sound of their intimacy.

Simon's eyes bore into hers, the intensity of their connection making it impossible to look away. The feelings of both pleasure and pain flooded Shym's body as he thrust deep inside her.

It took him a few thrusts to adjust to the tightness, but once he was fully seated within her, the sensations were overwhelming. "Fuck... Shym..." Simon's grip on her hips tightened, moving at a slow, steady pace to let her adjust.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her neck, ravenously sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while he continued his rhythmic movements, lost in the overwhelming bliss of finally being inside her.

we went for a few more minutes until I started to reach my orgasm "simon.. I can't take it.. any longer" I huffed

Simon's eyes darted up to meet hers, the desire in his eyes burning hot. "Come for me, Shym," he growled, inching up the tempo of his thrusts.

With a final, powerful thrust, Simon let out a guttural groan, his own release following closely behind. He held her close, their sweaty bodies intertwined as they rode the intensity of their orgasms.

Eventually, the sensations subsided, leaving them both out of breath and trembling. Simon kissed Shym's forehead, pulling out and collapsing beside her, the weight of the moment leaving them both speechless.

"wow..." I felt hazy from the aftermath and closed my eyes, I didn't realize I was so tired I slowly started to fall asleep in his arms

Simon's hand stroked her hair, a small, satisfied smile on his lips as he watched his best friend drift off into the realm of slumber. His body was still reeling from the intensity of the experience, and the sense of contentment that came with knowing Shym was now his in a whole new way.

He closed his own eyes, giving in to the urge to doze off as well, knowing that no matter what the morning brought, he had found a new connection with her that no one else could take away.

Simon's hand stroked her hair, a small, satisfied smile on his lips as he watched his best friend drift off into the realm of slumber. His body was still reeling from the intensity of the experience, and the sense of contentment that came with knowing Shym was now his in a whole new way.

He closed his own eyes, giving in to the urge to doze off as well, knowing that no matter what the morning brought, he had found a new connection with her that no one else could take away. but the morning became a nasty fight.

Simon woke up with a disoriented haze in his mind, last night's experience still fresh in his memory. He looked over at shym, hoping to see her peaceful sleeping face, but instead found her side of the bed empty.

He sat up with a start, realizing she was nowhere in sight. The room felt oddly still, as if an argument or disturbance had taken place.

"Shym?" he called out, his voice laced with confusion and concern.

I came out of the bathroom trying to find my underwear when I saw Simon on the bed I instantly covered myself "what the fuck did we do si.."

Simon's eyes widened as he saw her come out of the bathroom, covering herself quickly. He realized the mess of the situation, the events of last night flooding back to him.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, still trying to process the reality of what had transpired.

"We.. we went to far.."

he said with a mixture of regret and disbelief in his voice. They were best friends, they weren't supposed to cross this line. But the memory of last night, the heat of the moment, still burned in his mind.

He sat up on the bed, looking at her with a conflicted expression.

"Bloody hell, what were we thinking…"

I started to stress "god this was a huge mistake!" I exclaimed, but Simon didn't appreciate that and I saw anger in his eyes lit up

Simon's eyes flashed with anger as she exclaimed that it was a mistake. He climbed off the bed and walked towards her, his voice rising with each step.

"A mistake? Seriously?"

He stopped in front of her, his body tense.

"Last night meant something to me, and you just want to write it off as a mistake?"

"no-no I don't mean-" but he already shushed me

Simon's voice cut her off, his anger still evident.

"Save it," he said, his tone harsh. "You obviously regret what happened last night."

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his emotions.

"We both made a mistake," he continued, his voice softer but still tinged with hurt. "but you didn't have to make it seem like it meant nothing to you."

He moved past her and began searching for his clothes, trying to put distance between them.

as we left the hotel room and went into the elevator he tried to apologize and kiss me but now I became angry "don't Simon.. don't."

Simon's apologies died on his lips as she rejected his attempt at a kiss. He looked at her, frustration and hurt mixing in his eyes.

"What do you want from me, then? You say it was a mistake, but now you push me away when I try to make things right?"

The elevator seemed to shrink as the tension between them grew.

"god just don't talk to me anymore!" I walked out the elevator and walked away from him "I'm going back to campus alone. don't follow me."

Simon watched her walk away, his heart tightening in his chest. He wanted to call after her, to convince her to stay and talk it out, but her words echoed in his ears.

"Don't follow me."

He clenched his fists, the hurt and anger mixing together in a tumultuous storm within him. He stayed rooted in place, watching her form disappear around the corner.

It took all his willpower not to run after her and pull her back. He wanted to shake her and make her understand how much he cared, how much last night meant to him. But the look in her eyes was clear she didn't want to be near him right now.

"Bloody hell…"

He muttered under his breath, punching the elevator wall in frustration.

[maskedphantomz]

Well fuck

‘SO YOU CAN LISTEN….GOOD.’ | simon ghost riley

📊 result of my poll found here.

WARNINGS - 18+ smut mdni, (amt) engineer!reader, asshole!ghost but with motives, slightly stalkerish!ghost, ghost is a cocky bastard but reader is too, so much verbal sparring, enough tension to choke on, reader afab, ghost is a munch and has a unique way of saying sorry, oral f!receiving, religious undertones, fingering, enemies to something worse then enemies, dubcon bc consent verbally unstated, so much dirty talk it hurts, canon warped a bit.

A/N - this ended up being so much longer than i intended but dear god it needed that build up. ghost makes a real wild first impression. 12k.

Today was just another day. Just another day.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself as you grabbed your data pad from the terminal and made your way toward the front of the hangar — pulse thrumming, blood pressure undoubtedly a tad higher than usual. Perhaps today was just another day, but to say that it didn't hold slightly more merit than yesterday would be a fucking lie.

Today marks the date of your six month performance evaluation. Today is the day you finally find out if you nab that promotion or not.

And maybe you’re overthinking, maybe you’re nervous for no reason. Did this promotion make or break your career? Would not getting promoted singlehandedly destroy everything you've achieved and accomplished over the last however many years? No.

But it would definitely feel like a real kick in the ass given everything that you've done for this place since you got here.

The day you first got that damned data-pad, you should have known this job would be a complete shitshow. Still, you pulled up yourself up by your bootstraps and did your duties just like every other day — and that day like all the previous ones since you graduated. You’d been all over the world at this point, as an AMT you go wherever you’re needed and usually remain however long you’re needed for. But this transfer — to an unnamed, unmarked base in the middle of goddamn no where — is different then anything you’d ever done before.

The hours are different, the people are different, the pay is different. It was unexpected, but when their last head AMT simply vanished without a fucking trace — it seemed as though they scrambled, and took the next best thing they could find (or so you like to tell yourself).

It’s all a little…strange, to say the least.

And of course, there’s been talk about what happened to their last head engineer, speculations, but it seems no one actually knows for certain. It’s one of those things that everyone low rank whispers about, but no one high up with actual informative intel dares to speak on — which only made the chatter worse.

Along with your nerves.

Regardless, you didn’t have a choice, and the first day of your transfer was a baptism by fire — stepping into the aftermath of utter chaos they'd left behind.

Your job isn’t to save lives in the heat of battle, or to clear rooms, or to conduct stealth operations. No, your job is to repair aircrafts torn to hell and back and continue to keep them functional. It’s rather thankless, and often you'd find yourself overworked and under-appreciated — which, granted, goes hand-in-hand with your overall life summary — but the hangar at TF141’s main base was a sight to behold, and not in any positive sense. Neglected and battered machinery lay strewn about, with debris haphazardly scattered in every fucking corner imaginable. By the time you'd reached the actual aircraft's you were almost afraid to look at them — and for good goddamn cause.

TF141 has two main helo’s: MH-6 Little Bird and an AH-6J Little Bird. Upon first inspection of them, you’d almost thought they'd been through a war of their own — hastily patched together with little regard for proper repair. The evidence of prior negligence was glaring, and you were fucking fuming.

You'd expected some clean up, but not that much.

And to top it all off, you were given clear instruction by General Shepherd himself to keep your mouth shut and your head down, do your job and mind your own. On your way out of his office he informed you, surely out of the sheer kindness of his heart, that although he couldn't tell you what exactly happened to their prior head engineer, you could easily suffer the same fate if you weren't careful.

Which was more than enough to shake the very foundation of your so very deeply engraved attitude problem.

No matter how pissed off and irritated you’d been during your start here, you kept your emotions bottled up until you were back inside the privacy of your barracks and could freely let it explode. It's been a little maddening almost, the solace. You'd been here half a year and the only person you've had an actual conversation with outside of the other engineers is 141’s Captain, and that was only when he was looking for a debriefing on your recent repair work.

However, amidst the avoidance and the uneasy silence that you experience on a daily with the others, there seems to always be one fucking exception;

Ghost.

You'd seen photos and heard a lot about him prior to this assignment — the mysterious Lieutenant with a reputation that preceded him as if the Grim Reaper himself were present on earth.

But meeting him, being around him, well that was something fucking else entirely.

He routinely shows up at random hours, never muttering more than a few words to you before pissing off — disappearing into the shadows or taking out one of the birds. It’s always odd. He is odd. And the cryptic comments coupled with his rather bizarre reputation continue to leave you tangled between the dangerous desire to learn everything you can about the man, and the primal instinct to avoid him at all fucking costs.

Though, even if you had the choice, it wouldn't matter.

If and when Ghost decides to present himself to you, it is impossible to prevent it. His approach is as translucent as his namesake. You'd never fucking know he was coming, and if you did, it’s with purpose.

