I draw🦋and reblog stuff I like❣️💜22💜Minors please DO NOT INTERACT I reblog a lot of +18 stuff❣️REQUESTS OPEN🎨📝 INFJ 🖤✨currently studying 3D animation/college student✨💜 https://ko-fi.com/alexandraioannidou4 Instagram:@alexandra_ioannidou_
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SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.
WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.
A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!
WORD COUNT: 10k.
MASTERLIST.
Also on Ao3!
You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.
The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.
Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.
Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.
Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.
And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.
It was like a slap in the face.
One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.
"You-"
"Did you keep it?"
As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.
"It? Wh-"
"Him. Our son."
Our son.
It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.
"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."
"I was gone."
"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."
"You don't understa-"
"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"
Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"
"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."
Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just
"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"
The door slammed shut.
Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.
You'd closed the door on him.
You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.
He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.
It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-
The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.
You were letting him in.
That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.
No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.
The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.
Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.
It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.
Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.
You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.
You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.
A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.
His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.
It didn't feel right.
It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.
You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.
You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.
Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.
"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."
Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.
The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.
When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.
But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.
So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.
You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.
But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.
"Are y-"
"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."
Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.
"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.
You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…
Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.
"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."
He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.
The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.
"...so? Are you going to explain?"
Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.
But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.
He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.
"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"
"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."
His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?
"What do you work in?"
"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."
Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.
Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.
And it was terrifying.
You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.
You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.
"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.
"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."
You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.
"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.
"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.
"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"
You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.
"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."
You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.
"That doesn't explain why you were gone."
Silence.
The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.
"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.
"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."
"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.
"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.
"I'm not raising my vo-"
A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.
You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.
"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."
Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."
His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.
Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.
"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.
"I want to see him."
You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.
"You haven't even told me his name."
Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.
"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.
He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.
"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.
"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.
"You still don't believe me, d'you?"
A beat.
The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.
You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.
"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.
Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.
And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.
And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.
"They're real. I promise."
His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.
"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.
A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.
"...his name's Tommy."
You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.
"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"
"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.
Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.
God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.
His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.
"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."
And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.
And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.
"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.
Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.
"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."
Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.
"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.
"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.
Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.
For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.
Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.
Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.
So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).
"How d'you pay for all this?"
"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"
"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"
You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.
"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."
He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.
He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.
"Let me help you."
You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.
"Help me?"
Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.
But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.
"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."
Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.
Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.
You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.
"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."
He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.
"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"
Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.
"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."
God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.
So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.
And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.
"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.
"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"
"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."
Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.
"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.
Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.
"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.
"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.
"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."
"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.
Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.
"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.
"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"
"It's fine. I've slept worse."
He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.
That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.
Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least /try/ to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.
And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.
And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.
Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.
Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.
But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.
"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.
You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.
This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.
He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.
"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."
Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.
Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.
A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.
A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.
"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"
As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.
"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"
He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.
But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.
Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.
He could… he could really get used to this.
Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.
He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.
"-mon."
"Simon!"
The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.
He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.
Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?
"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"
"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."
"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.
"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."
His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.
"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."
"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."
He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.
Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.
"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."
I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.
"Alright."
You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.
Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.
After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."
He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.
"O-okay."
He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."
You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.
You hoped it was the latter.
"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."
The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.
Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.
"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"
"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.
"Right, I'm s-"
"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."
"Well you can shut him up-"
"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"
"N-no, sir."
"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"
"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."
"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.
"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."
Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.
He'd be back. He promised.
TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
The way back home was long. It took 24h for the extraction to be ready. You had been feeling exhausted. Price and Simon had been checked up by the doctor on base. Soap had been keeping an eye on you and had also forced you to be checked by the doc, who had clearly told you you needed rest, food and water. Simon had kept you close to him at all times and you hadn't complained a single second.
You were glad to be able to fly home with everyone. Absolutely everyone. You had fallen asleep on Simon's shoulder in the plane back. The boys were thrilled, the plane wasn't their usual military plane for once, the comfort was amazing to them after almost two months on the field.
Hopkins had greeted everyone upon arrival. He had eyed you worriedly, and you quickly realized you'd have a lot of paperwork and meetings to attend to in the next few days. He nodded your way, telling you to rest.
Finally heading home felt like a dream. Like a haze. For a second, you were scared it wasn't real. That you'd wake up and he'd be gone. You glanced at him, in the driver's seat, brows furrowed behind the mask as Soap gaz and Konig were chatting in the back.
Once home, you had dropped your gear on the floor in the living room. The boys were jumping around, happy to be home. You sighed, closing your eyes. Arms wrapped around your stomach, a strong body behind you.
"Come on. Let's go draw you a bath." He said.
"Simon.. you're one who almost got killed. You… got tortured-"
"Hey hey.." he hushed, turning you around.
"I've gone through worse. Much worse. This is nothing. I'm worried about you. If you want to help me, please be a good girl and let me take care of you. That's all I want to do right now." He argued.
You smiled a bit, tired eyes never leaving him.
"Fine… but you're taking that bath with me…" you murmured.
He chuckled, before nodding.
"Sergeant. Go rest. We're going to as well. We'll order something to eat a bit later on." He ordered the boys.
Soap nodded, Konig and Gaz too as they all went their separate ways.
You walked up, hand in hand with Simon, Riley's little paws tapping on the floor. He tried to make you walk into your room but you immediately pulled him to his. The bed was still a mess. He noticed. Riley jumped on the bed taking his usual place.
"I see you've both made yourselves at home." He teased.
You froze. For a second you wondered if he was angry.
"I'm.. sorry.. I-"
He frowned. He pulled on his mask, taking it off. God you had missed his face..that man was so handsome. He gazed at you with worry in his eyes.
"Baby, are you alright?" He asked.
You didn't know what to answer. Four days. Four days was all it took to completely shatter your world. You had gone through the full spectrum of emotions in four days.
You opened your mouth unsure of what to say. You bit your lip. No. You shook your head no, feeling the wave of exhaustion, relief and so much more fall on you. You cried. And he held you. The sweet nothings falling to your ears like poems from ancient times. He wiped your tears, dropping kisses to your cheeks and nose, he sat down on the bed, pulling you to his lap, letting you cry out your pain.
You held him, time freezing on the spot. This, was all you wanted. You had begged and hoped all possible strength out of this world that he was alive. You didn't know which god you had to kneel to, or which divine energy answered your prayers but you were eternally grateful. His hands caressed your hair, making sure to not pull on the tangled mess they had quickly became in a short span of time.
He rose after long minutes, holding you as he walked to the bathroom. He sat you down on the counter, wiping away the remaining tears. He kissed you deeply before heading to the bathtub, letting the water run after checking the temperature. You watched him. His muscles, his movements, his hands. You wanted to die with the imprint of his form behind your eyelids. You wanted to tell him. To confess all the love and adoration you had for him.
He walked to you, pulling on your shirt to start undressing you. Every touch on your skin made you want to pull him close and never let go. The little shivers, goosebumps. He lifted you up without a single effort to remove your pants and panties. You gasped when he put you back down, the cold stone surprising you. He chuckled, kissing you again.
He was about to walk away when you wrapped your legs around his waist. His gaze darkened instantly. You reached for the hem of his tactical shirt. He let you remove it, eyes looking into your soul.
"Let me take care of you too…" you whispered.
He nodded slowly. You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. You could see his skin ravished in goosebumps as your fingers, in featherlight touches, brushed over his navel. You removed the pants, he helped you, pulling them down and stepping out of them. He was starting to get hard and you smiled softly.
"You have too much power over me little bunny…" he whispered.
You grabbed his face softly, kissing the corner of his lips.
"Let's get into the tub before it overflows…" you sighed.
He picked you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He stepped into the large tub slowly dropping to sit down. The warm water on your skin felt amazing. He reached for the faucet, turning off the water. Picking up one of the various products from the shelf, you took some Buble bath, but he stopped you.
"Not yet."
You frowned. He grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining with yours to make you let go of the bottle. He brought both of your hands to his lips, lips brushing each of your knuckles in little kisses. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss every inch of you if that's what he wanted. Lips caressed yours, kisses filled with promises and silent confessions. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your hands get lost in his hair.
His hands rubbed your back, up to the nape of your neck, down to your lower back. It felt hot. At this point you didn't know if it was the water or his skin that made you feel so warm.
"Simon…" you whimpered.
"You haunted my thoughts…"
You closed your eyes, basking in his voice.
"Every second. Your eyes… your lips… your voice. My mind was high on you…"
You bucked your hips, rubbing him and yourself together in a slow dance. He pulled you closer, wet hand getting lost at the back of your head, meddling with your hair.
"I didn't fucking care what they did. You were all I could think off. You kept me fighting. Alive. Just so I could come back to you."
You wanted to cry. Your heart felt like it would burst from the emotions.
He was hard. You could feel it against your clit.
"You ready love?" He asked against your lips.
"Yes…please Simon…"
You craved it. It was like a mortal sin but a need. Like breathing.
He lifted your hips as you positioned him at your entrance. You made sure to drop yourself very slowly into him, you had no problem, this man could get you wet so easily. You let every inch of him stretch you, burning the sensation of him filling you up slowly into your brain. He let his head fall back, his grips on your hips tightening.
"Oh fuck baby…" he moaned.
You closed your eyes, the heat wave the sound caused making you clench around him.
When he finally bottomed deep inside you, you stopped. You were already pulsating around him and, even if you wouldn't last long, you wanted him to feel everything you couldn't say to him.
You slowly grinded against him, earning a groan from him. He pulled himself up, letting his forehead touch yours.
Huffed breaths mixing, moans and groans filling the room. You rode him, kisses, tongues and lips, bites.
The world? What world? What universe? Him. It was him. The galaxy, the nebula's, the morning sun and the crashing rain. It was him.
The pace increased, he helped you, pulling you up to make you bounce on him.
"Simon..si-" you moaned.
"Y/N.."
The water splashed, the ground would be full of it, but who cared? Who cared about the time ticking? The water spilling?
He angled you perfectly, watching your face to know where to hit. He could read you like a book he'd never stop rereading. The familiar build of pressure deep in you making you grind with him in harmony. He chased his own high, watching you unfold before him. And it was peeking. The breaking point.
"Si..mon… fuck… please.."
"That's it bunny… I'm right here… keep chasing it…"
You looked into his eyes, he reached for your clit, soft circular motions ready to tip you off the edge.
"You gonna cum baby? You're gonna cum my bunny?" He growled.
"Y..yes.. please… cum with me…" you begged.
He smirked. And it was there right there… almost there…
"Bunny… eyes on me." He ordered.
And you did. You never wanted to look away.
"Good girl…my good girl… go on… cum with me.."
One more thrust. Another one and the tension broke. He grabbed your throat making sure you looked at him as he spilled himself deep in you.
"I love you bunny…so. fucking. much. "
You weren't sure you heard it correctly. You weren't sure. You're mind was dizzy from the heat and your orgasm completely crushing you. You tried to catch your breath, face in his neck. His large hands caressed your back again. He slowly pulled you up, slipping out of you. He kept you on him. He let you rest on him as he reached for the bath salts and threw some in the water. He pulled you away from him make you spin around so you could lay on him, back again his chest.
He slowly let your head back, wetting your hair slowly. He applied a bit of shampoo before starting to massage your scalp slowly.
"Simon…" you tried.
"Yes darling ?"
"You said it…" you whispered.
"... I did."
"I love you Simon."
"I love you Y/N."
Simon's way of coping seemed to be taking care of you. And the way you coped was by being constantly near him.
After the bath, once you were both clean, he had taken you out to his room, dried you up before dressing you in his clothes. He let you dry your hair while he got into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. You had slipped into bed with him while Riley had laid down near the bed. You had let yourself fall asleep in his arms, his own breathing evening.
It was already late noon when you both woke up. The house was quiet. You had gotten up begrudgingly, hand in hand going downstairs. The boys were in the living room, sprawled on the couches, TV on.