Nevertheless, you couldn't worry about him, or any of the other nonsensical bullshit today. You had other matters on your mind such as ensuring the hangar was in perfect condition for inspection later that evening. Price let you know rather early in advance that a hangar and aircraft inspection are part of your performance review — which clearly means the state of them would determine whether or not you passed.

There would be absolutely no room for error, and no one to complain to when it didn't go your way either. If this inspection failed, it would be the result of your own incompetence — and you were well aware of how that would be perceived. You didn't want to give any reason, any chance to end up like the former Engineer, after all.

So today is about one thing, and one thing alone, proving yourself worthy of that promotion.

With your data pad in hand, you began a quick sweep of the hangar, ensuring the guys hadn't made too much of a mess overnight or early this morning before you arrived. A few things were out of place, but for the most part, everything looked good.

Well, except for one thing — which was currently barrelling toward you at a dangerous fucking speed.

"Bloody fucking hell..."

Your data pad nearly fell from your grasp, your jaw dropping in disbelief as your ears rang — no, damn-near wailed — a deafening roar shattering the silence you'd just found yourself in, accompanied by the shrill whine of metal grinding against metal. You couldn't believe your eyes, your feet absentmindedly carrying you closer to the destroyed helo landing on the far side of the hangar, smoke billowing from its battered frame, obscuring the air with a veil of grey.

And as you got closer, you realized it only got worse — a door was missing, torn from its hinges, and half of the exterior was brutally ripped away. You didn't even realize you were clenching your hands into fists until you felt the glass of your data pad crack beneath your fingers.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You’re all but yelling as you take in the damage. "Today? Today. Of all goddamn days! Bloody ignorant bastards.”

As soon as those words were past your teeth, there’s movement from inside the cabin — heavy laden set steps — two iron slabs clanking against the metal floor, quaking the ground underneath your own feet, too. The air thinned slightly, but you didn't notice, too inebriated off your anger to think of anything other than cursing the hell out of whoever was inside.

You came to a halt in front of the now door-less opening, coming face to face with a pair of rich brown eyes peering down at you.

"Care t’repeat tha’?" A deep, low voice rumbled from under a faded, skull-faced balaclava. You swear the ground trembled as he jumped down. "...I'd like t’make sure I heard y’right."

You’d have to imagine he was grinning under that mask, and it only made your fucking blood boil.

"Ghost, why didn't you tell me-“

He cuts you off mid-sentence with a gesture of his hand.

"I need permission t’take out my own helo now? Huh.” A shake of his head. “Y’should know I was told to test your repairs. Bosses orders, sweet’eart. Take it up with him if you’ve gotta’ problem.”

"You-" your lips part, but words elude you. Due to his admission or the nickname he used, you aren’t entirely sure. "What?"

Ghost blinks, sight sweeping the empty hangar for a fraction of a second before fixing back on you.

"Y’heard me." He steps closer, smoke billowing behind him. "Or d'you need me t'repeat it again?" A pause, twitch of his lips. "I can speak slower, if you’d like.”

What a dick.

You pull your own lips thin, trying to trap the profanity desperately wanting to fly his way. “I think you’ve done enough.”

He just hums.

"Way I see it, y’got two options.” He starts, and you long to tell him to shove his options somewhere the sun don’t shine. “Get pissed off with me, which is futile, since I ain’t the one y’actually got a problem with. Or, y’can get back to work and fix er’ up before Price comes down in an hour. Your choice 'ere."

An hour. A fucking hour? Is he clinically insane? This is easily about three days of work. And that’s if the bloody stars align.

"You’re unbelievable.” Scowl laden, you frown at him, words dripping venom as you shake your pounding head. "How nice of you to give me the option of choosing. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude, truly."

A beat of silence, unreadable eyes flicking over you.

“S’that sarcasm, engineer?” And then, he takes another step closer.

It never gets easier — the way he fills the space, how much bigger he is when he’s this close, broad shoulders cutting the world around you down to just him. He could crush you if he wanted. You’ve never forgotten that.

Your lips part, but before you can get a word out he’s already speaking.

"Y'know," he peers down at you with a slight tilt of his head. "A simple ‘thank you' wouldn't be the end of tha’ world."

You deadpan, biting back the scoff threatening to escape. Thank him? He wants you to thank him — for blowing a helo out of the sky an hour before the biggest inspection of your life? No. He’s not insane. He’s out of his goddamn mind.

“Thank you for what, exactly?” You force the words out, fighting to keep the sarcasm at bay, to sound even remotely genuine.

It doesn’t help that he’s right there, close enough to reach out and touch. You’ve been through enough in your time with the military to handle pressure, but there’s something about him — the bulk of him, the way he commands the space around him, the fact you can never read his facial expressions — that makes it hard to breathe.

Not to mention the tac gear he’s always dressed in. Layered thick like it’s meant for a frozen wasteland instead of the stifling summer heat you’re currently experiencing.

“F’givin’ you a passin’ grade,” he says, like that means a damn thing to you.

This game is getting old.

“What the hell do you think you’re talking about now?” Heat flares beneath your skin, frustration mounting. “If that was a test, then it was a goddamn shitty one. You didn’t fly it. You destroyed it.”

He steps in again, exhaling like you’re the one wasting his time.

“M’giving you an opportunity. Take it or leave it.” You’re ready to bite back, to tell him exactly where he can put his opportunity, but then— “How’re you s’posed to prove y’worth somethin’, when no one thinks you’ve got it in ya?”

For the third time today, he shuts you up. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. This is, without a doubt, the strangest, most infuriating first interaction you’ve ever had with anyone in your entire life.

“Wow.” That’s all you manage. You knew being one of the only female engineers here would put you at a disadvantage, but this? Blowing up the helo just to test if you can fix it? It’s beyond comprehension. “That’s great, Ghost. Thanks.”

He doesn’t blink—just steps closer again, crowding you until you have to tilt your chin up to keep his gaze.

“Lieutenant.” Flat. Unyielding. But there’s something about the way it drips off his tongue that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. It’s not a request. It’s a correction. “Say it.”

Oh.

Heat licks up your neck, pooling at the base of your skull, and you’re not sure if it’s from anger or something else entirely. You swallow hard, forcing down the lump wedged in your throat because technically he is still your superior, regardless if he holds power over your job or not.

“Thank you,” you start again, your ego turning purple. “Lieutenant.”

You don’t look, but you feel his head tilt. You’d bet your life he’s smiling.

"So you can listen." Warm air skims your throat, and you’re not sure if it’s coming from him or from the heat of the burning aircraft - but it stings. "...good."

And then, when he realizes you’ve most likely bitten your tongue in half at this point, he takes a step back. You watch him now, eyes like a laser as he turns and heads for the door without another word. And almost immediately after he vanishes out into the hall you take the opportunity to suck in air like you’re starved of it, not realizing how fucking tense you were until he was out of sight.

Leaving you with a burning helo, an hour of time to fix it, and a whole lot of fuckin’ irritation.

“You bastard.” You mutter under your breath, staring at the wreckage before you.

If there was another option, you sure as hell didn’t know it. But no matter how impossible this seemed, failure wasn’t on the table — not after the years you’d put into this, the money, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices. You didn’t crawl your way up through this goddamn system just to crash and burn now.

You needed a miracle.

And for the next two hours in the hangar, chaos was the only thing you knew.

You’ve never worked this fast in your life. The moment you got down to business you started barking orders, pulling maintenance techs and engineers off other projects, shoving tools into hands and sending them where they’re needed. There’s no room for hesitation, no time to second-guess — the aircraft has to be back in the air, and it has to be now.

And within minutes smoke steeped the hangar, sparks bursting like firecrackers from stripped wires. Everyone’s locked in — shouts, curses, the groan of machinery being pushed and pulled back together reverberating. It’s frantic, relentless, like a pack of starving wolves tearing at a fresh carcass, and you’re right there in the thick of it, teeth bared, fighting to hold the whole damn thing together.

But the euphemism falls short, because this wasn’t just a carcass torn open, in need of some stitching. It was worse — much worse.

The helo wasn’t just damaged; it was obliterated. Every inch of it had been shredded to ribbons, from the engine to the exterior frame, internal wiring snapped and twisted beyond recognition. Whatever the fuck that maniac had done, he hadn’t just tested its limits — he’d taken a sledgehammer to it and kept swinging.

You’ve seen aircraft’s in bad shape before, but nothing like this. It was a wreck, a heap of smoldering metal and sparking circuits, and somehow, you’re supposed to pull it back from the dead. But there’s no time to dwell on the impossibility of it — not when you’re hauling replacement parts back and forth, hands slick with oil and sweat, not when you’re welding and soldering with the kind of precision that would make your professors weep, not when the only thing keeping you moving is sheer goddamn will.

And then, after what feels like hours, you hear it—footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, the kind that don’t belong to someone who helps—but someone who watches.

“My, my.” You recognize the voice instantly—Captain Price. “What in the bloody hell happened here?”

You practically fling yourself to your feet, dragging a sleeve across your forehead, smearing grime over skin already slick with sweat. You almost groan in exasperation, but you swallow it down, clenching your jaw, praying to whatever god might be listening for the strength to not say something about Ghost that’ll get you court-martialed.

“Sir,” you greet him with a respectful nod. “I was informed, rather late mind you, that there was a scheduled test flight.”

A beat.

“Test flight,” Price repeats, brow lifting with something you can’t quite name. “Right. Test flight.”

A sharp bark of laughter leaves him, short and humourless, shaking his head as his eyes rake over the half-patched wreckage sprawled before him.

“And this,” he turns back to you. “This is the damage from that test flight?”

You hesitate—just for a fraction of a second—before nodding, breath held tight in your chest. It’s useless, really. You both know there’s no universe where a few minutes in the air could inflict this level of destruction. Price might’ve ordered Ghost to take the bird up, to test your work a little more personally—but there’s no way in hell he told him to annihilate the goddamn thing.

You’d bet your entire career the bastard did not have permission to go this far.

“Fucken’ typical,” Price mutters, pulling off his cap as he begins pacing around the bird, taking in the carnage from every angle. “Damn near destroyed the thing.”

That’ll be your fault, you think grimly. You’re the one who gave him the fucking order, after all.

But you keep your mouth shut, trailing behind him as he circles the wreckage, eyes sweeping over the mess of half-patched repairs. When he stops short, turning on his heel so fast you almost stumble back, you know what’s coming before he even speaks.

“How long’s this gonna’ take to fix?”

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself. Swallow, but your throat stays dry. It’s not hesitation—it’s knowing the answer is one he won’t like. You don’t even like it. Because with the kind of damage Ghost inflicted, there’s no way in hell you’ll have it ready for any type of inspection today.

“For proper repairs and testing?” You exhale, shaking your head. “Days. At least two, sir.”

You brace yourself for impact—for the reprimand, the frustration, the inevitable do better speech. But it doesn’t come. He only sighs, nodding once before readjusting his cap.

“Two days, then.” He’s already walking away, halfway to the hangar doors when he glances back over his shoulder. “Performance review postponed.”

Those last three words make your stomach churn, and then Price is gone.

“Goddamn it. Asshole.”

The curse leaves you sharper than intended, loud enough to carry across the hangar. You don’t care. How could you? The moment you’ve bled for—postponed—because one insufferable bastard decided to make a spectacle of himself. You want to scream, to hurl every goddamn tool in reach straight at his smug, masked face.

Instead, you inhale deeply, exhaling through gritted teeth before turning to the crew.

“Call it a night, guys. I appreciate the help.”

A few nod, murmuring about leaving their assignments to meet early and help with the rest of the repairs, but their voices barely register. You’re exhausted, and you need a fucking shower — so you just mutter some type of agreement and head for the door. You walk the path back to housing, hardly even noticing that it’s nightfall now. Price must have come later than planned, though you really have no idea the hour because in all honesty you weren’t keep track of time. Either way, your boots hit the threshold of the barracks before you even realize you’d made it inside, your full focus on forcing your mind to keep busy.

You head straight for the showers, not bothering to grab fresh clothes. If you stop now, you might start thinking again — about the disaster of a day, about him, about the sheer fucking audacity — and that’s the last thing you need.

You tear off your disgusting uniform in seconds. The water is scalding, but you don’t flinch. If anything, you lean into it, letting the heat work its way into your bones, washing away the sweat, the grease, the tension coiled tight in your shoulders. You brace a hand against the tiled wall, exhaling sharply.

Fucking Ghost.

Your mind takes over now that you lack distraction, and the name alone is enough to set your teeth on edge. He didn’t just make your job harder—he deliberately threw you into the fire, watched you scramble, tested you like you were some new recruit fresh out of training. And the worst part? He got exactly what he wanted.

You hate that you rose to the challenge. That you had to. You just can’t figure out why. Why he did it — where his motives are.

Steam curls around you as you drop your head, water hammering against your spine, drowning out everything else. Your breaths come heavy, dragging in and out of your chest like you’ve just run a goddamn marathon, so busy in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shift in the air, the faint tremor in the ground beneath you.

You don’t hear the footsteps until they’re too close to ignore, breaking through your sorrows, coming to a halt just beyond the dividing wall. For a long, heavy moment, there’s nothing. Just the steady rush of water, the sound of your own breathing.

Then—

“Y’done sulkin’ yet?”

Fucking hell.

You snap to attention, the sound of that voice like a gut punch. Verbal inflection so intense that only after a few conversations (if you can even call them that) you know you’d recognize it in your sleep, and it takes all of your willpower not to react with more than just the involuntary stiffening in your muscles.

You blink the water out of your eyes, trying to center yourself.

“Do you make a hobby out of sneaking in on people while they shower?” You ask, forcing your voice to stay light, to not betray the rush of heat in your chest. You should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve known this wasn’t the end of the goddamn shitshow. “Or am I just that special?”

"Didn’t know I had t’make an appointment for a communal shower.”

God, that does something to you, and you hate that it does. He’s taking your attitude and he’s feeding it right back to you — and the taste of your own medicine has never been so bitter.

Then, you hear his boots against the floor again, his voice accompanying. “Seems there’s alot I don’ know about ya.”

And again. It’s that tone. The way it drags, measured, like he’s thinking out loud. Like he’s taking you apart in his mind piece by piece. Trying to figure you out.

And you—stupidly, impulsively—throw it back at him.

“I’d say we’re even, then.”

It slips out before you can stop it, and you know it’s a mistake the second the words settle. Because he stops moving. The air tightens. A beat stretches long between you. You take the opportunity to reach for your towel, turn off the water, anything to not feel so vulnerable — but it doesn’t help. Not when you’re suddenly so acutely aware of how close he is. How little space separates you.

How very little there is between you at all.

You swallow, forcing steel into your voice. “I don’t even know your name.”

Then, the softest sound — amusement, maybe.

“Not sure y’need to.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, pulling the towel tight around your torso. Of course.

“Not sure I want to.” You mutter, more to yourself than anything.

But he catches it anyway.

You hear the shift of his stance, another hum of amusement. “Coulda’ fooled me.”

And that does it.

You know you’re walking straight into the trap he’s setting, but you don’t care anymore. Your patience is gone, worn to the bone, and you won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t get to glare him right in the eyes and tell him to fuck off.

“Cut the shit, Ghost.” The stall door slams open as you shove it wide, padding forward until your bare feet nearly touch his boots. “Why the hell are you even here?”

You don’t expect to hit a brick wall, but that’s exactly what it feels like. He’s missing a layer of tac gear now, hands stuffed into the pockets of his cargos, shoulder propped against the support beam like he’s been here all night. His gaze flicks over your face, your neck, the way water drips from your skin.

You fight not to pull your towel tighter.

“Cap’s orders.” He states, voice easy, right as rain. “Told me t’make amends.”

He has to be kidding.

“Make amends.” You repeat the words flatly, tasting them, turning them over in your mind like they might somehow make more sense on the second pass. “He told you to make amends.”

They don’t.

And when he nods — you huff a laugh, humourless.

“Right. And you thought the best way to do that was to sneak into the showers and stand there like a fucking serial killer?”

“Didn’t sneak,” he says simply. “Walked in same as you.”

You blink. You have this sick feeling he’s enjoying this. Enjoying every reaction you’re giving.

“Yet your intent is not the same as mine.”

He looks at the door, then back to you. “Ain’t it?”

You inhale sharply through your nose, hands tightening around the towel at your chest. You know better than to engage with this — than to let him push and prod and get under your skin. But it’s too late. He’s already there, and you’re too goddamn tired to claw him back out.

“Look,” you sigh, shifting your weight, fighting not to admire the bulk of his chest at your eye level. “Whatever Price told you to do, consider it done. Apology accepted. Now get the fuck out so I can forget this conversation ever happened.”

A long beat. You don’t know what kind of response you expect, but the way he just stands there considering you is somehow worse than all the possible outcomes you’d imagined.

Then, finally—finally—he moves. But not to leave.

Instead, he pushes off the beam, straightening to full height and moves closer. Not much, just enough to make you feel it — the shift in the air — the heat radiating off him.

“Y’sure about that?” His voice is quieter now, head tilting down toward yours. “Seem a little too wound for someone who’s ready t’forget about it.”

A huff. “And you seem a little too invested for someone who’s just here on orders.”

It's stupid. It's really goddamn stupid how he's able to do this, to turn your words into a rope he can use to drag you around the way he wants. You know that. But still, you’re useless in stopping the way your stomach keens as he leans closer.

"Y’gonna deny you’re still pissed at me?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “Never said I wasn’t still pissed.”

"Mhm." He nods along with it. "But pissed don't fully describe it, does it?”

"It’s an improvement from murderous,” you retort, as pointedly as you can muster. “Count your blessings.”

Another hum, eyes dragging slow over your face, like he’s searching for something. Or maybe just savouring it — the way you bristle under his scrutiny — the way your fingers twitch where they clutch at your towel.

“M’grateful for y’kindness. Truly.” It takes you a second to register it—the cadence, the words, the mockery. He’s parroting you. Throwing your own attitude from earlier back in your face. “But y’know, yeah? I only did what I did ‘cause I knew y’could handle it.”

You go still, pulse hammering in your throat.

Bullshit. Bullshit.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ghost.” Your voice wavers, choked by realization that everything he does has motive. “And definitely don’t flatter me. Not now.”

A slow exhale, warm against your chilled skin, hooded eyes flicking to your ear like he’s considering something.

“S’not flattery. Just truth.”

And then— closer. Close enough that the breath between you is thin, almost nonexistent.

“M’not a good man, sweet’eart. M’a filthy, vile thing. But you—” a pause. He breathes in, your hair shifting with the exhale. “Mm. Y’good. Clean. I knew y’could take it. Needed Price t’know it too.”