"You guys napped too?" Gaz asked.
"Yeah…" you answered.
"We all did… guess we all needed to rest." Soap added with a smile.
"You guys hungry? We should order some food." You proposed.
The boys agreed and jumped on the occasion to make the order. You had, very unwillingly, let go of Simon's hand to head to kitchen to feed Riley. The big boy seemed to be happier. He wasn't fully eating as much as he should, but you cheered and praised at every bite and it seemed to work. Simon had also praised him with a good boy and it made you smile.
You had dined around an hour later, before finally heading to the couch, watching a movie. You had looked around. The boys laying around. Simon hugging you. Riley's head on your lap. You let yourself finally rest. They were here.
During the rest of the week, your team passed by and remained during the day. You were so happy to have everyone with you that the loud noise didn't bother you at all. Melissa and Amy also spent time with you and you just felt so glad to be so surrounded.
You had noticed how Bishop and soap seemed to get closer and closer. Bishop's boy, Tyler, really liked Soap and you could see how it made her smile and melt. Konig and Grim had their own little conversations in German, and you didn't remember the last time you had seen each of them so comfortable with someone.
Price on the other hand… well it was complicated. You had seen little touches, little smiles. But one was too scared and the other wouldn't let himself give in.
You had sighed in contempt in Simon's arms.
The nights were spent in his room. He wanted you near him and you didn't want to sleep without him. To be honest, you had been having nightmares. Horrible ones where he wasn't here. Where he did not come back. You would slightly jolt awake, not screaming or anything. But it was enough. Enough for him to wake up, enough to notice. Each time he'd make sure to cuddle you and reassure you.
Kate had been trying her best to keep away the unavoidable meetings and paperwork, but it caught up with all of you. Once Monday hit, everyone had to at least attend to some urgent matters. Missions reports, meetings. Very annoying things. You had headed to base in his Jeep, Riley in the back, following the boy's cars. Once on base the looks were very much noticeable, but none of you cared. You parted ways as he dropped on kiss on top of your head through the mask.
Riley remained with you as you headed to said meetings, video calls with higher ups. There was a mix of feelings in the ranks, you had gone through reckless behavior, but you had brought back the full squad. You had ordered a blow up on a facility but you also had brought extremely important Intel. Eventually, you had managed to reach a compromise on everything. They'd be more careful with your squads, you'd make sure to remain their safe little bird and keep getting important Intel.
You had been furious of their mistake on the extraction point, and they had fully understood that.
It took several days to get back a bit of freedom, even for the boys but eventually, here you were. The two squads mixed, walking around the mall. Amy in Simon's arms while Melissa talked with Bishop, Soap and Coyote.
You had lunched together before now roaming around, alternating between little shops in little groups. Eventually, Amy had decided to walk hand in hand, in between price and Coyote. For a second you asked yourself if the little girl knew and if she was enjoying her little game.
Tyler had grown on Soap, they were getting inseparable. They'd run around, getting to stores, playing, and it made you smile.
Bishop and Melissa had walked into a clothing store, dragging you with them. They picked up some little summer dresses, dragging you to the dressing room to try them on.
You were on your fourth dress, and a high level of 'this is starting to be annoying' when you heard Simon's voice behind the curtain.
"Yes?"
"Can I step in?" He asked.
"Sure." You smiled.
He walked in, taking a double take on the little dress you were wearing.
"You look beautiful. You should get the dress." He said matter of factly.
You chuckled.
"What's wrong?" You questioned.
"Need you to do something for me."
You frowned. He lifted his t-shirt up, and you gasped.
"Simon! Here?!" You whispered-yelled.
He laughed. It made you smile.
"Not what I had in mind but don't test me too much." He warned teasingly.
He reached for his pocket, getting out a little tube. You frowned in confusion.
"My lipstick?"
"Go on. Put it on."
"Simon… i don't understand…"
"Go on bunny. To please me."
He didn't need to say anything else. You rolled your eyes for the theatric move, but picked up the lipstick before turning to the mirror and applying it. You smeared the lipstick, pressing your lips together. You finally turned to him.
"Alright. What now?" You asked.
He had crossed his arms on his chest, muscles flexing.
"Drop a kiss." He ordered.
"Sorry… what?" You huffed a laugh.
"Anywhere. Drop a kiss. Leave a pretty mark." He ordered again.
You frowned, shaking your head a bit.
"What's gotten into you?"
"Bunny." He warned.
You rolled your eyes again. He grabbed your ching making you look at him.
"Roll you eyes at me again. Go on bunny. Try it. I'll ruin you against that mirror and I'll make sure the whole fucking store hears you."
You gasped, your cheeks now burning.
"Now come here. And paint me."
You closed your eyes, smirking. You tried to gain back composure.
"Alright. Fine."
You stepped closer to him, looking at his body. Just the thought of it made you squeeze your thighs together.
"A kiss baby. One. Behave."
You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Bunny. Behave. I already got one punishment for you. You don't want to add another one."
You faked a pout before turning to your task. A kiss. Where? Did it matter? You wanted to kiss every part of him. You finally settled for a spot. You dropped your head to his ribs, on the left side almost hidden by his arm. You dropped a kiss, making sure to leave a pretty print. You looked at your handy work, lifting your hand to slightly smudge the lower corner of the left side of the print, leaving a little smudge that made it almost like art.
"Why did you do that?" He asked.
"If you want the perfect thing you'll have to come back again… and again." You teased.
He chuckled. He took back his t-shirt putting it back on him.
"Simon… what are you doing?" You were truly confused now.
He lifted his mask, kissing you deeply, making you melt in his arms.
"Thank you, I got what I need."
He smirked before pulling down his mask, grabbing the lipstick and stepping out. You remained there confused for a second before shaking your head and turning back to the mirror. You brushed the little flowery dress with your hands. It was pretty. Maybe you'd buy it.
You changed back into your clothes, heading back out to the girls.
"Heyyy. What happened in there?" Bishop teased.
"I wouldn't be able to explain because I didn't get it either." You answered.
"Damn. He's that good?" Melissa joked as well.
"Oh you have, NO idea." You smirked, making the girls woo.
You headed with them to the counter to pay for your things. You had decided to get only the little dress.
"Will that be all?" The cashier asked with a smile.
"Yes thank you!" You said returning her smile.
"Well, it's been paid for already."
You blinked the girls wooing again.
"The lieutenant…" the cashier tried, now a bit confused.
"Of course.. hum… thank you." You said with another smile.
You walked out with them when bishop decided to tease more.
"He loves to spoil you rotten doesn't he?" She joked, wiggling her eyebrows.
You shook your head but couldn't stop yourself from smiling. If only they knew what you knew. The way he had eyed you in that dress. That man spoiled you anytime yes, but this dress.. he wanted to rip it up and fuck you in it. You wouldn't complain for a second though.
You had joined the rest of the team. Amy was still happily settled in between Price and Liza. But someone was missing.
"Where's Simon ?"
"Oh he said he got something to do. He'd join us later." Price informed you.
You frowned but nodded.
"There's another shop that you NEED to see." Melissa almost yelled.
"Guys… I'm tired…" you whined.
"Come on. You need to." Melissa confirmed.
You were curious. You had rarely seen her so adamant about something. So you accepted. It caught soap and Gaz's attention who decided they wanted to follow you too but we're quickly shut down by Melissa and Margo. Now you truly were curious. They slipped their arms through yours and walked away with you.
The store was mysterious. There were no open windows to look inside. Nothing that could tip you on what the store was. You had stepped in to be in shock. Not only was it a lingerie store, but it was much more than that. Little costumes, some toys and accessories like handcuffs and collars.
"How the hell was this permitted on base?" You asked in a laugh.
"I think we should all secretly thank Kate." Melissa added. "You got to follow me. When I saw this, I immediately thought of you."
You frowned but she grabbed your hand, dragging you and a very curious Margo behind her. When you finally stopped in front of some mannequins you finally understood.
"Oh my god. YES." Margo squealed.
You looked at the little pink dress. The velvety fabric mixed with fake fur and lace. It was a strapless dress, two pom poms acting as buttons on the corset. A flowy skirt with white lace at the bottom. Two separate sleeves, and white fishnets thigh highs. But the most noticeable feature. The bunny headband with pose-able white fluffy bunny ears.
"Oh my god…" you said under your breath.
"I will BUY it for you if you don't." Melissa warned.
You smirked at her.
"Oh don't worry. I'm going to buy it."
It had been a full hour and half and Simon hadn't come back yet. You wondered where he had run off to.
"Y/N, Y/N!" Soap called.
You turned to him.
"Can I take Riley to training?" He asked full of hope.
You weren't exactly against it… but you were a bit scared to leave Riley with anyone else for now.
"We'll have to think about it."
You spun around at the sound.
"Hey, where have you been?" You asked.
"I ran a little errand." He answered.
You were confused. He winked at you.
"Let's head home." Price called.
Everyone agreed, and home you were headed.
Once home everyone went their way. The girls had gone back to the house in front of yours, Melissa with them. Price had gone to base. Riley walked upstairs with you to put your new purchases in your room. Riley jumped on your bed as you closed the door behind you. It made you so happy to see him so comfortable. He loved to cuddle Reaper and it made you melt.
You started putting away your new clothes when you spotted the pretty pink outfit. You bit your lip. You wanted to try it. You jumped up grabbing the bag and running to your bathroom. You very meticulously put in the outfit. You made sure the fishnet thigh fit, even though they squished a bit your thighs. You put the bunny ears, putting one of the ears down cutely. You spun around looking at yourself in the mirror.
It was cute. Pretty. You wondered how Simon would react. You picked up the last little thing in the bag. Turns out the store did another very interesting thing. Leather collars, that you could personalize. Now these weren't pet ones… not that kind of pet at least. You chose a pink one, the little medallion engraved 'Bunny' and the back… you bit your lip. You were really curious about his reaction.
You walked back into the bedroom, looking for your phone. You noticed Riley on the bed. His tail wagged when he saw you and you smiled. You sat on the new on your knees, petting the pup who turned around for belly rubs. He decided to give some love back by licking up your hands to your face. You giggled, trying not to be attacked by the amount of love he was sending your way.
When the door opened, you jolted back, Riley taking back his usual protective stance.
"Y/N, have you-"
Simon stared at you. He looked shocked behind his mask. You bit your lip. Was it too much? Did you go overboard? Riley jumped from the bed, joining Simon. He wagged his tail, ready to get his attention.
"You've been a good boy. You've been keeping an eye on my bunny. " He said. Eyes never leaving yours as his hands ruffled the fur around Riley's neck.
"How about that training buddy huh?" Riley growled, suddenly fully alert, he was perfectly aware of what it meant and he looked excited.
"si-"
"Sit right there baby. Just stay there and look pretty for me. I'm gonna take care of you in a little moment."
He headed to the door, swinging it open. Riley had followed up like a good pup.
"MCTAVISH." He roared in the hallway, making you jump.
You heard the rush of Soap's footsteps up the stairs. Simon grabbed the handle of the door, slightly closing it to hide the view of you, sitting on the bed, cute little pink bunny suit, no underwear.
"Yes lieutenant?" Soap's almost shaky voice asked, probably slightly scared of the tone he was called.
"You wanted to take Riley for a little training. today's your chance."
"Really?! fuck ye-" he roared happily.
"Take Gaz and koning."
"What?"
"I have to repeat myself? you have two minutes to get out of the house."
You could see him take his phone out, you quickly realized he was setting a timer.
"TWO minutes. Starting. Now."
Soap scurried off calling Riley's attention who followed him. Simon walked back into the room, closing the door behind him.
You were wet already. The feeling of his hands on you was a craving that burned bright deep in you. You squirmed, earning a chuckle from him.
"Look at you.. so needy."
"Simon..." you whined.
"Keep sitting pretty. Two minutes my love."
He put the phone up on the chest of drawers making sure you could see the timer. You watched the seconds tick down with anticipation.