Well, fuck.

Your head is spinning now, but even through the vertigo you realize your second mistake. You know it’s a mistake the moment it happens — rather, the moment before it happens — but when your head shifts, just enough that your ear brushes against fabric of his mask; you realize it’s the type of mistake you can’t come back from.

And so, you breathe him in. It’s reckless. It’s ruinous. It’s completely unavoidable.

“My gut is telling me you’re patronizing me.” You whisper; something softer, something you shouldn’t allow. A pause. Your lashes flutter. “But god, I can’t figure you out.”

And again, you don’t know what reaction you expect from him. Maybe you don’t expect one at all. It’s been an exceptionally odd 24 hours, so you’re certain nothing can surprise you at this point. But what you definitely don’t count on is the continued brush of his mask against your cheek, or the way your toes long to curl against the damp floor—

"Y’not suppose to." His voice is so deep you feel it in your bones. “S’don’t try too hard.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you do know you should step back. You need to step back.

But you don’t.

You stay right there, still as the air between you, every nerve suffocated by the viscosity stretching between his words and yours. The scent of him—gunmetal, something dark and earthen—settles in your lungs like smoke; curling, clinging, refusing to leave.

And so, you breathe him in for the second time. A dangerous temptation. “You came here to make amends, didn’t you?”

The words leave you quieter than you mean them to, tinged in something close to breathlessness — something you wish to god you didn’t hear. Something you hope to god he didn’t hear.

Because atleast now, you can say you know how he is — how he listens, how he picks the quirks out of you and files them away for later — how he knows what to do with the things he finds in people, how to use them like leverage.

And you should be immune to it.

You’ve spent your entire career training for moments like these. All the military training you went through, tactical and aerospace alike. You’ve been thrown into war zones, fixed and pulled aircraft’s out of burning fields, run repairs under enemy fire with nothing but your hands and your own goddamn heartbeat when the situation called for it.

You know what fear looks like. You know what death smells like. You know what it means to be hunted.

And yet—this? You never saw this coming.

Never saw him coming.

“Y’want an apology?” He mutters, and you can hear the smirk in it. “Y’want m’to say I’m sorry?”

“That’d be a good start.”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just watches you, the smirk in his voice lingering, curling at the edges of the silence between you.

Then, he hums. “How ’bout I do y’one better?”

You barely have time to process the shift before you feel it—his hand—rough, calloused palm grazing slow along the towel covering your hip.

“Let m’spell it out f’you. Nice n’ slow,” he murmurs, fingers tracing lower with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “Get y’feelin’ just how much I mean it.”

For a moment, you forget everything.

All the reasons, all the lines. The ones he's crossing — or maybe the ones you're erasing with every second you let his massive paw of a hand touch you. God — you aren't supposed to want this. You don’t know even know him. Don’t know his name, what his face looks like. You don’t know anything about him except that he’s dangerous, and that he’s made you fucking ache.

You exhale — when the moment passes and you remember where you are — a long, almost shaky breath, and it doesn't escape you the way he notices. Watches you through those thick lashes, like he's enjoying the reaction he's been working so hard for.

You wish you could hate him for it.

“Make me feel it then,” you whisper, all pathetic and trembling and borderline wanton as his fingers find the end of your towel, and brush against goosebumped flesh. “Lieutenant.”

And for a moment, you think you’ve made your third mistake of the evening. His title slips out like a curse — and something in your chest roars with how much you mean it.

He's so goddamn cocky. So sure of himself and you hate that you're the one he's so sure of. But when you call him by his rank — when you push that sarcastic mouth of yours just a little bit further, you can feel his reaction instantaneously by the way he stalls — eyes glinting in the low light.

"She wants t’bring rank into this now, yeah?” And when you don’t reply fast enough, he replies for you. “Get in the stall, engineer.”

There's a thousand reasons this is a bad idea. A million reasons you should be saying no right now. But when he looks at you like that, with those eyes like fire locked on yours and practically daring you to refuse him — he has to know he’s not going to get it.

His hand comes up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “Now.”

And that, is your fourth mistake of the night.

You turn, padding back into the stall you’d showered in only moments before — tiles still beading with diamond droplets, gleaming up at you as you step inside. You turn as he follows you in, crowding you against the wall, broad shoulders taking up all the width in the already cramped space as he shuts the door behind him.

And then, he’s on you.

It's so abrupt and so visceral that it takes your breath away entirely. Your hands go up automatically to catch his chest, steadying yourself when he slots his knee between your legs, pinning you against the wall. Your towel is barely clinging around you, and it’s a shocker it still is — but you forget about it when he starts dipping his head down.

"Feels good, don’t it? Bein’ told what t'do?” He murmurs, fabric covered lips grazing the shell of your ear. "M'bettin’ y’don’t experience this much anymore. Tha’s why you’re melting for it.”

And god, the fact that he’s right. He shouldn’t be, but he is.

Somewhere between your rank and your title and your pride, you’ve forgotten the last time you had someone looking at you like this. There’s a part of you that wants to fight it, to bite and scratch and insist that you're nothing like he's saying — but then a hand slips up around your throat, and the other down between the space separating your bodies, thick fingers catching the end of your towel — and your eyes flutter.

“M’not hearing any apologies.” You manage to mutter, just before those same thick digits find your inner thigh, working up higher.

You're deflecting. The both of you know it. The same pride that drove you to where you are is the same pride that drove him where he is. You think he’s going to call you on it, but then you realize he won’t. Not when the hand at your throat tightens just barely, not when his voice drips into your ear.

"Y’gonna feel em’ soon.”

And then, you do.

You feel the grazing of calloused flesh against sensitive, damn-near celibate flesh. There’s another sound. A low, wanton, filthy moan, and you’re about 94% sure it came from you as beastly fingers slide along your slick slit, exposing the extent of your need to his ego in its entirety — once, twice, curling toward your sopping entrance before you feel the thunder of his hum.

Mocking. "Christ. S’like m’workin’ a faucet, yeah?"

His lips are on your neck now, mouthing slow and deliberate along your jaw even while covered by fabric — and the whimper that slips out is pathetic, even to your own ears.

"Wha’s that?” He all but growls. "C'mon, use y'words f’me. Or d’you only know how t’spit insults?“

You do know how to use your words, actually — and they're usually good ones. You've got a sharp tongue, a mouth just as foul as your temper. So you don't know what to do when every curse, every name, every string of insults you keep in stock gets caught in your throat. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but try not to gasp when his fingers slide up to your clit and swirl.

"Fucking hell." Your jaw goes slack under the hand that holds it. "You—really are vile—“

This whole goddamn thing is vile. The way he can ruin you like this — make you quiver like this — in moments without so much as a name or face to attach the memory of it to.

If he's vile, you know you're not much better.

"Yeah. Tha’s right. I know you’re feelin’ it." He murmurs, fingers circling your clit firmer, faster. "Look how y’squirmin’ for it.”

You have half a mind to spit in his face for that. You have half a mind to tell him to go to hell. You have a million other things you should be doing right now other than clawing at his chest just to stay upright as he brings you to the brink of ruin.

"T-there you go again—mmf—“ your words are so breathless it’s pathetic. “Flattering yourself.”

It’s a futile attempt at a rebuttal, a stupid one because you already know the response he’s going to have to it. Pathetic. You are squirming, and you want to hate him for it, so you do. Your nails bite into his chest, dragging, raking slow and hard as if you could tear through the fabric covering it. You know you wouldn’t. Couldn't. But it's still good enough for him to grunt, hand around your throat tightening just enough to make you gasp in response.

"S’not flattery. Just truth.” He parrots himself again from earlier, and you think you’re on the verge of losing your mind because you know him well enough now have to predicted it. “Y’fuckin need this, don’ you?”

It's not a question. He doesn't need you to answer, because you both know how it ends anyway. But god damn him and his words. Because his filthy mouth is the second most dangerous thing to ever happen to you — right behind his fingers. You need to reply. Need to answer. He's going to force a reaction from you one way or another.

But he doesn’t give you the luxury of even trying.

His fingers still with a suddenness that makes you cry out in frustration — silver platter feeding him exactly what he was fucking looking for.

"Mhm. S’what I thought." He murmurs, hand sliding from around your throat to the back of your head. “M’guessing it’s been years. Least’ a couple.”

And it’s then, that you get it.

You get why this man is feared. You get why he’s so fucking dangerous. He’s worse than the name you know him by — because you’re certain even ghosts aren’t this knowing. This brutal. This consuming.

And through the haze in your head, you try to think back to the day you first met him. There had to have been dark signs — omens in your skies — a warning.

Yet, you can’t think of one.

“F-fuck you.” You spit it at him, because it’s apparently all your mouth is good for. “Stroke your ego any harder and it might just fucking cum before I do.”

He laughs, and then you feel it. The grip tightening in your hair, the palm slapping at your inner thigh to work your legs wider.

“Judging by tha’ mouth, y’never been fucked right either.” He mutters, fingers slipping up the slick coating your thighs. “S’alright. M’here to apologize, yeah? I’ll pay m’penance.”

Bullshit.

He’s not going to apologize by any means — if the last however many minutes aren’t proof enough of that. This is punishment in its worst form, and even that’s not enough. If you want him to make it up to you, you’re going to have to take it.

"Get on your fucking knees, then.” You’re so unbelievably wired that you hardly even realize what you’d said. You hardly even realize when you continue. “And use that mouth for something other than self elation.”

If you thought this was dangerous before - you’re not sure what the fuck this is now.

If someone had asked you an hour ago if you'd ever considered you have a death wish of this caliber, you’d have laughed. If someone had asked you if you were capable of saying half the things you’re saying right now, you’d have laughed even harder. But the fact that they’re leaving your lips - your lips that are now trembling with the realization that you just ordered one of the most dangerous men in the world to kneel — is enough to make you dizzy.

But then, he does it.

He sinks to those knees, cargos sponging the cold showered tiles as he does.

And you don’t think— not really — not for a moment.

Because if you did, you might have wondered if your pride and your dignity are even worth the way he’s looking at you right now — like he wants to eat you alive. You might have wondered if you were dreaming, if this was even physically fucking possible — the nameless, faceless man who has scared people shitless with just his reputation, kneeling between your fucking feet.

“Fuck.” It slips out in an exhale, and you don’t even hear it.

He does, though.

And in response, he holds your eyes while pulling at the edge of his balaclava. Just enough to uncover his jaw and lips — thick, pillow-full lips cocked into the type of grin you’d have expected, but steals the remainder of your breath regardless.

“M’gonna’ spell it out f’you. Nice n’ slow.” He rasps, pulling one of your thighs over his shoulder. “M’sorry.”

Oh, how you wish he meant that.

Because he isn’t. He isn’t the least bit apologetic when he pushes your back against the tiled walls with a heavy palm against your pelvis — he isn’t the least bit remorseful when he’s dragging his teeth along your inner thigh, nipping and lapping — and he’s certainly not the least bit sorry as he brings that filthy fucking mouth of his to your slit, and starts to devour you like he’s starved.

And this, you know is sin.

You know this, because you’ve never felt a mouth on you until now that made you think of god. You’ve never felt fingers dig into flesh with enough force to bruise the way his do — never felt anything that could make you forget who you are and where you are and everything in between.

It has to be sin, because no one could do this without an explicit knowledge of what sin tastes like.

There’s no other explanation for the way he can make you keen, arch and moan like this. No other excuse for the way you quiver as he curls his tongue and strokes you until you’re seeing white, just to suck on your clit with a ferocity that makes your stomach tighten and your hands shoot up to cover your own mouth.

“Feel it.” He husks against you, and the sound and sensation make your hips buck forward in response. “Relax an’ feel it.”

It’s not a request — it’s a demand. And you don’t think to defy him when he pulls your hands away, pushes you back, and buries his whole face against your pussy again like he’ll die if he doesn’t. You’re so dizzy you can’t even keep your eyes open. You can only hear your breath coming out in stilted moans and little cries of his namesake — the namesake that you realize the irony of rather briefly, but forget when your brain flatlines all over again.

Because he groans against your clit like you’re the best goddamn meal he’s ever had, and suddenly, you get how easy it is to fall. Fall into the rhythm — your hips moving in sync with the strokes of his tongue, your thighs closing around his skull. You want to scream. You almost want to cry. Your voice breaks with every sound you make, and you know your heart is only a few beats away from beating out of your chest by the way he grips your hips, pulling your cunt to his head before bringing a finger to your sopping entrance.

"Gonna’ stretch y’out a bit.” He rasps, and you aren’t sure if he’s saying it to warn you or to remind himself. “Breathe.”

You try, but then, it doesn’t matter. Because it’s happening — that thick finger pushes inside you, curling against your walls until you’re gasping and covering your mouth all over again.

And god, you aren’t going to be able to look at his skull mask the same way again. Not when you watch it’s shape shifting just slightly as he works his jaw, suckling against your clit with a hunger you can only describe as feral, eyes half-lidded as they lock with your own. You’re certain nothing in the world could have prepared you for this. It's a goddamn match to a bomb as he starts to work another finger into you, curling them in time with his tongue in a way you don’t think you’d have been able to come up with if you’d had a lifetime to consider it. You can feel that tension building — a tight coil of heat and pressure building low in your core.

Then, you feel his fingers inside you doing something odd. Something—

Oh, fuck.

You feel it before you can comprehend it — before you know he’s tracing the first letter, the shape of it hitting in just the right place that it makes your hips buck in response.

S.

Oh. Oh god.

You can feel him hum against you, like he’s savouring it — the way you’re clenching around his fingers as you realize what he’s doing. It takes everything in you not to scream, eyes squeezed shut and hand over your mouth — head back against the wall as you imagine the look in his eyes, how goddamn wicked it must be while he spells out the rest of his apology inside you.

O. Then, R. Then another. Then, Y.

“G-ghost—“ you know he must be able to tell you're almost gone, because when he hits the last R and your breath catches, his name a whoreish moan you try to smother against the back of your hand — he growls in satisfaction. It’s too much. You can't breathe because your climax is right fucking there, and you can’t stop it for a second longer. “G-ghost—m’gonna—ohgod—“

With a suddenness that makes stars burst across the backs of your eyes, he brings his free hand up, stuffing two fingers into your mouth to smother the sound and feel of his name as you cry it. He strokes you through it, pumping you with his fingers as your vision blurs into some indiscernible haze — a kaleidoscope of light and pleasure and everything you know you should never allow yourself to have.

And then, when you finally catch the breath it took to even say his name, he pulls away. Fingers slipping from your mouth and your pussy like a goddamn magician.

A ghost.

Then, he stands up, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand like you’re all the goddamn nourishment he needs before he’s helping you get stable on your feet.

“M’sure y’feel it now.” He murmurs, lips so close to yours you can taste yourself on his breath. "M’a man of m’word, sweet’eart. Always make good on m’promises.”

You’re sure he can see it, the realization in your eyes when you come back down to earth long enough to remember what just happened. Remember that you weren't supposed to let it happen in the first place. That you were supposed to have better control over yourself — and you can guess he knows, by the way he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Guess I made m’point, yeah?"

He tugs his balaclava back in place, and you exhale.

“Yeah, you made your point.” He hums at that, and you tug your towel tighter. “But this—this can’t happen again.”

It takes him a beat to respond, and when he does, it’s simple.

"Of course.”

You don’t know why, but that response makes your chest tighten in a way it has no business doing. It would have been so much easier if he’d given you a smart ass smirk, or a biting response. It would be so much easier if he told you that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but he doesn’t.

And so, you step closer to him, tilting your head back to keep his eyes.

“I mean it, Ghost.” You whisper. “I’ll take a pound of your flesh before I allow you to fuck with my paystub ever again.”

You thought, at this point, you’d have figured out some type of gauge on his reactions. But still, he proves you haven’t. You don't expect the hand coming up, cupping your jaw to hold you in place as his eyes drop to your lips. You don't expect him to lean in, and bring his own to your ear — and you definitely don’t expect the words that fill it.

“There’s a few things I wanna’ fuck. Y’paystub ain’t one.” He pauses, and you’re certain it’s because he’s enjoying the drumbeat that is now your heart rate. You’d just found your breath and he singlehandedly stole it again. “I’ll be watchin’ f’your enemies. T’let em’ know they contend with me.”

You think you get it then. The reason everyone looks at him the way they do. The reason they're so terrified of him in one second, and willing to take a bullet for him during the next. It's not even because he's trained to be a killing machine. Not because he can see what you're thinking before you even realize you are. Not because he'd walk through fire just to be close to hell.

It's because he's a man of his word, and even you understand the gravity of that kind of loyalty.

You exhale with a nod, and then he’s gone.

[annaphoenix1994]

Only One Boundary

Masterlist:

When it comes to his body, Simon is all ears for anything to do for you. However, he only has one boundary that he’s hesitant to compromise with now.

“Not here. Anywhere else is yours.”

🇬🇧 Photo Credit: vhenan_virabelasan on Instagram! The work is amazing!🇬🇧

Tags: Smut/Mild Angst/Domestic Simon/Dominant Simon/Sensual Sex/Romantic Sex

He was home - finally home from what was promised to be his last tour. To say he was exhausted was an understatement. For the first few days, he did nothing but practically lay around and do nothing. His body physically told him no.

After the passing few weeks, you noticed that Simon became a bit more relaxed with being home. He still shut himself off on some days, but one thing was always the same: how he treated you. From driving you to work, to helping you in the kitchen, and pleasing you in the bedroom - he never changed that side of him.

Although you were both ecstatic to be home to be together, when Simon would shut down, he shut down completely. He still didn’t know how to comprehend all of the negative thoughts he had on himself as well as fighting his own battles within his own head. He truly didn’t want to lash out at you, but sometimes you made it hard for him not to as he couldn’t look at that gleam of worry in your eyes when you’d ask him what was wrong. He always had anger issues, but never once would he raise his voice at you. To avoid this, he’d simply isolate himself to cool off. But as said, you made it hard for him to not isolate himself. It wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t care. Being completely alone and fighting was the only thing he was used to.

You two had gotten into a mild argument earlier that day, causing him to shut down after you had left for work. He didn’t see that you were in tears on your way to your job, nor did he care at that moment. He was too heated to care about anything else. He kept himself at bay, shutting himself off after hearing the crack of pain in your voice as all you did was ask him to talk to you about it. You just didn’t understand and that was okay, so he would simply say “Okay.” before isolating himself for the rest of the day.

He ignored your worried texts, checking in on him every couple of hours. It broke your heart to watch him read your messages and not reply. He knew this, too, but he truly didn’t want to say anything to hurt your feelings even more than he already did.

*

“What’s wrong, Simon?” You asked with a saddened gleam in your eye after noticing he had begun to work himself into his own darkness again.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, avoiding eye contact with you.