"Be a good girl. Be patient. This is the first step from teaching you obedience."
You bit your lip. The velvety fabric of the dress making you shiver, your skin almost crawling at every touch.
"You'll be a good girl. And you're going to wait. If you do so. You'll get a reward. If you misbehave. You'll get punished. Am I clear?" He explained in a dark tone, leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his chest.
You nodded.
"Use your words."
"yes..."
"yes who?"
"yes lieutenant..." you whined.
"Good girl."
You grabbed the sheets underneath you. His eyes roamed your body, suddenly the temperature seemed to have risen way too much. You watched him take his mask off, putting it down next to his phone. Two minutes. You never felt two minutes pass by so slowly.
"You look so pretty, baby. Where did you get that?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.
"At.. the mall. There's a shop…" you tried to explain.
"I'll have to pay them a visit. See what else they got for my princess."
Princess? That was new… you blushed heavily. He laughed at that.
"You like being called princess? I can see you blush from here. The way your skin gets rosy… all the way down to your beautiful breasts."
The more he talked, the wetter you got. You could feel the warmth mixed with wetness in between your legs.
"Look at you. Being a patient darling for me." He praised.
He reached for his shirt, slipping it over his head, letting it fall to the floor. And you noticed it. The piece of plastic to his skin… where… you left a lipstick mark.
"Simon?" You questioned.
He followed your gaze. Smirking.
"You… you tattooed it?!" You asked, ready to jump towards him.
"Bunny. Stay on the bed." He warned.
You froze. Now this was torture. He dropped a bomb on you and now… now you had to sit still?
"Yeah I did. I wanted something on me. From you. Not a jewel. Not a piece of clothing… something no one could take from me.."
"Simon.." you whined.
Your fingers grabbed the sheets harder. Your heart felt like it'd fly out of your chest.
"Go on..whine."
There was something. With him. His behavior. Was it the near death experience? The way he saw you breakdown from the sheer fear of losing him. The way you clung to him since he arrived. What was it? The way he looked at you. The way he licked his lips looking at you. His gaze dark.
"You've put yourself in danger. Do you understand?" He started, voice a few octaves lower than usual.
You nodded shyly.
"You were in a danger zone. You strayed away from the team when you were told not to." He continued.
You remained silent.
"I can't bear to see you hurt or in danger…"
"I couldn't bear losing you Simon.." you argued.
"I know baby. I'm right here now. I'm gonna take care of you."
The ringing echoed through your mind and body. The timer. He grabbed the phone, angrily turning it off before putting down on your desk, stepping closer to the bed. God. The way he walked. How did this man could be so fucking hot by simply walking?
He reached you, grabbing your chin softly, making you look at me.
"Fuck you look adorable…" he cursed.
He dived down, ceasing your lips. The slow, deep kiss made you moan against him. You straightened up, trying to get him closer to you. He stepped back, grinning.
"You were patient. Like a good girl. Lay back baby."
You happily obliged, laying on your back head on your pillows. He looked at you, almost like a predator. You wanted to say it felt like a wolf hunting a Bunny, just for the beautiful picture of it, but this wasn't a wolf. It was something darker. More powerful. He was a demon, some shadow like king and you were at his mercy. At his mercy, yet completely safe.
He raised his hand letting his finger caress your cheek before letting it travel down your neck. Slowly, achingly slowly, he passed over your chest, traveling down your stomach, straight towards… he didn't touch you. He simply hovered it before moving to the end of the bed. He kneeled down, positioning himself in between your legs. His big hands squeezed your thighs making you giggle, earning a grin from him.
"You know… I'm not gonna take off your pretty outfit. I'm going to fuck you in it."
You felt your breath stop in your lungs. His hands traveled up and down your thighs, slowly raising the skirt of the dress. Of course you didn't put your panties on.
"Fuck… look at that…"
You blushed. He had seen you naked so many times. He still found the words to make you blush like a schoolgirl.
"Such a pretty little pussy…"
You felt his hand rise up towards your heat, his thumb hovering over your lips, not applying pressure. You tried to wiggle your hips but his other hand held you in place.
"No. You'll get it, when I'll allow it. Understood?"
"Yes… yes lieutenant…"
"Good girl. See. You can be such a good bunny for me."
His thumb rubbed up and down your slit, finger coating in your juices. You bit your lip, a little moan escaping your lips. You tried not to wiggle again. His eyes never left yours as finally rubbed your clit very softly. He watched with fascination your every moan, gasp, lip bite.
"I need to taste you…"
Your eyes flashed open wide. You wanted to say something but it was a bit late, he was already lowering himself to you. He pressed mouth open kisses on your thighs. The anticipation was killing you. He looked up at you before biting on your thigh. Harshly. You yelped, hand flying to his hair to grasp it. He sucked on the skin, breaking the little blood vessels underneath it, making sure a dark red bruise was visible. He looked at his handy work before kissing the little mark, making his way back to your aching little cunt.
The little breath on your lips, made you sigh. He kissed it, making you blush again. His tongue licked through your folds in a long straight line. He groaned against you, the vibration only adding to your pleasure.
"Fuck.. you taste divine." He groaned again.
His tongue made sure to explore every sweet spot, it felt good. It felt, really good. You were glad that the house was empty because you kept moaning loudly. Your hand in his hair, tugging slightly every time he licked or sucked at that little bud of nerves. He was making you sensitive. You could feel goosebumps as the sight of an orgasm was getting closer.
He played with it. He made sure to lick and press with his tongue until he felt your body getting more and more tense, moans getting louder and then he'd stop. Just to do it all over again. Tongue savoring you, he built up your orgasm again, this time he kept going, through the rise of your voice and the tremble of your legs.
"Si..Simon… gon'cum.."
He stopped. You whined loudly. He sat back up in between your legs. You looked up at him pleading. He lowered himself to your face.
"Taste yourself on my tongue.." he whispered.
He kissed you, tongue salty. You moaned, trying to wrap your legs around his waist but he stopped you.
"This is the punishment, remember?" He said with a smirk.
Getting back into position, he let his fingers run up and down your slit again, thumb teasing your clit again. You moaned the pleasure slightly more intense from the edging. His index teased your entrance before slowly pushing in. You gasped, wiggling your hips. Now he played with your clit while slowly pumping his finger in and out.
"Let's add another finger… you've taken more than that… my cock fills you much better than this."
A second finger at your entrance before you stretched out to welcome both. Now he played, curling his fingers inside to build you up again. But denying you. He'd stop, remove his finger, hands back on your thighs to caress them but nowhere near where you needed them. You were starting to feel overwhelmed, the tears prickling at your eyes.
He started his torture again, thumb on your clit two fingers pumping in and out at a slow steady pase. He curled them again making your head fall back. You felt yourself tip over the edge… almost.. almost there. Until he removed his fingers again.
"No!" You whimpered.
He chuckled darkly.
"Now bunny. Did you think I'd let you off that easily?"
He stood up, looking at you as he slowly unbuckled his belt. The fucking sound always made you clench around nothing. He undressed himself, his already hard cock in his hand. He pumped himself a few times, the sight of you, legs wide open just for him making him groan. He kneeled down in between your legs, tip brushing against your clit, coating himself in your slick.
He noticed the collar, fingers grabbing the medallion.
"Bunny. Now that's cute. What's written in the back?" He questioned spinning the metal in his hand.
He froze. You didn't think he'd react like that. Not for just this.
"Say it. Out loud." He ordered.
He was asking you to say out loud what you had asked engraved on it? You looked away but he quickly stopped you, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.
"Say it. You've been a good girl. If you want your reward. Say it."
You wanted your reward. You needed it.
"Property of Lieutenant Ghost Riley…"
He pushed his tip through your folds, a familiar burn making you arch your back. He pushed himself until he bottomed out. He wasted no time to pound you at a steady pace. His hand remained around your neck, watching you as his name spilled from your lips. You were sensitive. Too sensitive. He had denied your orgasm too much. He let go of your neck, grabbing your thighs as he looked down.
"Fuck… what a sight. Your.. shit… your pretty cunt… taking me… fuck… so well…"
You whimpered at his words. The tears had long won their fight, tears running down your cheeks as you tried to remain at least focused on him, mind dizzy.
"Si.. Simon.. please…"
"Fuck.. look at you. Tears running down… fuck… your face.. I love ruining you."
His pace quickened, hips smacking into yours. You were loud. Shit you were loud. He shifted again letting go of your legs to let you wrap them around his waist. He grabbed your wrists, putting your hands over your head. He intertwined his fingers with your, eyes planted into your as he fucked you passionately.
"Are.. you, going to listen to me?"
You nodded frantically, unable to speak.
"Words..use your words." He ordered.
"Y-Yes! I'll.. listen… please… please…" you tried.
"That's it baby, keep your legs open for me
give me full access to you, keep your body open… you're taking me so well, fuck I'm addicted to this... you're a fucking drug." He praised you.
You couldn't take it anymore, you wanted to cum so badly, it burned.
"Please.. lieutenant! Please!"
He chuckled again. But you could feel in his own thrusts he was close.
"You're going to be… a good girl?" He growled.
"Ye-s… yes! I.. be your good girl…" you whined.
"I'm gonna fill you up baby, and you're going to take it.."
"Please!" You whimpered again through a cry.
He looked at you, slowly angling himself to hit the perfect spot. You were breaking apart, finally reaching your orgasm.. a thrust and you were gone. Little spots blurring your vision. You were sure you screamed his name as he pounded you through his own orgasm. It took a long minute to catch your breath. You were still crying. He had caught you in his arms, praises falling from his lips. He kissed your soaked cheeks, repeating how much of a good girl you were, how you did so good for him.
"You alright bunny?" He asked softly.
You nodded, biting your lip.
"You were amazing darling. You've done so well, I'm proud of you."
He kissed you, little kisses, sweet.
"I think that bunny suit has awakened something in me…" he teased.
You couldn't help but giggle. The bunny suit had been an amazing idea. You'd make sure to wear it more often.
We’ve done it. It’s here. I’ll ask for forgiveness now. Please read all the tags!
Warnings: 18+ content, knife play, roughhousing, biting, ghost is kind of a meanie but in a cute way, hot and cold ghost, praise.
8:57 P.M
The clock read. You had checked and re-checked your phone consistently for the the last five minutes.
Ghost’s quarters were only 30 feet away, around the corner and to the left but even hidden from its view, you still felt too close for comfort.
“If I’m early, it’ll back fire.” You groaned. Only a minute had passed but you felt your heart quicken even more.
Honestly, you couldn’t tell if you were excited, nervous or just outright panicking.
8:59 P.M
“Now or never.” You prepped your self, rounding the corner. You took a deep breath, eyeing your destination. However, something made you stop in your tracks.
“What the hell?” You muttered to yourself. When you first arrived, the door was closed and a light was on. Now, it was cracked opened and dark. Only the moonlight gave it life as you approached.
“Ghost?” You called out, peaking your head in. You honestly had forgotten about the events leading up to you even being here, now just feeling overcome with worry and frustration.
You pushed the door open further, letting yourself in to see if he had left for the night to stay off base instead. You noted the lack of bags and how neat the bed looked. It all looked so untouched and that earned a hearty laugh from you.
“I got fucking stood up.” You couldn’t tell if you were laughing in relief or anger now. “That motherfu-“
You found your words being cut short as the door slammed behind you and your chest met the nearest wall. You felt your arms being pulled behind you and pinned to the arch of your back.
It all happened in seconds and now you found yourself stuck, hot puffs of air coming out muffled through fabric.
“What were you about to call me?” His thick accent spoke beside you, pushing his body into yours and forcing the air out of your lungs at the weight.
You let out a breathy giggle. “A motherfucker, Lieutenant.”
You felt him squeeze your arms a little tighter, coaxing a gasp out of you at the delicious pain.
“That’s not going to cut it tonight, Sergeant.” He whispered. “You’re going to have to be kinder than that.”