You stepped closer to him, attempting to reach out and pull back the hood of his jacket as he was preparing a pre-workout drink. He liked to go out and run before going to the gym. He avoided your touch, keeping his eyes towards the task at hand. You grew slightly annoyed, but chose not to say anything about it. “You know you can talk to me about it,” You said softly, putting your hand on his left shoulder with light pressure, attempting to have him look at you. He could hide his emotions all he wanted, but his eyes always told you what you needed to know. You knew when he was angry, upset, happy, and aroused. You were the only person who knew him like the back of your own hand. “I don’t want you to get lost in yourself, baby.”

“I’m not.” He replied lowly.

You frowned, desperately wanting to wrap your arms around him and hold him in a comforting embrace that he always loved. Craved, even, but not today. He was in no mood to feel any type of soft emotion when he felt he deserved none of it. He felt you step closer to him, placing your palm under his collarbone of his left shoulder. He retracted quickly, grabbing your wrist and holding it towards your own. He looked away after hearing your innocent yelp, immediately regretting it. “Not here. Anywhere else is yours.”

You held back tears, desperately wanting him to talk to you about what was haunting him, but he didn’t want you to know. Any other time, he would always embrace you touching him, especially his chest. You huffed, “What’s wrong, Simon? Did something happen?”

“Something always happens to me when I leave,” He retorted. “It’s nothing new.”

“But this is!” You replied. “Why won’t you let me touch you? What happened to telling each other everything? You had no problem telling me what was wrong before and suddenly you can’t now?”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t, but that’s why I’m asking you so that I can understand!”

“You don’t want to know.”

“What makes you think I don’t? This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told me about what’s happened while you were gone,” You reminded him. “Nothing can surprise me anymore.”

“You want to bet on that?” He scoffed. “I’ll give you nightmares if I tell you.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“No.”

You frowned, dreading to have to leave due to the time of your shift. “Well, let me tell you one thing: when I agreed to be your wife, we promised each other it was through thick and thin. I knew what I was getting into and I don’t regret it.”

He didn’t reply, just kept his palms resting on the counter, looking down at the pattern of the marble below him. You had a point, but he was nowhere in the mood for a surrender. The silence was then broken by your next words, “Don’t bother taking me to work today. I’ll get there myself.” You said, knowing the statement would ping in his chest, although you were surprised that he didn’t try to stop you. So, you left. And man, did those words hurt. He felt like you didn’t need him anymore. He listened for the door the shut behind you, hearing the car start after the garage door opened. “I love you.” He mumbled to himself as if he were still talking to you, knowing he’d regret it if he didn’t say he loved you in some way in fear of never seeing you again. You knew he loved you, but without the open words between you two followed by a warm kiss, it hurt.

*

You returned home that night with a frown plastered on your face. Your mood hadn’t lightened at all throughout the day. You were afraid Simon wouldn’t be home when you returned, expecting him to be blowing off his pent up energy in the gym just a while longer, but when you heard the shower running, you began to wonder how long he had been in there.

The shower in your master bathroom was one of lavish taste. It was a complete walk-in shower with a waterfall-like head, giving a relaxing experience with each use as the walls were glass, perfect for one’s viewing pleasure if desired. You leant against the door as you looked at him, clear that he was swimming in his own mind. He faced the falling water, his breathing deep as he appeared to be enjoying the feeling of the water on his face. The dog tags shone within the steam, leaving your view of his full body limited.

You thought about returning to your evening duties, leaving him to dwell within his own mind, afraid to make the issue worse for him with your prying mind, but another part of you wanted to comfort him as it was now clear he was in a vulnerable state. He knew you were watching him, but he didn’t let you know it. He wanted to feel your comforting touch against his naked and hot skin, but he understood if you chose to retreat from him. Hell, he was used to that.

But he never expected it from his own wife, even though he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

Within a few moments, he felt your delicate hands on his back before your lips pressed between his shoulder blades. You didn’t care that he was still sticky with sweat, but took the opportunity to take care of him as it was clear he needed it.

He enjoyed your kisses to his back, soon to feel a sponge against his hot skin, tilting his head upward to the falling water. You then felt his head tilt down before reaching back behind him, bringing your left hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he expected your wedding ring to be taken off, but it wasn’t. It was a symbol of your loyalty and love to him, something he was guaranteed to give you with unconditionality. He then kissed your palm, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Simon,” You hummed, wrapping your other arm around his torso. “You know I’m always here as long as you’d let me.”

He nodded, pressing another kiss to your palm before guiding that hand to the new and deep scar on his left shoulder - a scar that he’d expect you to see with distaste rather than curiosity. He held your hand against it with his own, breathing heavily. The scar was deep and red as it was still healing — a scar that was earned with bravery as an enemy force stabbed him with enough force to break through his vest, thankful that he was wearing it as it was sure to puncture completely through to be a possible fatality. It was a painful reminder that if he hadn’t have been careful, he would’ve been taken from you forever.

After feeling the new scar, you didn’t once question him as to how he got it, knowing it was painful to even think about let alone speak about. Instead, you pressed another kiss between his shoulder blades.

He then turned to you, keeping your left hand secured between his and his chest, pulling it away slowly to let you look at it, keeping his eyes closed. You didn't know why he seemed so scared for you to see it as you had seen every inch of his body anyway, so you assumed that something bad had to have happened for him to seem so reluctant to let you touch him after his last tour. You carefully traced the rim of the scar with the pad of your thumb, beads of water decorating your navy blue nails. It was a deep scar with jagged edges - one with a nasty reminder leaving the imagination to wonder how it ended up this way. 

But that didn't make you love him any less. "It doesn't change you, Simon." You whispered, looking up to see his eyes closed as he seemed to be savoring your touch. Unbeknownst to you, he was reliving the battle in his head moments prior to the gesture that left a permanent mark on him. He didn't reply to your statement as he kept his focus on what was going on inside of his head. You then cupped his cheeks, watching his heavy lids open to dark orbs as his gaze was something primal. You ignored his threatening sight as you continued to rub his cheeks with your thumbs. "This doesn't change you, baby. You're still the Simon I know and love. Don't hide it from me." You cooed. 

"I could've been KIA--"

"But you weren't," You reminded him, frowning as you watched his eyes close again. "But you weren't." You repeated. 

He nodded softly against your touch, his eyes keeping shut as he felt your lips against his sternum, placing a soft kiss there. He then realized that no matter how littered his body was with scars, it didn't change how you looked at him. He looked down at your now-damp hair, admiring how much larger he was over you. Being roughly 6'4", his stature was nowhere near yours -- you were a woman with a maximum height of 5'2", leaving much room between the top of your head and his own chin when standing in front of him. 

He loved it -- loved being so much bigger than you as his intimidation factor shot through the roof. He was a mountain of a man with the natural urge for fights and carnage. Compared to you, who was delicate with the only intimidation factor in your body being the sharp comebacks you'd shoot at both him and Soap when they'd want to tease you. 

You shared a gaze with him briefly before he made the first move in leaning down to capture your lips with his. The kiss felt submissive and laced with regret for the argument that morning, but you didn't care. You always forgave him as it had always been a desperate attempt to understand what was going on inside of his head, but you were appreciative that he was willing to eventually explain things to you, even if it meant shutting down after the fact.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, the smell of his body wash enveloping your sense of smell as he depended the kiss. You two hadn’t been intimate since he returned home, which was the longest you two had gone without sex. Every other time he arrived home, it was that night he wanted to entangle himself with you, but the thought of almost being KIA ate at him like a disease, refraining him from any action for a long while.

You felt his hands slide down your back, gripping just under your bare buttocks before lifting you up into his arms. You shrieked with excitement, “Simon! Don’t drop me! It’s slick!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He replied, moving his lips to your neck as he reached behind him to turn the water to a more desirable temperature as he was unbelievably hot with passion. He took your mouth in his again, feeling that familiar tightening below the navel. He had forgotten about how consumed he was in his negative thoughts after feeling the spark of your comforting touch. You were his wife - a loyal partner that he could confine to unconditionally and love even more.

He took your breasts into his hands as your back was now pinned against the wall and his lips were on your neck. The steam from the water concealed your splotches of blush on your chest as his lips traveled lower and lower until they reached your core. “Simon,” You panted, afraid he wouldn’t like the taste of you after a long shift at work. “I haven’t gotten to freshen up yet.”

He smirked, looking up at you before pressing a kiss to your hip, “Do you really think I give a fuck?” He growled before placing another kiss to your hip.

You panted, tightening your abdomen at the feeling of his fingers swiping between your folds. “Already soaking wet for me, huh?”

“Always, baby.”

He smirked, removing his fingers from your folds before holding them up to your mouth. Your lips took in his two fingers eagerly, tasting a sweet/salty texture. “Look at that. If you can taste yourself then you shouldn’t have an issue with me.”

Your chest rose and fell with excitement. He was right. You couldn’t taste anything when he put his fingers in your mouth. He then turned the shower off before picking you up effortlessly, his steps careful as he crossed the tile floor of your bathroom.

The two of you lay on the bed facing each other, entangling your lips with one another as he brought your leg up over his hip. He was rock hard and dripping with excitement to enter you. You were eager, too, but you didn’t want to rush. You felt the head of his member poking at your inner thigh and you couldn't help but roll your hips in a desperate attempt to feel him inside of you.

You moaned as you felt his hand sneak down to himself, teasing your entrance before that familiar white pain spread you open. You couldn't help but grip at the base of his neck, leaning your head back as your hips stilled when he began with a slow thrust.