“And what should I call you?” You teased. “Simon?”
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, noting the way he watched your devious smirk form as you spoke.
“Maybe you get off on just being called Ghost.” You wanted to push his buttons the same way he had you pushed against the wall. “That’s why you insist we call you that, isn’t it?”
“Watch it.” He hissed.
“Or what?” Your words were labored at this point from the pressure. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“You like this, huh?” He spoke as you felt him release you suddenly. Taking a few steps back when you turned yourself around and leaned against the wall.
“Like what?” You looked at him straight through your lashes.
“Pissing me off.” He crossed his arms, stepping forward.
“I didn’t know I had such power over you.” You smiled. “How cute.”
You let your head rest against the wall as your chest was falling up and down heavily. You watched the way he studied how your lips parted as you panted.
“Do you dream about me too?” His eyes made their way back to yours.
“Yes.” He answered nonchalantly.
Your eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion before composing yourself again. Your eyes searched his and found nothing but seriousness. There was no hint of play in them like there had been earlier.
You hated the way he could easily steal your power from you.
“What do you dream about?” You words felt breathless now.
Simon looked at you, letting his arms drop back at his sides again. You could tell he was thinking, weighing between options before deciding on one and stepping closer to you.
You watched as he closed you in, his hands on either side of your head and his body pressing closer to yours. You were face to face with his collar bones as his head practically hung over yours.
You looked down toward the floor, hiding your smile and the way your face flushed.
“Want me to tell you?” His words were so close to your ear.
“Or show you?”
Oh, you were in awe. Your chest rose and fell at a rapid pace with excitement.
“Look at me, Sergeant.”
God, he didn’t even need to ask.
You rose your head, coming face to face with him. His vacant eyes searching yours as they met.
“Won’t you take the mask off?” You quipped, trying to deter the situation no matter how closely your thighs were squeezed together now.
“Show my face?” You could her the small smirk on his lips.
“Yes sir.” You looked at him with dreamy eyes.
“Can’t do that.” He shook his head slightly.
“Why not?” You tilted your head to the side, earning a small sigh from him. “Are you ugly?”
“Quite the opposite.”
Fuck.
You cursed yourself mentally after he had rendered you speechless again. Lips parted and panting, you could do nothing at this point. He really had a hold on you.
“You want to see?.” He questioned, somehow getting impossibly closer. “You want to see what’s under my mask, show you my real face?”
Your heart was clawing at it’s cage now. You could feel the outline of his ear pressed almost against your cheek and hear the sound of fabric shuffling slightly filled your senses.
“You want me to show you all of me huh?” His words were clear now and you could almost feel the skin of his lips brushing against you. “To bear it all just like you do in this fucking shirt.”
You tried to look out of the corner of your eye, to catch of a glimpse of the ever elusive Ghost.
“I have half the mind to tear it off ya.” He hissed, leaning closer to block any chance of you seeing even a sliver of his face.
“Then do it.” You let out. “You said you’d punish me right?”
You heard his airy taken aback gasp followed by a heavy sigh against your neck.
“Don’t tell me you’re fucking scared now, Ghost.” You pushed just a little further.
And push harder you did. You felt his lips dance along your neck before biting down harshly.
“Shit.” You hissed at the sudden feeling.
“Watch your fucking mouth.” His mask had fallen back down as he leaned back and met your feral eyes.
“Make me then.” It was so fucking cliche but you wanted him to. You wanted him to make you eat those words.
“You get on my fucking nerves.” He spoke but there was no venom behind his words, no sting, no truth.
The tips of his fingers danced along the strap of your shirt. “Do I now?” You quizzed with a sly smile. “Do you think about how annoying I am? I bet I’m always on your mind.”
“You have no idea.” He mumbled to himself but you still caught it.
He reached in his back pocket, fiddling around before pulling out a shiny blade. The knife flipped open with a satisfying click and he held it to the top of your flimsy tank top.
Your eyes never left his face, not when his eyes dropped to the knife meeting the fabric and slicing through the middle like it was nothing. Your eyes didn’t falter when your shirt piled to either side of you from nothing keeping it together.
“Fuck.” He drew out, shamefully staring at your now bare chest.
“Like what you see?” You smirked.
He looked at you and you watched the thoughts swirl behind his eyes before he spoke again.
“Turn around.” Was all that left his lips.
You cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised by his sudden statement.
“You listening to me, doll?” There was that damned smirk again. “I need you to turn around for me.”
“Why is that?” God, you loved messing with him.
He pulled on the front of your pants, hooking a finger to the inside of them and tugging you off the wall. “Gonna make you mine.”
He spun you around quickly, pinning your bare chest to the wall and holding your hips firmly.
“You ok with that?” He spoke against your ear. “You wanna be mine?
“Want me to claim you?” His fingers started undoing the button on your cargos. “Show you how no one else can satisfy you?”
Your head was whirling. Your eyes closed at his words, drinking them in like a shot of expensive liquor. “All you’ll be able to think about is me. You want that? Huh?” He hissed against your ear as his hands slipped down the front of your pants.
“Gotta talk to me baby.” He cooed as a finger danced along your clothed slit, soaking in just how wet you were. “Need to hear how good you feel.”
He watched the way your lips fell open in the sweetest O shape at him pushing your black thong to the side and sliding his calloused finger across your clit.
“Don’t tell me you’re fucked dumb already.” He chuckled, continuing to rub you.
“Fuck you.” You whined under your breath.
“Mmm.” He mused. “Say it again.”
You sighed at the break from pleasure as his fingers left your clit. You were breathing heavy, head spinning as he slid his index finger inside of you.
“Simon.” You whined, hand wrapping around his wrist as he pumped his finger agonizingly slow.
“Hmm?” He hummed. “Want another? I bet you can take it.”
Your chest was rising and falling faster than before as you dug your nails into the skin of his forearm when he slid his finger out and added another.
“That’s it.” He pushed them into you with a delicious curl. “That’s a good girl.”
“Shit.” You hissed as he pumped harder, making sure his palm bumped against your puffy clit. “Fuck, Simon.”
“You’re close already?” His words filled your thoughts. You nodded dumbly, mouth open and panting.
Heat washed over you, pushing you closer the edge of coming undone for him. Honestly it felt embarrassing how fast he had you melting his just his hands.
You were shameless though. Throwing away any dignity just to chase the high he was about to give you. Just as the cord tightened and your body tensed, he withdrew his hand with an adoring smile hidden under his mask.
“Oh you’re so-“ you struggled to get out. “So fucking cruel.”
The look you gave him over your shoulder was deadly. He was sure he hadn’t seen this look since your first mission together and now being under its scrutiny was damn near bone chilling. Still, he smirked and you knew it from the way his eyes stared down at you.
He didn’t reward you with a snarky comment, instead he was forcing your heavy cargos down past your ass and the black lacy thong you wore went with them.
“Need you to bend over for me.” He voiced as he began undoing his own jeans.
You groaned, shuffling your feet backwards and keeping your chest to the wall.
“That’s it.” He hissed as he began to pump himself slowly. “Atta girl.”
You bit at your lip, holding in the moan when he placed the tip of his heavy cock against your slit and began rubbing up and down before pushing in slowly.
“Atta fucking girl.” He hissed, gripping your ass to spread you open even more.
“Simon.” You whined, “too much.”
“You can do it baby.” He pushed further, splitting you open with a delicious ache. “Relax for me.”
“Ah-“ You hand jolted back, trying to reach his hips and a half hearted attempt to halt his movement.
“That’s it.” He groaned, moving his hips slowly. “So proud of you.” His praise made your cheeks burn.
Simon drew his hips back, brushing against that delicious spot on the way before almost pulling completely out and slamming hard back into you.
“Good.” He growled. “So fucking good.”
His thrusts were relentless. Ensuring you felt every inch of his thick cock when he fucked you. You yelped as the tip brushed against your cervix, earning a hiss from him when you tightened around him. Wet slaps filled the air as he pounded you faster, determined to fill every inch of you that he could.
“You’re mine.” He hissed, leaning forward with his hand around your throat.
He watched the way your mouth hung open but no noise could even leave this sweet lips of yours, not when he fucked you this good.
“Got that?” His other hand reached to the front of you, tugging on your puffy clit. You moaned in response but that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Go on.” He growled in your ear. “Go on. Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“Simon-“ You felt like you could cry. “Please-“ Every word was cut short by his thrusts deeper into you. You were so close that it hurt and your mind was racing.
Of course you were his.
“I’m - fuck - I’m yours.” You almost sobbed. “Belong to you.”
He reached for your hands, pulling them behind your back and pinning them against you to use to fuck you harder. He yanked you back on his cock at the same time he thrusted forward too many times to count before the inside of your thighs ran slick and he had you coming undone around him. A few more dizzying pumps and you felt him pull out if you with a moan.
“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, slipping his free arm around your waist to keep you from falling.
“Did so good for me.” He praised between pants against your shoulder. “Don’t think I’m gonna let you go now.” You smiled, turning your face away from him.
SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.
WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.
A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3
WORD COUNT: 10.1k.
MASTERLIST.
Also on Ao3!
Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.
Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.
So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.
And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.
So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…
…only to find it closed.
And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.
He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.
Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.
He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon /was/ slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.
As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.
Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.
He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.
"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.
"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.
"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.
"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."
He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.
"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.
"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.
Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.
So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.
His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.
"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."
"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.
"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.
The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.
Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.
You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.
So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.
"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."
Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.
"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.
You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.
"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"
"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)
Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.
"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."
You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.
Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.
"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.
"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.
He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.
"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.
"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"
"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.
"As you wish, lovie."
He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.
"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.
"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.
He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."
"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"
"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.
And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.
"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."
You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.
He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.
"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"
You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.
"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.
"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"
"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."
You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.
"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."
He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.
"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.
"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.
Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.
"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.
He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.
"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"
"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"
"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."
"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.
"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"
He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."
He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.
"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."
"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"
A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.
"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"
Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.
"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.
"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.
You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.
"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"
You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.
He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.
"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."
He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.
"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"
"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."
Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.
"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."
Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.
"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"
Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.
"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."
Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.
Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.
"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."
He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.
"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."
Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.
"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.
"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.
Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.
Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.
So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.
As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.
Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.
The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.
As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.
As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.
He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.
Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.
That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.
And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.
But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.
None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.
Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.
Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.
He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.
But he didn't.
He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.
But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.
He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.
He'd expected it to be a short mission.
One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.
He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…
That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.
Until it all went haywire.
The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.
Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.
When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.
They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.
But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.
As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.
Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.
The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.
The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.
The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.
He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.
Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.
Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.
Answer.
Ignoring.
Asshole.
Appointment.
Doctor.
Pub.
Baby.
Pregnancy.
His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.
Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-
You.
Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.
His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.
He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.
— I'm pregnant.
— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.
— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.
— Please pick up.
— I know you're getting the messages.
— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.
— I have to keep it or risk my life.
— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.
— I'm scared.
— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.
— Fuck you.
— …
— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.
— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.
The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.
The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.
It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.
His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.
It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.
This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.
He was an asshole.
Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.
"I'm an asshole."
He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.
All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.
He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.
As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.
Who's to say you had even kept the baby?
Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?
The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.
"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.
All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.
Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.
Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.
You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.
As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.
Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.
You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.
A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.
Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.
Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.
"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.
As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.
You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.
"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.
God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-
Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.
"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"
You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.
Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.
"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"
Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.
Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.
It was him. It was fucking him.
"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.
obsessed with how you write ghost omfg. could i request a silly smut fic? (not actually silly i just can’t be serious)
ghost x medic reader (gn/fem aligned?), mutual pining. ghost gets a minor injury on his thigh and medic reader helps him out but he can’t stop thinking about how soft and small their hands were so he goes and…helps himself afterwards. you can take it wherever you want from there
Oh absolutely 😈 thank you for the ask 🤍
Wounded
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Doctor!Reader
Synopsis: Ghost shows gratitude for your help with his injury.
Warnings: SMUT. Cursing, mentions of medical procedures, a bit of gore, oral sex (F! Receiving), p-in-v sex, unsafe/unprotected sex (contraceptives mentioned), cumming inside.
He'd sauntered in, a limp to his walk, though still carrying his weight as if he wasn't leaving drops of blood over the floor behind him.
He would've gone unnoticed around the busy hospital, had it not been for his giant body looming at your door. Your head turned to see the armoured man.
You'd seen him before, as a patient, and on base, usually alone. He had a silent disposition and commanded authority with his presence alone. He was always stoic, even more so with the mask over his face. You'd learned to read his body language; the stiffness in his muscles anytime he came across your office. He'd shift his weight every so often, and always looked you in the eye.
You would've been intimidated, had you not already known him from the unplanned visits he made to your office when he'd add another injury to the ever-growing list.
You were attracted to him, in a way that made you nervous. You made sure sure it didn't affect your work, avoiding the temptation even though he always dragged himself to your door, bleeding out, asking for your help. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold out, despite the nagging voice in your head repeating that it was wrong, an abuse of your position.
"Lieutenant," You greeted him from your desk, turning your body to face him.
"Need a tune-up, Doc," He grumbled.
Your eyes scanned his body for any discernible injuries, finally falling to an open, weeping gash just above his knee. His fatigues were stained red, the pink flesh of his muscle visible.
"Take a seat," You nodded to the examination table.
Standing from your chair, Ghost's gaze wandered from the wall to your frame, his eyes trailing down the curve of your hips, to the undeniably arousing view of your ass as you bent over.
He had taken a liking to you. He liked seeing you. You always had something to say, always took his mind off the chaos for a moment when you talked to him. He liked the conversation, and would only ever have you fix his wounds.
You had a gentle touch, soft and warm, but confident. You'd patched him up more times than he could count; bullet wounds, nasty cuts he got from fieldwork, even the reckless injuries you scolded him for.
He favoured you, your work, found your bluntness invigorating. He felt like you saw him, understood him. Maybe it was your degree in psychology, but he liked to think you purposely studied him to know him.
He was drawn to you, your warmth, your empathy, your smell, and the way your scrubs fit wasn't a bad sight for an injured marine, either.
"It's above your knee?" You asked, sliding gloves over your hands.
He nodded.
"You'll have to take them off," You said, your eyes falling to his pants.
You held your breath, waiting expectantly for adamant denial or a piercing glare. Ghost always took your orders in stride; you knew what you were doing, but asking him to strip in front of you was something you anticipated he'd protest.
He paused for a movement, before standing to his feet, undoing his belt and dropping his fatigues down his legs.
His thighs spread over the table as he made himself comfortable, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his uninjured leg.
You swallowed. Surprised, but not unaffected by the sight before you. You tried not to stare at his naked thighs, or the prominent bulge in his briefs. You blinked a few times, clearing the depraved thoughts from your mind. He was still your patient- you were a doctor.
You flushed the wound, cleaned the area gently, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you. Grabbing your suture material and needle drivers, you paused before beginning.
"I know you've done this before, but let me know if you need a breather."
He merely nodded, watching you pull the subcuticular layers of his skin back together. Your eyes were focused solely on your work, ignoring the hyper-awareness of how close your bodies were, how you could hear his soft breaths, feel the impressive muscles of his thighs that flexed with every movement.
Not a single utterance of protest came from him, even when the needle pierced his skin and tugged it closed.
His eyes shut- even through the latex he could feel the warmth of your hands, your delicate but skilled fingers prodding and pulling at his flesh. Your voice pulled him from his stupor, his eyes finding yours.
"How did this one happen?" You asked, your eyes lifting to his.
You swallowed again. His eyes were glued to yours, narrowed. You had a nagging feeling he could see right through you- the way your breathing picked up, your jugular pounded against the soft skin of your throat. He could probably smell the arousal seeping from your pores.
"Throwin' knives," He said, now peering down at your hands.
Your palm rested on his thigh as you inspected your sutures.
He took note of just how small your hand was, compared to the muscle of his thigh. How good it felt against him, and what else he could imagine those hands doing; wrapped around his cock, your light touch urging him to his climax, the sweet, relaxing voice of yours whispering in his ear.
"You should be more careful," Your brows furrowed.
"Should be," He nodded. "If I were, don't think I'd ever see you."
"Is that a bad thing?" You smiled, finishing the last knot.
When he didn't answer, his eyes firmly looking you over, testing your boundaries, you sat back on the stool, collecting yourself, clearing your throat. It wouldn't just be harmless flirting, not if he made it into something.
"You can get dressed."
You watched from the corner of your eye while washing your hands as he pulled his fatigues back over his legs.
"Cheers, Doc," He said, giving you one last look before he left.
—
He leaned back against the headboard, his hand tucked into the waistband of his pants.
He sucked in a sharp breath as he took hold of his cock, teasing strokes as he imagined your eyes, the soft curves of your face, and those scrubs you wore that he ached to tear off. You'd lean over him, use those gentle hands to stroke up and down, letting spit drip from your puffy lips to the head of his cock.
His head fell back, knees bending as he settled into position, his eyes rolling back into his head as his testes tightened.
"Fuckin' hell," He grunted, his body twitching as he moved faster.
Behind his eyes he could see you whispering in his ear, begging for his cock, undressing yourself for him, letting him kiss and touch every part of you.
He liked to think you'd be soaked, silky liquid dousing his cock, only getting wetter with every passing moment while he fucked you.
He wondered if you always smelled so fucking good, not a perfume, just you. He could almost smell it now, seeping into his senses until the warmth in his gut nearly burned.
"That's it," He grunted again, a bit louder this time but he hardly notice. "That's fuckin' it."
He'd nearly made it, so close to relief when there was a knock at his door.
He growled in frustration, removing his hand before making his way to the door. Throwing his mask on, he yanked it open.
You stood behind it, your eyes moving to his when he appeared before you.
"Lieutenant," You smiled. "You forgot these," You said, shaking a bottle of pain medication.
He chuckled- it was almost like he'd willed you to his room, or maybe you knew just how badly he wanted you.
"Thanks," He said, taking the bottle from you to set it aside.
"Stitches holding up okay?" You asked.
He nodded. "Why you askin'?"
"Sounded like some pretty rigorous exercise going on in there," You teased, a small smile overtaking your lips.
You couldn't help yourself, couldn't hold back from falling into his well-lain trap. You'd brought yourself to his door, this time- it was real.
His face would've gone crimson, he would've bashfully tried to explain himself- but that wasn't the kind of man he was. Especially not when the object of his desire was at his door, alone, flush-faced and doe-eyed.
"You spyin' on me?"
It was your turn to be put on the spot. Redness creeping over your neck and cheeks at the way his eyes stared you up and down, his body leaning against the doorframe.
"No," You shook your head. "I don't usually make house calls," You said, stepping a bit closer, your face level with his chest. Your head tipped up, unafraid of the abyss in his eyes. "But, I made an exception for you."
"'M flattered, Doc. You joinin' me, or still on office hours?" His smug smile was blatant- you wouldn't give in so easily.
"Off the clock," You answered, stepping inside the threshold, past him. "I can leave, if you're busy."
"I always got time for you, sweetheart," He tilted his head, watching the bashful smile lift your lips.
He stalked closer, shutting the door behind him slowly, cautiously.
He could read you well, especially with the lustful glaze over your eyes. You were begging him to call your bluff.
His chest bumped against your back, and you could hear his quiet breaths in your ear. You held your oblivious disposition, even as his hand slid around your waist, an unexpectedly light touch, fingertips grazing your stomach.
"Be glad to make your trip worthwhile."
Your eyes blinked lazily, turning your head to find his chest. You felt a flutter in your womb, your panties already wet with arousal.
His fingers slid down your stomach to graze your pelvis, reaching further, putting pressure against the seam of your pants, teasing you. It made you flinch, even minimal contact had you on edge, anticipating what he would do next.
"That'd be nice of you."
"Think you deserve better than nice."
You bit your cheek, watching as he tugged your scrubs down, following his lead as he turned you to back you against the wall. Your chest was rising and falling hurriedly, your hands connecting to the crown of his head as he slid down to his knee.
He hooked his fingers under his mask, lifting it to his nose bridge. Coarse hands ran up your calf, lifting your thigh to his shoulder.
"Lieutenant," You warned, shaken from the haze of arousal clouding your judgement. "Watch your leg."
"Stop talkin' Doc," He shot back, his eyes on you as he moved closer, resting his hands around your thighs. "You ain't workin' anymore," He said; low, unthreatening.
Your jaw dropped when his lips connected to your hip bone, moving further down to press slow, sensuous kisses to the velvety skin of your inner thighs and pubic bone.
He pressed his face into the crest of your thighs, parting you with his tongue, gliding between to caress your clit with a gentle touch.
Your knees trembled, threatening to give out when his pressure increased, but he held you firmly in his grip, denying any attempts to shy from his tongue.
His lips around your clit made your head fall against the wall, a quiet moan escaping from the depths of your lungs, your fingers dug into his scalp.
You were drenched; saliva and liquid arousal running between your thighs, Ghost slurping softly at every escaping drop, lapping his tongue over the sensitive organ to make your body shake.
"Shit," You whispered, a strangled sound leaving your lips between gasps for air.
He ignored the pain in his thigh- likely his stitches stretching the connected skin, but his mind was far too invested in your moans and whimpers, the way you tasted.
His fingers dug into your skin, a phantom of pain, disguised by the pleasure he showered you with. He couldn't help but grasp at your body, determined to make the most of being on his knees for you.
From below, he lifted his eyes to watch you come undone; your head tilted back, mouth open with soft pants, eyes opening and fluttering closed.
Your own fingers dug into the balaclava over his head, inadvertently pulling him into your pussy, asking for more, begging for relief.
You were so close, your pussy fluttering with desperation, your hips grinding harshly against his face, hitting his nose with every thrust. He moaned against you, determined to have you cum on his lips.
You did, pulling roughly on the fabric of his mask, squeezing your thighs together, your breathing stopping for a moment before you came-to.
Your eyes opened, finding his, watching you, studying you.
When he stood to his feet, his lips and nose glistening, he wrapped his hand in your hair, pulling your lips to his. You had to stand on your toes to reach him, desperately chasing his lips as he stepped backwards, heading toward his bed.
His tongue met yours, soft caresses turning harsh and uncaring within a few moments, his hand still fanning the expanse of your neck.
Your hand on his chest gently ushered him to the mattress, climbing over him as he laid down.
"You should really be more mindful of my handiwork," You sighed, your hand pressing against his chest.
"Thought I told you to stop talkin'."
You grinned, suppressing a laugh.
"At least let me ease the burden," You replied, an amused smile on your face as your hand rubbed over the obvious bulge in his fatigues.
His head fell back, sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. He'd been so pent up, so frustrated since leaving your office that your hands over his groin nearly made him explode.
Pulling his zipper open, you dragged them down, enough to glide your fingers over his cock with a teasing approach.
His eyes drifted shut, pleasure coursing through him at the feeling he'd imagined so many times before. It was better- much better than the version he created in his head.
Here, he could let his hand rest on your hip, didn't have to imagine what you looked like beneath the scrubs as you peeled them from your body. Best of all, your smell was invigorating, and real.
Your hands were much softer than his, smaller, too, but it mattered very little as you stroked up and down, your eyes trained on his reactions. His lips were parted, chest heaving with every breath, thighs flexing against you.
His hips twitched, furrowed brows staring you down as he fought the urge to take over, settling for praising your methodical touch.
"Fuck sake," He growled, lifting you closer, your slick pussy grinding against his cock.
"You alright?" You asked, suddenly worried you'd hurt his injury.
"More than alright. Keep goin', sweetheart."
You smiled softly, grinding your hips against him, watching his head fall back.
"Christ, I need to be inside you," He sounded desperate, still chewing his teeth.