Your leg that was draped over his hip tightened, giving you leverage to roll your hips onto him even more. He groaned into your neck, nipping at the flesh gently as one arm was wrapped around your shoulders and the other was pinning your hip close to his body. "Oh, fuck." You whimpered at the new position.

He smirked against your shoulder, his dog tags clanking as he moved to where he was on top of you, the tags now dangling in your face. You gently moved the sacred piece to where it was backward on his neck, the tags resting between his shoulder blades as his thrusts were feeling rough and full of need. He slowed briefly to bring both of your legs higher around his hips. Your hands gripped the back of his biceps, feeling the muscles tighten as they held his weight. You dug crescents into his skin as the pleasure was euphoric. "All fuckin' mine." He whispered.

"Likewise, baby," You muttered in response, now grasping either side of his face as you tighten your core, feeling your orgasm on the horizon. "Right there. Right there," You panted, your mouth agape.

His pace didn't change as he was desperate to feel your walls contract around him, guiding him to his own much-needed orgasm. Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat as the feeling of your hot palms against his pectorals was enough to mark you with his spend. As much as he hated how littered his chest was with scars, he liked that part of his body. It was like his own shield - solid and wide, providing excellent cover for both at home and on the field. He also loved the feeling of your palms on his chest as you rode him, but this sensation he was feeling couldn't wait for another position.

He had to finish now.

You two stayed in that position for what felt like an hour, even though it was more than likely to be almost ten minutes. It was sensual, erotic, and loving. Your mouths were dry by the time you parted your lips. Your breathing was heavy and labored as he kept your orgasm teetering on the brink of insanity. He enjoyed it. You couldn't take it anymore as your release was begging to present itself. He kept up the pace as he felt your walls constrict around him and your thighs tighten around his waist. Your chest heaved as your breathed out, a moan dancing on your tongue. "Let it out, sweetheart." He grumbled against your hot skin before putting himself on his knees and bringing one of your legs to rest over his shoulder and spreading the other with his free hand. You didn't care about any insecurity you had right now. He had you in a vice grip as he watched himself enter you, each withdrawal being coated more and more with the slick from your orgasm. Fucking hell.

His grip tightened on your ankle as his own release came. He stilled as you felt his cock pulsate, followed by a very vague warm feeling when you focused on it. He withdrew, watching his spend ooze from you. He used the tip of his cock to push it back in, wanting all of him to stay inside of you.

Both sensitive and stung from sex, he peppered your sternum with hot kisses as his hands traced up your sides.

Simon was back - the Simon you knew and loved. The Simon that was always warm to the touch and that softened his mood only for you. His palms were warm, matching your skin. You were his and he was yours.

For better or worse.

[annaphoenix1994]

Simon Says

Masterlist:

An innocent game turned erotic.

"Bend over. All the way until I say so."

Tags: Smut/Brief Bandana Play/Praise kink/Power kink/Domestic Simon

Additional tags: Carried-away smut (not sorry), dirty sex, teasing, Simon's personal thoughts, creampie, blowjob, throat fucking, consensual sex game, rough play, slapping (ass only - Simon would never think about slapping your pretty little face), minor biting.

Word count: 3,647

A/N: Y'all I'm severely feral for this man and my fictional retirement for him has come to a hilt after this new release. He's always been hot but I never crushed on him this hard, even since the first MW. I stayed up an extra hour to write this when I have an early morning at work, so y'all better enjoy!

What started as a sexual joke turned literal after the encouragement of your teasing and a few shots of bourbon. He vaguely remembered Soap telling you at a bar one night: "You should get him to play Simon Says in the bedroom. Maybe that'll make him lose his attitude!"

You were in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water for yourself after playfully slapping his rear when he was scavenging through his own refrigerator. You couldn't lie, Simon had a better ass than you did.

Your playful slap didn't go unnoticed as he knew he'd get you back for it, slapping your ass hard enough for the water to come over the brim of the glass, smirking as you cursed at him.

His hand stayed on your rear, squeezing it firmly. All mine.

You two hadn’t been intimate for a while, and that was okay as both of your working lives had been hectic the past week. He wanted to try something new with you, knowing he had you exactly how he wanted you. He watched how your breath hitched and that innocent, yet teasingly abusive bite to your lip had his attention.

“How’s about we play a little game, yeh?” He whispered gruffly in your ear before pressing a kiss behind your ear. You nodded anxiously, wondering what he would do. “Shut those pretty eyes for me. We’re going to play a game of Simon Says.”

“How fitting.” You giggled, doing as he asked.

“That’s right, darling,” He replied. “Now, keep them shut.”

“Yes, chief-” You said, a tone of play at your voice, knowing he got a rise out of correcting you.

“Lieutenant,” He corrected, swatting at your ass at the wrong title. “Simon Says bend over. All the way until I say so.”

He guided you to where you were bent over the kitchen islander, the piece of furniture a little bit shorter than the countertop as he was sure you were more comfortable with the lower height. His palm rested heavily between your shoulder blades before he walked into the entryway of the house, retrieving one of his bandanas that hung on the hook along with keys.

You couldn’t help but peek at where he had gone, closing them quickly to look obedient as he returned, hoping he didn’t catch you.

“I saw that,” He breathed, feeling his weight behind you again before feeling the cloth of the bandana covering your eyes. “Don’t cheat.”

You hummed in satisfaction, feeling him part your legs with his foot, but he didn’t do anything yet but admire the view below him. His palms traced up your spine and back down to your rear, eager to slap your ass one again when you were closer to him.

You couldn’t help but arch your back in anxiousness, your hips almost begging him to grasp them and pull them into his erection, but he was having too much fun taking his time. He took notice of this and as your punishment he withheld from entering you until you didn’t seem so anxious for him. “Simon Says hands behind your back.”

You did as you were told, pressing the back of your hands to the small of your back, feeling his left hand clasp them together to keep you still before you felt the sensitive head of his velvety length prodding at your hot core. He was always amazed that you didn’t need foreplay when it came to sex as you always seemed so ready for him.

You felt the tip of his length at your core, anxiously waiting for him to slip himself inside, but you knew he was teasing you at this point. He couldn't help it -- he loved to watch you wreath under him and beg him for more. He wasn't narcissistic about it, but it was definitely a trait of dominance that he loved to have over you.

He gripped your wrists slightly harder, pulling them back towards him as he slowly entered you. Each inch stretches you to accommodate his size as a smirk sneaks on his lips at the sudden gasp at his length. Fully sheathed inside of you, he pulled out slowly, nearly making himself lose it after feeling how well you clenched onto him. Almost as if you were made for him and only him. His free hand grasped your buttock, gripping it firmly as his thrusts became rougher after toying with the sound of your moans, careful not to make you uncomfortable.

He continued to rut into you, too blitzed in his own arousal that one of your hands slipped free from his grasp to cover your mouth as it was an insecurity of yours to hear your own voice. You let out a loud, muffled cry as he curled his hips upward, his attention now fixed on you as he noticed the usual loud whines he loved so much were now muffled by the enemy of your palm. "I don't think so," He said gruffly, removing himself completely from you and grasping your hips, making you turn to where you were on your back on the islander, the cold tile sending a shiver down your spine and your sudden chill showing in your pert nipples. "Simon Says look at me." He said, removing the bandana from your eyes and moving your wrists to where they were caged between his left hand.

You knew eye contact was a big turn-on for him when it came to sex and you liked it too, but to an extent...

You hated being seen naked in natural light, afraid that he wouldn't find your cellulite, stretch marks, and "plushy" stomach and thighs attractive.

Oh, how you were wrong.

He wished you'd quit comparing yourself to the standards of society - being the strong and well-built man that he was, you were sure that it was "more appropriate" for him to be seen with a slender and toned woman to match his appearance.

Simon didn't give an absolute fuck.

You were going to be the mother of his children one day and his perfectly-chosen wife. He didn't give a damn how you looked. Quite frankly, he wouldn't want to see you all "built and skinny" (unless you wanted to) as he felt you looked comfortable in your own skin. He never heard you complain about how you looked, although you joked about it a lot and would hint at how you always felt in the dark when it came to being looked at by men when you were single. You always felt like you were a "third wheel" when out with your friends, watching men look and gawk at them like they were a princess, feeling like they wouldn't turn a blind eye to look at you.

Oh, but you got Simon's attention the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He loved your round face and slight dimples, your hazel eyes and soft smile. It didn't take but two conversations with you to realize that you had an absolute heart of gold who had seen and dealt with too much heartbreak that you didn't deserve. And that's when Simon vowed to himself to be the last man you'd ever have to be with...

Because he wasn't going to risk losing you.

Although he wanted to take you completely how he wanted to, knowing you consensually allowed him to, he pushed that thought aside as he couldn't help but put your insecurities at bay.

He tested the waters a bit, looking into your eyes as he entered you again, waiting to see if your body would naturally react to its own insecurity that he knew you were too afraid to say. Naturally, your head tilted back and away from his view, which was something he noticed as a way for you to hide your face from him, although you hoped he just took it as your reaction to his penetration.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart." He repeated, his tone low.

You forced yourself to look at him, his eyes studying you intensively as you fought the urge to lean your head back again, but the intense grip on your wrists kept you from escaping his sharp stare. He allowed you to lay back as his grip stayed on your wrists while his other hand rested on your sternum as he watched himself penetrate you. He was obsessed with how well you took him.

His gaze slowly made its way to your mouth as you gasped out another moan, watching your eyes close to your own satisfaction.