"Sure you can handle it?" It was a genuine question, spurred by your concern for his injuries.
"Don't care much for coddlin'," He said. "Sit on my cock already."
He didn't wait long for your answer, helping you forward.
Goosebumps rose from your skin as you obliged his order, situating his cock to penetrate you slowly, stretching your pussy further than you were sure it had ever been before.
Your lips fell open in a guttural moan, and his hands rose to your waist, fingertips digging into your soft flesh.
The first few strides were utterly fucking delicious; mixed pain and pleasure, his eyes expressing euphoria at the feeling of your warm, soaked pussy wrapped around him.
"That's good," He nodded, frantic with pleasure. "Fuck, that's good."
He gritted his teeth when you rose slightly, sliding back down his length to adjust yourself. Your hands planted on his chest, squeezing into his muscle with sharp nails.
"Ghost," You murmured, your mind focusing on just how deep he was inside you.
Your eyes narrowed at him, and he reached your clit, his fingers rubbing circles over it. He sat up a bit more, his unoccupied hand gripping your hip, grinding you back and forth over his cock. His lips attached to yours, making you lean forward on his lap, your hips still rolling against his.
His tongue slid inside your mouth, not wasting time with pleasantries, swallowing every harsh breath, every whimper from your mouth.
He paused, groaning into your lips, biting at the swell of your bottom lip, before pulling away to hold himself up on one hand.
He looked up at you, fingers still massaging your clit in relentless circles that matched the pace of your hips, then dropped his gaze to watch your pussy swallow his cock with agonizing greed.
You were nearly cumming again- disbelief etched into your face with your brows dipping, satisfied moans echoing in the room, your pace sporadic and sloppy.
"You're stranglin' my fuckin' cock," He grunted, now sitting up, his hand reaching to grab your ass. "Cum on it," He whispered, his lips finding purchase on the expanse of your throat.
His foul words sent a shiver of arousal up your spine, exhaling a shallow breath through pursed lips. You laced your fingers together at the back of his neck, pulling your chest closer to his. You could look down at him, see his dark and claiming eyes poring into yours.
"Almost," You whined. "Almost there."
He didn't relent, one hand pulling at the flesh of your ass and thighs, the other in a flurry of motion across your clit. His lips laid claim to your neck and chest, teasing licks at your nipples that dragged you closer to your orgasm.
A crescendo of pleasure surged through you, warmth flooding your entire body, a loud moan escaping shamelessly. Your body hardened, hips faltering as you clenched down around him, your hands gripping his shoulders.
"Fuckin' hell," He growled, holding onto you with a fierce strength as your head bowed, and your body relaxed.
You recovered in time to find his muscles bulging, on edge, a single movement away from releasing inside you. Watching your climax had his cock twitching.
"That's it-," He moaned quietly, covered by deep breaths. "Better move, sweetheart."
"I'm on contraception," You uttered, finding the remaining strength to continue.
"I like when you talk medical." He was nearly out of breath while holding back from burying his cum inside you.
He grinned, smug and teasing, before you lifted up ever so slightly, gliding back down his cock to meet his pelvis. The change in method made him lurch forward, both hands helping to lift you up and down his cock, soft grunts and praise falling from him while you bounced on his cock.
"Jesus Doc," He mumbled, his eyes glued to your breasts. He was hesitant while reaching up to palm the malleable flesh, but did anyways, unable to resist.
He then moulded his hands to fit in your waist, his eyes shifting to yours, then he buried his face against your throat, able to inhale the scent of your shampoo, the pheromones on your slick skin. It drove him over the edge, releasing his cum deep inside you without warning.
You felt the change, his fingers a bit more rough with your flesh, his arms holding you down on his cock. He grunted a few times, leaving breathy moans against your neck.
His cock still buried deep inside you made your pussy flinch, in turn causing him to twitch, eliciting a soft groan in your ear.
It was still for a moment, the both of you regaining your wind, taking time to appreciate the after-effects.
Once settled, you dressed yourself and looked at the naked man strewn out on the bed with his arms beneath his head. His wound was bloody, your sutures having torn from his skin.
"I told you you had to be careful," You scolded, moving closer to inspect it.
Summary: Ghost realizes that he needs you more than he thought and makes a risky trip to your room while trying not to get caught.
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count: 2.4k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)
Warnings: kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship, Ghost realizing that he's absolutely whipped
A/N: The idea of Ghost being whipped just took over my mind and this is what came out. This was so much fun to write that I'm thinking about making this a mini series looking at various points in their relationship
Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist
There were lines Ghost didn’t cross.
He didn’t get involved. He didn’t let himself care. And he sure as hell didn’t let himself need someone.
For you, though, he seemed to be willing to cross every single line imaginable whether he liked it or not. He had gotten involved, telling himself then that it was just a one-time thing. He would get his fill of you for a night and he would be done, finally able to get you off of his mind. But that hadn’t been how it had gone down. Having you once only let the hold you had on him dig in deeper, settling in his bones until he found himself in your bed again. And again.
With each secret night spent in your room or his, a shitty hotel or a secluded backroom, whatever this was with you pulled him deeper into the unknown. His thoughts drifted to you even when you weren’t in the room. He found himself being more protective of you in the field. He began to check in on you enough that Soap had finally said, “Styx will be fine, Ghost. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.” Soon, he had to finally admit that he had crossed the second line. He cared.
The third line…
Ghost groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. Staring into the darkness of his room for hours with sleep evading his grasp, he was starting to grow both restless and frustrated. Having trained himself to fall asleep under any conditions in order to scrape together any amount of sleep he could while in the field, his newfound difficulties falling asleep were an unwelcome surprise. It had plagued him for the last month, making him markedly more irritable - enough to draw the entire team’s attention. He had blown off Price when he had carefully broached the subject, asserting that there was nothing wrong at all. Lie.
It was your bloody fault. It was your face that kept him up at night in one way or another. It was the way you looked when your head was tipped back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked you. It was the way you looked out in the field, your strong shoulders square and hard eyes trained forward as you held your gun and swept a building. It was your pained grimace as Ghost tried to stop the bleeding from the bullet you had taken to the stomach a year ago.
His head filled with a mix of scenes of bliss and scenes of horror, both of which you were the star of. Either way, it kept his brain whirring enough to ward away sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, fast and screaming and disorienting with the thought of you.
You were barely fifty meters away from him right now, your own room merely on the other side of the corridor. He couldn’t believe he was imagining walking down to your room now, in the middle of the night with everyone else in their own rooms right down the hall. It was dumb and reckless and-
And the thought alone made him feel better.
The thought of your skin on his, your hands buried in his hair, and your mouth on his was like a forbidden salve to his irritation. Having you under him, so vibrant and alive, chased away all the scenes of you in danger that his mind seemed to love to conjure up these days.
Irrational thoughts plagued him now, too. What if something was wrong with you? What if you were hurt? Forget the fact that they were on a secure base or that he had seen you only hours earlier, it didn’t matter to Ghost’s brain in the dark like this. Though he logically knew that his thoughts were irrational figments of his overactive mind, his body didn’t seem to be getting the memo.
It was like he wasn’t convinced you were safe until he saw you himself. Until he felt the plush of your skin under his fingers.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, practically dumbfounded by his own decision, as he forcefully flung the covers from his body. He grabbed the balaclava from his nightstand, slipping the soft cloth over his face before throwing a random shirt over his bare torso.
The corridor was empty at this time of night, but Ghost stayed vigilant anyways. He crept toward your door, eyes on the other gray doors that housed the rest of the 141. He had never been this bold, this reckless, as to try to slip into your room when everyone was asleep in their own rooms right beside yours, usually limiting your nights together to when the other guys went out to a pub or split up to go on leave. If anyone caught him - your superior - slipping into your room in the middle of the night, there would surely be hell to pay. Yet, he couldn’t stop.
With one last look at the empty, monochrome hallway, he found the handle to your door and slipped soundlessly into your room.
Despite the fact that he had been quiet, you seemed to sense the intrusion. Your eyes snapping open, you pushed your top half up from the pillow, your body tense like you were ready for a fight. You leaned forward and flicked on the bedside lamp.
Your eyes landed on Ghost and he watched as you relaxed again, your sleep-heavy eyes softening as they held his gaze.
“Ghost…” you whispered, clearly as astounded by his presence in your room as he was.
Everything in him screamed that this was a bad idea. That he should go back to his room before he made any more bad decisions. But then you smiled at him, easy and warm and inviting. No bad decision could look like that.
“You okay?” You asked, voice light and laced with sleep. It was concern, though, that sat behind your words. Concern for him, genuine and raw.
Ghost felt something in him crack at that question. Something he knew he wouldn’t come back from.
With two quick strides across your room, he crossed that third line.
In the pale yellow light of the lamp, he pulled the balaclava from his head, letting the cloth fall to the floor. He was already climbing above you in the bed as your eyes snapped wide and you scanned his face for the first time, taking in his features above you. Him. You finally saw him.
Ghost’s breathing picked up as you lifted a hand to his cheek and ran a thumb over his cheek. He had wondered what you would look like if you ever saw him without the mask. Somehow, he had never never expected that you would look at him so tenderly. It seemed wrong that anyone could look at someone as cold and hardened as Ghost like this. But, fuck, it was doing things to him.
When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he slammed his lips into yours. You returned the kiss with a fire that made everything worth it. The blood. The explosions. The secrecy. The sleepless nights.
“Am now,” he mumbled against your lips. He couldn’t say anything else, he could only let the fire he had for you take over and burn everything left in him.
You melted into his affections, immediately grabbing onto his shoulders as he stripped your mouth bare. The little sounds you made spurred him on, making him feel better than he had the entire night. Forget sleep, he could live solely fueled by this.
Then, your hands slid up into his hair, tugging at the mask-flattened strands. A groan fell from Ghost’s lips as he started to fumble for the hem of your shirt, needing you freed from it immediately. He needed to feel you against him, as close as you possibly could be. Needed you wrapped around him in every possible way.
Need. Need. Need. It was a terrifying, unstoppable feeling.
As you both discarded your clothes, your hands desperately searching for skin, Ghost couldn’t help but think of how apt your nickname was. Styx. A mythological river, threatening to pull him under, the waters that he was drowning in also making him damn near invulnerable to all else in the world, save for his one spot of vulnerability. You.
The Styx was believed to be at the edge of the earth and the underworld, you had told him once. Being with you felt kind of like that, he supposed. Like he was at the edge of reality and the mythological. Something he never thought he would have compared to the reality of you underneath him.
Your lips wiped the fucked up worries from his mind, your hands grounding him in the raging current.
You let out a moan as Ghost slipped two fingers into you, trying to get you ready for him as quickly as possible tonight. He clamped a large hand over your mouth as he started to pump his fingers in and out.
“Keep quiet, love,” he purred into your ear, knowing exactly what his low, gravelly voice did to you. Your fingers came to clamp down on his shoulder in your desperation. “We don’t want any interruptions.”
You nodded, your eyes locking with his for a moment before they fluttered closed. He watched you like this, lost in bliss, and tried to commit the image to memory. He would store it away for another cold, lonely night when he couldn’t be here with you, when sleep evaded him.
He so desperately wanted to hear you - to hear the way he could make you scream out his name - but he knew it wasn’t possible right now. Your muffled groans and the way you tipped your head back as he curled his fingers into you would have to suffice.
“So wet for me, love,” he whispered into your ear as he increased his pace, feeling how close you were to the edge as your velvety walls fluttered around him. “Were you thinking about me?”
You jerked your head in a nod, his hand stifling another choked moan from your lips. The sincerity in your movement sent his ego soaring in a way he had never experienced before. Fucking hell, he had never experienced anything like this before. You had a frightening power over him, a grip on his very being that was so deep he didn’t think he could detach it and still survive.
It was terrifying and thrilling and oh-so wonderful.
You shattered under his touch, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you rode out the waves of pleasure he was bringing you. Your hand grasped at his forearm, searching for anything that could steady you.
When you came down and released him from your grip, your eyes fluttered back open. Through your haze, your eyes found his, a want deeper than just lust pouring from your expression. He couldn’t take it anymore. He fucking needed you.
Ghost tore his hand away from your mouth before he crashed his lips to yours again, all heat and fervor. You met him halfway, pushing up to run a hand through his hair. You had done this before in the dark, but it felt even more intense now that you knew what it looked like. What he looked like. You weren’t kissing a faceless man, you were kissing him.
“Simon…” you whined against his lips. “Please.”
Years ago, when you had first met, he wouldn’t have believed that he would ever hear you like this. Usually when you talked, your voice was strong. Unwavering. Fit for a battlefield. To hear you beg for him like this, your words strained, broken, and laced with desire, was something reverent.
He buried his cock in you in one smooth stroke, his lips still on yours. It was still a stretch to fit him, but it was always a stretch. From the very beginning his pace was brutal, his hips slamming into yours over and over. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise so he could hold you in place while he hit the spot deep inside you that always had you breaking for him. He knew he had found it when your legs boxed his hips in and your hips jerked up to meet his thrusts. Your heels rested on his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper into you.
You were squeezing him so tight as he pounded into your sweet cunt that for the first time all night, his head was clear. All that existed was you and the growing heat in his stomach.
Ghost dropped his head down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft, delicate flesh at the base of it as one of his hands released its hold on your hip to find your clit. He knew exactly what to do to send you over the edge again, exactly how hard to press, how tight of circles to draw.
“F-fuck, Simon, I’m g-gonna-” you stuttered out, unable to finish your own sentence. But he knew. He could feel how close you were, the tension drawn tight that was about to snap.
His own rhythm was growing sloppy, the pleasure about to take him under. With a few more calculated thrusts, you came once again, your whole body spasming around him. Your hands clawed at his back as your pussy squeezed him so hard it took him with you. A zap of electricity raced down his spine as he released into you, hot and thick. He fucked it into you, so deep he was sure you would still feel him at breakfast tomorrow morning.
He was so fucked. He had crossed every line and now there was no turning back. There was no stopping this anymore. He needed you. Maybe it was wrong to hope that you needed him just as much, but he did.
Ghost panted against your collar, letting the soft, methodical way you drew circles on his scalp pull him back to reality. Back to you.
He pulled out and rolled over onto the bed, pulling you with him. After taking a few minutes to clean you up, he pulled you to lay on top of him. With his arms around you and the feel of your steady breathing against his chest, sleep finally found him and pulled him under.
Synopsis: You're forced to face the tension between yourself and your Lieutenant.
Warnings: Cursing, mention of sexual harassment (vague), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex.
Your eyes were fixed on the road before you, watching the lines blur together under the glow of headlights. You stretched your legs out; being cramped in the tight space for hours made you restless. You'd been on edge; not just during the drive, or while entering foreign territory, but when your Lieutenant climbed into the driver's seat.
It was dark, well past midnight, and your eyelids began to flutter shut with the rhythm of tires on pavement. You sunk back into the seat, getting comfortable against the headrest. The silence was deafening, the cabin noise and soft breaths hardly saved you from the tension. If you slept, you wouldn't need to talk.
"L/N," Your Lieutenant's voice pulled you from the brink of sleep. "Stay awake."
You shifted upward, sighing as you looked over at him.
"Sorry, Sir," You said, your hand running over your eyes to wake yourself up.
"Y'tired?" He asked, his gaze shifting to yours briefly.
You nodded. "We've been driving for a while. Any idea when we'll be there?"
"Not long now," His short response was met with a nod, and you turned your head to look out the window at passing lights. "Another hour or two."
Yourself and the Lieutenant were headed toward Al Mazrah, at least a few hours behind the rest of 141. You were the last to be briefed, and they'd sent Soap, Gaz and Captain Price to gather intel before you arrived. They'd been in a convoy of SUVs carrying ammunition and rifles, ready to track down Hassan. It would be a while before anything concrete took place, but Price and Laswell always made sure every base was covered.
It was an uncomfortable situation- riding alone with your Lieutenant. You hadn't spent much one-on-one time with him, and you weren't sure if he expected you to talk or stay quiet. He was difficult to read.
His mysterious outward appearance only drew you to him, in a dangerous way. You frequently imagined what he looked like underneath the mask, if he was as well-built as your imagination made him out to be. The imagery was enticing, and maybe you flattered him a bit too much, but the bait was easy to take. His flippant regard for you made it even easier- you'd never been so motivated to be in someone's good graces.
You knew very well it was a violation of the code of conduct to engage in sexual or romantic relations with your superior. That didn't stop you from thinking of your Lieutenant in unsavoury ways, or positions, rather. The idea alone made your stomach flip- his calloused hands on your soft skin, his lips against your neck, lavishing your body with hungry kisses.
It was a twisted dose of karma, sitting side-by-side, trapped with the man you fantasized about. The man that was strictly off-limits. But you felt like you knew him, at least parts of him, the ones you saw when you watched him, and the fabricated images of his body. It was pure torture, and the more you tried to resist, the harder it became.
Ghost's hand gripped the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift. He was stoic, as usual, but his shoulders were stiff, knuckles white with tension, head nodding side to side with the movements of the vehicle.
"Are you tired?" You looked over, stepping over an unspoken line as you teased him.
You knew you were playing a risky game; you'd been working alongside 141 for close to a year, but Ghost was a locked vault. It was difficult having a conversation with him, ever since you'd arrived.
He wasn't a quiet man, you'd seen the way he interacted with Soap and Price, he only seemed to limit conversation with you specifically. Without coming on too strong, you made an effort to talk to him, hoping he'd warm up to you. Your attempts were futile, only met with one or two word answers and the harsh taste of rejection.
He looked over at you, no hint of expression in his eyes. "No," He shook his head. "'M gettin' sick of the scenery though."
"I can drive if you need to rest."
He looked at the dashboard, checking the time. "Be there soon, no need."
"Anything I can do to help you stay awake? Cold air? Loud music?" You quirked a brow up.
He shook his head again.
"I could sing?" You teased again, hearing him grumble.
"'M sure you'd put me right to sleep," He said, making you laugh.
"I've been told I have the voice of an angel, Lieutenant," You replied, with a soft hum of disbelief coming from him.
You turned your attention back to the road, satisfied with the interaction. It was a tiny glimpse into his actual personality.
"Think you're more the devilish type," He said suddenly, catching your attention.
Your eyes shifted to the side of his head. "Why's that?"
He was silent again, thinking his words over. You could see his eyes dart back and forth across the road ahead, looking around as if gathering a sentence.
His words had intrigued you. It was the usual ribbing you'd expect from your teammates, not your Lieutenant. You knew he was likely making a joke, likely not suggestive in any manner- but it reached your lower abdomen and sent tingles through your spine.
"I've seen you starin'," He said, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. "Like you're plottin' somethin'."
You felt your cheeks warm at being discovered and your only priority was to cover your tracks.
"Only trying to figure you out Loot, you're an enigma."
"What've you figured out so far?" He asked, a hint of interest in his tone.
You huffed, pursing your lips are you thought.
"You're not the quiet type, in fact, I think you're very chatty. Surprisingly selfless, mostly fearless."
He scoffed. "Mostly?"
"You seem to be scared of me," You answered, your eyes focusing on the side of his head.
He didn't reply, taking his time with your words, reflecting on whether he wanted to be honest, or brutally crush your feelings so he wouldn't have to speak of it again. As he looked at you, his eyes landing on your lips, then your eyes, he wondered if you really had figured him out, and hadn't even noticed. He couldn't resist the look in your eye, the shape of your lips, your smell even, and he debated whether telling you was a good idea- he knew once it started he wouldn't want to stop.
Of course, he was hesitant to say anything, the last thing he needed was to be discharged on account of a sexual harassment accusation. Though the way your body leaned toward his, eyes poring into his, an innocent expression of curiosity on your face, he was confident you were ready to hear the truth- maybe even eager.
"Ain't scared of anything. 'Specially not you. Restraint is more like it," He said, eyes locked on yours for a dangerously long time.
You were nearly dumbfounded, unsure how to respond to the revelation. The entire car ride was a cage match, locked in the tiny space with him until something came of it. A solution, clarification- anything. Maybe even rejection so you'd able to move on and scrub every nasty thought of him from your brain.
You lifted your eyes to him, lips parting in confusion.
"You have to restrain yourself around me?" Your eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't even know you saw me half the time," You laughed lightly.
"Think you do the same," He said. "You just ain't nearly as good at hidin' your wanderin' eyes."
You flushed again, this time, it went deep into your core. A flood of arousal working it's way into the depths of your womb, twisting and turning. You weren't sure whether you had deliberately chosen to stay silent, or if you were at a loss for words. Mustering some confidence, you knew you couldn't let the sliver of information slip from your grasp.
"You watch me, L.T.?"
His gaze met yours, no words following. You chose your next words carefully, but couldn't deny how badly you wanted to move things forward. As you scanned his face, your heart pounding in your chest, you knew it needed to be done, needed to be out in the open. You only hoped he'd be just as transparent with you.
"If I'd known that, I would've given you a show," You said, half-teasing, half-serious, and incredibly invested in where the conversation was headed. It was another line crossed- impossible to turn back.
"That so?" He quipped, intrigued. "Never too late."
You were suddenly aware of how very real it was- the risk of being caught, court-marshalled, discharged- it drove you to rebel even more. You'd never been a big fan of rules anyway. You wanted what you couldn't have, and the temptation was far too strong now to retreat.
"Is that what you want, Lieutenant?" You asked, unbuckling the seatbelt.
"Show me," He nodded, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back.
You sat up straight, your fingers reaching for the buttons on your jacket. Your eyes hadn't left him, intently staring, waiting for a reaction. He glanced over every few seconds, his eyes unreadable as he scoured your frame. You felt the scorch of lust, licking up your spine and engulfing you as your pussy began to seep with wetness.
Your mind was swimming with questions and fears, wondering if it was a mistake; if he hadn't truly meant it. But the anxiety in your gut was quickly replaced with desire, burning straight through you when his eyes met yours.
As you undid the bottom button, you pulled the jacket open, sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your bra, and Ghost had a difficult time keeping his eyes on the road.
"Easily distracted," You said, amused. "I'll add that to the list." You moved closer.
"Hard not to be," He shot back.
You leaned back against the seat, goosebumps covering your flesh when he looked over, eyes glued to your breasts, then up to your eyes.
"I'm waitin'," He urged, his free hand falling to your thigh. "Go on."
You shut your eyes, the first taste of intimacy was delicious, warming you inside and out.
You reached your fatigues, unbuttoning them slowly while his hand stroked your thigh. Sliding them down, you sat in your bra and panties on the cool leather seat.
His palm against your skin spread waves of shivers through you.
"Pretty little thing you are," He said, his fingers inching up toward your pussy. "Been waitin' for me to touch you, haven't you?"
You were shocked to hear him speak to you that way; never had you imagined you'd have Lieutenant Ghost calling you pretty, stroking your skin like you were made of glass. It aroused you to no end.
"Yes Sir," You nodded, your hand coming to rest over his as his fingertips ghosted your pussy.
He was infatuated with the sight of your body, your skin, the curves of your flesh, your breasts, thighs on display for him. It didn't take long for his cock to harden, and he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his chest rising and falling quickly. You noticed his disposition, and took it upon yourself to slide in closer.
"I'd like to please you," You said softly, your sweet voice emanating in his ear; it made his cock twitch. "Help keep you awake."
"Have at it, sweetheart."
You pressed your body against his shoulder. The feeling made you shudder, impatience coursing through you, adrenaline-fuelled confidence overriding any doubts. His grip on the steering wheel tightened when your hand grazed his thigh, a trail of warmth left behind as you eased upward, toward the belt of his fatigues.