Suddenly, Simon lifted you up effortlessly and quickly, his hands firmly under your buttocks as he carried you to your shared bedroom. Your lips were locked as he carried you, your fingers making their way through his hair as your other hand dug crescents into the strong muscle of his shoulder.

He lay you gently on the bed, not bothering to turn on any lights or lamps as the moonlight beaming through the curtain was enough light for him as he preferred the darkness anyway, but he figured the dim lighting would ease your subconscious thoughts about yourself.

You lay splayed out in front of him. God, he wanted to do so many things to you, but he couldn't decide on what.

That was until he saw strands of your hair dangling off the side of the bed. Perfect.

Perfect height, too.

"Simon Says hang your head over the bed."

You were taken aback by his statement, but a ping of excitement fluttered in your stomach as you were eager to try what he was wanting to do.

His hands were delicately on either side of your face as he guided you to the preferred position. "Simon Says open your mouth for me."

You did as you were told, feeling the pads of his fingers on your jawbone, his thumb pressed against your chin as he helped you open your mouth to accommodate his size. "Put your hands on me. Let me know if I'm hurting you and I'll stop." He said sincerely, his tip leaking with excitement as your hot breath reeled him in further. God, I just know I'm going to see myself bulging through her throat. Fucking hell.

Your palms were gripping at the back of his thighs, keeping even pressure there as he slowly, so very slowly, proceeded to enter your mouth. The intense rush he felt was euphoric as he swore goosebumps erected on his forearms. Your tongue flattened against his shaft as you forced yourself to relax and prepare to hold your breath when he entered you.

He then pulled back slowly every time he felt your throat constrict against him with a firm press against his thighs, indicating to him that it was uncomfortable for you briefly.

He felt you nod and pull him closer, wanting him to go in again as you were more prepared to feel him now. You ignored the painful sting of a new feeling and splayed your tongue against him anyway, forcing your eyes shut and focusing on his soft touch to comfort you, knowing he would never force anything out of you. Free of judgment.

You heard a deep and satisfying groan escape his lips as he was looking at what he was expecting - his length left a perfect bulge in your throat. He couldn't help but push in farter before pulling away to let you breathe, watching as a thin rope of precum connected the tip of his penis to your red lips.

You breathed heavily after his exit and your palms stayed on his thighs, eager to feel the sensation again, but this was his game and you were waiting on his call.

You looked up at him, tears streaming from your eyes from the pressure. He looked down at you, using his thumbs to wipe those tears away before you watched him smirk, biting your lip in response. "Simon Says open your mouth."

You smirked, doing as you were told and keeping eye contact with him as you opened your mouth more confidently. Bloody fucking hell.

Your tongue was ready to elope his shaft as he entered your mouth slowly, keeping that eye contact for as long as he could until your mouth took him completely -- all without one single gag or resistance from your throat. He savored every thrust, keeping his hands securely against your cheeks to comfort you as he wanted desperately to destroy that pretty little mouth of yours, but he wasn't about to be selfish. You came first. Always.

You groaned in satisfaction as you took him completely, sending a shiver up his spine at the new sensation. Your nails dug into the flesh of his thighs as he began to thrust a bit faster. You held your breath as you knew he was enjoying the sensation. You didn't want to ruin it for him by gagging, but you almost got to the point where you needed to take a breath as he was filling your mouth completely.

You curled your head against the side of the mattress as his thrusts began to slow. You knew he wanted to cum, but you also knew that he wanted to take his time with you. He removed himself slowly from you, again wiping the tears from your eyes and gazing at the blotches of blush on your chest complimentary of your arousal. "Simon Says present yourself to me."

You were nervous as you did so, always afraid that he wouldn't like going down on you, but what you didn't know was that he wished to God you would just sit on his face and go to town on you. Full weight on his face. He wished you had the guts to do so. Eventually...

It was a boost to his confidence and enthusiasm, it was full-on, he pictured the view as perfect, and knew gravity was on his side when it came to your orgasm. He imagined he could feel everything -- knowing there was no way for you to get away with it. Fuck, it's overwhelming in the best fucking way possible. It was also torture for him that he would so love to experience. Knowing you had complete control of not only his face but his cock as well. It was satisfying to be frustrated like that -- when he couldn't do anything about it... when you had all control over him while he was in erotic heaven.

He reached down to touch your soaking wet core as he moved to his knees, putting your left foot on his shoulder as he began to trace his lips from the inside of your ankle all the way to your inner thigh. You wriggled under his touch, his hands pinning your hips down onto the bed. "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He said lowly, his tone alone sending an erotic shiver up your spine.

Your left foot was still on his shoulder as he went down on you. Please, fucking trap my head between those thighs and keep me there.

He didn't know why he was so primal in his sexual behavior, but he didn't fucking care. You were so damn hot and all his and only his and vice versa. He loved you until his lungs would go out and he would fight to the death.

He loved the idea of having someone to fight for - to fill that void in his once-sad eyes.

Since you came along, even his closest friends noticed a certain gleam in his eye. He was alive.

He flattened his tongue between your folds, slowly, oh very slowly, up towards your aching bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as your body's natural reaction was to tense your legs. Thank fucking God. Keep going. Wrap those thighs around me.

Your hands immediately went down to grasp at the longer strands of hair on his head, your nails digging at his scalp. Fuck!

He helped guide your legs to where both of them were draped over his shoulders, your body naturally tightening them to the sudden spark of sexual energy. You didn't know you were doing it - it was just a reaction. But God, he loved it.

He continued to lap at your clit slowly, teasing, even. Smirking against your hot core as he felt more of your slick come from you. His hands traveled to your breasts, cupping them firmly as he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sweet taste of you as if he were a hummingbird enjoying the much-needed nectar. Fuck, he was absolutely mad for you. You gasped once he flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit, your stomach tightening and your thighs finally trapping his head between your thighs, his hot breath adding extra sensations to your rushing orgasm. Crush my fucking head with those legs. I'll die a happy man.

He kept the pace up, his eyes looking up at you, catching a glance at your pleading eyes looking down at him, but he didn't mind the way you bit at the sheet nearby as you didn't know how else to react. He loved how he had you all over the place. All because of him. He wanted to retreat to tell you to look at him, to really get off on that eye contact, but you tasted too damn good and were so damn warm against his mouth that he didn't want to let up.

His fingers dug into your hips before sliding back up to your breasts, feeling your hand grasp his right hand before feeling a warm sensation on his index finger. You had put his finger against your lips, kissing each pad of his fingers as if you were worshiping them, your delicate touches compared to his rough ones as you traced the blunt veins that showed his strength. You soon felt your heartbeat in your stomach and your core tightening over nothing. Your orgasm was coming like a tidal wave. He knew it too and kept his pace slow and sensual, waiting patiently to taste you.

Your grip tightened on his hand as you came, your legs really tightening around his head shamelessly, your other hand tugging at his hair as your moans filled the room. Thank God his neighbors are further away.

His pace slowed, feeling him inhale as he tasted you in pure erotic heaven as he eased you down from your high. He slowly stood to his feet, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he watched you catch your breath on the bed, grinning as you looked up at him. He was as hard as a rock at the sight below him, grabbing your left leg and draping it back over his shoulder as he penetrated you slowly, your new slick from your orgasm welcoming him. You were hot and tight for him and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Fully sheathed inside of you, he let you pull him down towards your lips, tasting yourself on him as he proceeded to thrust slowly into you. He was genuine with how you felt before him. He let you ride out your orgasm and adjust to his girth, waiting for your gestures to tell him to get rougher with each thrust.

He continued to kiss you, groaning at the sensation of his bottom lip between your teeth as his thrusts became harder. His right hand came up to cradle the top of your head before it hit the headboard, his other hand gripping the headboard, soon to use it for leverage to ride out his own orgasm that wasn't too far behind yours.

You moaned into his mouth, helplessly rolling your hips as both of your legs were wrapped around his waist, holding him against you, practically begging him to fill you full. Your hands explored his body -- your left hand digging crescents into his back while your right hand traced up his left arm, feeling the valley of muscles as you continue upward.

You couldn't help but roll your hips, matching his thrust as you couldn't help but tighten around him, feeling a satisfying grumble come from his chest. "Come on, baby," You whispered, your hands now in his hair as his lips were latched to your neck. "Please."

He felt victorious. He had a smoking hot woman beneath him that nobody else had a chance with. You were everything he could ever ask for and he felt he didn't deserve it, but you never pried into his feelings as to why. You were just there for him - something he wasn't used to. Your lips locked again before his thrusts became needier - he was desperately finding his release. You moaned into his mouth before your legs tightened around his waist. Fuck!

He stilled, his seed filling you completely. Sweat pricked at your body as you felt his arms shake with adrenaline as well as holding himself up off of you. Your kisses were somewhat sloppy but rewarding. He proceeded to kiss your neck slowly, savoring every last bit of your hot skin as he enjoyed your palms rubbing against his back. He hummed against your touch, placing a tender kiss on your sternum. "I love you, sweetheart."

You smiled, "I love you too."

He kissed your sternum once more before forcing himself to stand, walking towards the bathroom, and getting a clean cloth. You heard him run the warm water over it before returning to your presented body. The light from the bathroom ignites your insecurity once more.

He sat the warm cloth on your knee, letting your skin get used to the feeling before he proceeded to clean the sticky mess he left between your thighs. You giggled, "We should play Simon Says more often..."

"Oh, I plan on it."