"Bloody hell," He muttered, his head snapping to look at you as you wrenched his belt open, snaking your hand into his pants to feel him over his briefs.
He sounded tense, like he desperately needed relief. His voice was hoarse, jugular pounding against his neck as his heart raced. You leaned forward, feeling his pulse on your soft lips, taking the opportunity to slide beneath his briefs and take his cock in your hand. He let out a shaky exhale, though his demeanour hadn't changed.
You licked a stripe up your palm, adding lubrication to better massage him. He grunted when you teased the tip of his cock, your thumb rubbing soft circles over it. You ended his torture relatively quickly, you yourself unable to resist the sounds he made when your hand ran up and down his cock.
"Tha's' it," He mumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut before snapping open to watch his driving.
"Tell me how you like it, Sir," You whispered, your voice welcoming and warm against his covered ear.
"Just like that, sweetheart."
You smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, squeezing your palm firmly around him while your wrist twisted.
He lifted one hand off the steering wheel, welcoming you under his arm as you leaned down to wrap your lips over the head of his cock. You hollowed your cheeks, applying suction as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue sliding back and forth on the underside of his cock. He was big, uncomfortably large, stretching your lips and causing an ache in your jaw, but you wouldn't relent.
"Fuuuuckin' hell," He slurred.
It had been a long time since he'd slept with anyone. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want it. He was completely satisfied with his vow of celibacy; not having to explain anything to potential partners, only answering to himself, no tearful goodbyes or leaving someone alone if he were K.I.A. He had it perfected, until he laid his eyes on you.
He knew almost immediately that he'd drop to his knees for you, worship every inch of your body if you let him. But his rational brain knew better, knew that a relationship of any kind between a C.O. and his private was bound to end in fiery wreckage. It seemed, however, that he wasn't up to the challenge of resisting you, especially not now, with your lips wrapped around his cock.
"Atta girl," He grunted.
You could hear the low grunts and rumbles of approval from his chest, his hips bucking against your mouth as you bobbed up and down his cock. You felt the vehicle sway a bit, then felt his hand reach down to gather your hair, pulling just enough to make you moan with pleasure.
Saliva dropped from your mouth down his cock, accidental slurps slipping from you as you struggled to keep a quick pace. It was messy, rough, invigorating, as you imagined him restraining himself, trying his best to keep the vehicle centred.
He growled when you took him to the back of your throat, closing it around his cock. Lifting your head, you gulped in air, tear stains on your cheeks, swollen lips.
You didn't waste another second diving back down, wrapping your hand around his cock as your mouth focused all your attention on the engorged tip. You smoothed your tongue over the ridges and veins, moaning softly when he exhaled sharply.
Suddenly, you felt the SUV come to a halt, and Ghost threw it in park. Sitting up, your eyes scanned your surroundings. A side road, unencumbered by lights or traffic.
"Lie back," He said, taking off his seatbelt. "Will y'let me eat this pretty cunt? Been dyin' to taste you."
You exhaled sharply, his words dripping like honey, sweet and slow, enshrouding you in warmth.
You nodded, "Yes, Sir."
His hand gripped your waist, guiding you into position, leaning back against the door while he moved your legs into his shoulders. He slipped his mask up over his nose, and your eyes flew to his lips- moist, pink, almost raw with how hard he'd been biting to keep quiet. His jawline was covered with stubble, you were antsy to feel the prickly skin against yours.
His hands dipped down to your thighs, gripping the supple flesh, large enough to hold the circumference of them. He gave a gentle squeeze- reassurance- and you felt his breath fan over your pussy.
His finger hooked into the seat of your panties, tugging them aside. You watched with bated breath, distracted by the way his eyes never left yours as he neared your pussy.
"Suckin' my cock make you this wet, sweetheart?" He asked, an inflection of mockery in his tone.
"Yes," You breathed out, your pussy flinching expectantly with every gust of warm air against you.
"Jesus," He mumbled.
You sighed with content, relaxing into his hold when you finally felt his silky tongue slide between your folds, making contact with your clit. You flinched, but his iron grip held you still under his ministrations.
Your hands reached out to grip his mask, digging into his hair to release even a small amount of pent up frustration.
He was relentless, licking and sucking at your clit fervidly, unabashed. He devoured your pussy, unafraid to make a mess of himself. He grunted with approval at the taste of you and his hands couldn't stop from massaging the malleable flesh of your thighs, spreading your pussy for easier access.
"Yes, Sir," You whimpered, voice cracking at the awkward angle and pleasure rendering you unintelligible. "Please- right there."
He hummed, "I like hearin' you beg."
Your soft exhales turned to whines. The sounds of your pussy were amplified in the cabin, only adding to the arousal pooling in your womb.
"Knew you'd taste fuckin' divine," He whispered against you, and you shivered.
You arched your back, silently begging him to continue massaging your clit with his tongue, and he surprised you with two fingers, sliding inside you with ease.
"Tight fuckin' cunt you have," He grunted, flexing his fingers inside you.
He curled his fingers, his tongue running back and forth over your clit, and your thighs began to shake. Your toes curled over his shoulders, your pussy clenching down as your orgasm neared.
He felt the way you hugged his fingers, and huffed softly against you. Enveloping your clit in his mouth, he sucked gently, his fingers matching the pace. You felt your abdomen tighten, before your climax took over; your eyes falling closed, mouth wide as you let out a strangled moan.
"Tha's it," He whispered, coaxing your orgasm from you and prolonging it with the flick of his tongue and fingers.
You shivered, hitting plateaus of pleasure as you came down from your high, exhaling harshly when his tongue grazed your sensitive clit.
He sat up, his hands grabbing your waist as he shifted his seat further back, practically lifting you over to his lap.
You settled yourself over his thighs, feeling his cock nestled between your folds. You couldn't help but grind your hips over him, and he lurched forward to grab the back of your neck. His hands tugged you in to press his lips against yours, his tongue finding purchase in your mouth.
He swallowed the soft, breathless moans that escaped your throat, your pussy flinching every time his cock nudged your clit. His lips were soft- softer than you'd expected them to be- and it made you melt in his arms. You drew your arms around his shoulders, your hands digging into the flesh of his neck, locking him in position as you kissed.
He grunted into your mouth, the feeling of your slick core grinding over him was making him impatient.
"Stop teasin'," He scolded, his hand reaching back to grip your ass, stopping your hips from rolling forward. "Can't wait much longer."
You shivered, keeping eye contact as you perched forward, helping him to position his cock at your entrance. Your lips parted with a gasp as he slid inside you, stretching your pussy. His fingers dug into your flesh, a sharp exhale leaving his lips.
"Shit," He choked. "Y'feel like fuckin' heaven, sweetheart."
You felt a surge of pride, before it was shattered with just how much you whimpered while sliding down his length. You sat still for a moment, letting yourself adjust to the intrusion, taking a deep breath. You moved forward, and his vice-like grip helped you grind your hips against his.
You fell into his chest, your arms still clinging to his shoulders, your breasts brushing against his vest. He watched you with an intense stare, mesmerized by the way you reacted to his cock deep inside you.
"Fuckin' hell," He growled.
You continued to ride his lap, thighs and ass flexing as you pushed forward, your hands gripping his vest for leverage. He reached down, using his thumb to rub over your clit. You moaned aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as you focused on the impending orgasm building in your gut.
He relished the way you moaned, softly spoke his callsign, Sir, whimpered, nearly cried as he overstimulated you. He leaned forward, lavishing your throat with hungry kisses, traces of teeth and tongue mixing with his lips. It was too much, or maybe just enough- you were so numb with pleasure it was hard to tell.
"God," You cried, your fingers reaching into his hair beneath his balaclava.
"Tell me how good this cock feels, buried in you."
"So good- so fucking deep," You whined.
"Christ," Another groan as your pussy clenched around him. "Y'look good on my cock."
His vulgar words pushed you even closer to the edge, panting as you chased your orgasm. A part of you had yet to come to terms with the fact that you were fucking your Lieutenant, the other didn't care much what his rank was. His cock was nuzzled against your G-spot, his raspy voice whispering words of encouragement- he was only Ghost, and the repercussions had all but left your mind.
"Keep talking like that, please, Sir," You whimpered, your voice breaking.
He hummed in response. "Fuck," A gust of air from his nose as he struggled to keep his composure while your pussy hugged him tightly. "You just keep ridin' my cock. Make yourself cum."
"Yes, Sir."
"Think you get off on callin' me Sir," He paused between strangled breaths. "And bein' told what to do."
You nodded. "Yes, Sir."
His hand moved to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh. His fingers traced over your nipples, goosebumps erupting across your body. He pinched them softly, and you let out a whimper.
"Then be a good girl and cum for me," He said, watching as you bounced on his cock.
"I'm so close," Your voice broke.
His thumb hadn't relented, and the added stimulation made it even easier to unfold. Your hand reached out, slamming against the window to brace yourself when your body went rigid. Your pussy clenched one last time before you squeezed your eyes shut, writhing in his grip as ecstasy lit up every nerve in your body. You tried to hold it back, tried to hold out a bit longer, but he played your body so well it almost broke you.
"Shit!" You cried, your head falling forward to his.
You gasped for air through your muscles contracting, your orgasm enveloping your entire body. He breathed out, his cock twitching when your pussy clenched around him. His fingers were bruising your waist and hip, holding onto you firmly like you'd vanish if he didn't.
He choked on his words, a sharp gasp from the back of his throat as the silken muscles of your pussy flexed around his cock.
You bucked your hips, extending the longevity of your orgasm while he watched with intrigue, pride swelling with how well he could unravel you.
"Not long now, pussy is too good," He said, his voice strangled and tight.
You were still suffering the after-effects of your orgasm, sweat lining your forehead, relaxing into his hold on your body. You pushed yourself to continue, wanting so badly to feel him release inside you.
"Cum in me," You whispered.
He didn't give it a second thought, though he should've, but your body against his, the doughy feel of your pussy- he almost didn't have a choice. His breathing faltered as he bucked his hips up into yours. He grunted softly, your waist already sore with his heavy touch, keeping you in place as he came in you.
The air was still for a moment, both of you catching your breath while still reeling from your orgasm. You quickly collected yourself, sliding off of him to ease back into the passenger seat.
"Here," He said, handing you a rag from his vest.
"Thanks," You muttered.
You quickly cleaned up and dressed yourself as he turned the car off the side road and toward the destination. You let out a soft sigh, feeling more tired than before. Your head landed against the window.
"You alright?" He asked, looking over at you.
You nodded, "Tired."
"Be there soon. We can pick this up later."
A sly smile crossed your lips. "You're not going to hold back on me again, are you?"
His eyes met yours with a chilling stare. He'd had his first fix, and he knew now there was no end in sight- he was addicted.
Tags // 18+ ONLY, AFAB reader, soft simon riley, written from simon’s perspective, mild descriptions of injury and blood, hurt and comfort, aka simon finally allows himself to be looked after <3, he is a big boy with a heart that yearns to be loved you cannot convince me otherwise, the softest of smut, praise, you accidentally give ghost a 'sir’ kink, reader calls ghost sir a couple of times because they’re hot like that, unprotected sex (tut tut), creampie, a whole lot of swearing
AN // i love this man a ridiculous amount, so me writing nearly 5k about how much i love him was inevitable
AO3 link here
Simon Riley is not a man who cares about his own health. In fact, his wellbeing never has, and never will be a priority to him. He has work to do, gruelling, gritty, gruesome work, it is beyond pointless wasting time even thinking about when he last had more than 3 hours sleep, or how long it’s been since he consumed anything other than cold military rations. In his defence, he’s never really had a reason to give a shit, he sees the hourglass whenever he allows himself to close his eyes; watches the sand slip rapidly through the cracks, counting down until his inevitable, most likely painful death. He’s living life on a timer, and he’s never had a reason to change that.
