Celi

The Dostoyevsky effect .

[celseph]

Nemesis {Ghost x fem reader}

Never in his life had he felt so disappointed. With a snarl, Ghost finished himself. And god was he so desperate for more, more of you, more of this.

The supply room door clicked shut behind, leaving him alone in the dimly lit space, heart pounding, and desire burning in his veins. He leaned back against the shelves, taking a moment to catch his breath and process what had just happened.

You had surely, and most effortlessly surprised him, surprised Ghost himself.

He couldn't resist your allure, those soft lips pressed against his, your fingers tracing the contours of his body. The chemistry between the both of you had been electric, a passion, both had been denying for far too long.

 But then, just as things had reached their peak, you had abruptly pulled away, leaving him aching for more.

Though Ghost couldn't stay in the supply room forever. Eventually, he straightened himself and adjusted his disheveled clothing. With a sense of determination, he stepped out of the supply room and back into the bustling hall. 

Ghost walked into your office, standing at the doorway, his eyes met yours as you lifted your gaze from the paperwork. Your eyes held a mix of desire and apprehension.

“You can't leave things unfinished like that, {Y/n}”

 he spoke with a hint of aggression, a glimpse of desperation that he tried to hide. He was sick of following you everywhere, but god was it anticipating.

“Why is that, Lieutenant?” 

You stand and walk to the side of the desk. Your tone dripped with tease, and he could swear you were doing it on purpose. The tormenting and leading him on just to give him nothing.

“Come on, answer me.” 

You repeat and lean against the table, facing him as he looks at you, his eyes flare with pent-up longing.

“For fucks sake, never have I needed something so bad, someone, so bad.”

 He confessed once more, his voice quivering with raw desire. It was draining, though he liked it, he liked draining himself, especially when you were the reason. Especially when you took part in it.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?” 

You chuckle, Ghost feels targeted, and as much as he tries to seem unfazed he just can’t ignore it. 

“So? God, won't you get it in your little mind?”

 He utters and takes a step forward. Closing the door behind him as he looks at the ground trying to regain the composure that was being drained out with each passing second. 

“If I were to confess everything I want to do to you, you would be getting a restraining order against me.” 

Ghost snarled and looked back at you, this time taking a few more steps towards your direction. This is an act that makes you shift in place and gulp. A gulp that brings down any teasing words you were about to let slip, once again.

“I think you remember confessing that you bluntly broke into my dorm and spread my legs as I was sleeping right? I would have left, just at that moment, but I didn't.”

 That was right, it's scary how he could touch you like that, run his fingers across your thigh and you wouldn’t feel a thing. 

“Well I left with my dick hard, does that make me respectful enough for you?”

 He takes a few more steps forward, now standing just a tad bit in your personal space. A shiver lurked down your spine, clawing at your inner skin and tingling your bones.

“Is that when your imagination took ahead, is that when you drew me fucking fingering myself Ghost?” 

You mumble and look up at him. The atmosphere crackled with electricity as you and Ghost stood there, the pull between you undeniable. It was a moment suspended in time, and you both knew that whatever happened next, it would be impossible to turn back.

“Yes, yes that’s right.” 

He nods, licking his teeth under his lip. That image was always at the back of his head, remembering itself at the worst times.

“You have no idea…” 

he whispered and took in a sharp inhale. Ghost’s thumb tracing your lips, his own desire blazing in his eyes.

You look back at him, slowly leaning forward.

He slyly slides his hands to your waist, lifting you over the table. Your feet reach to touch the ground with the tips but fail.

His eyes glance at the candles on your table, conveniently placed in a small wooden pen holder. That is when he got an idea.

“You want that view Simon?” 

you ask, his gaze shifts back to you almost immediately. 

There it was, that effect, your effect. And seemingly, you didn't yet know what you were capable of doing with that power.

How you knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

“Well fuck {Y/n}”

He takes a grip on your thighs, you let him.

He guides them apart, and you let him.

He goes between them, and you once again, let him.

No idea why, you just let it happen.

“How about..” 

Ghost took one of the candles and held it in front of you.

“What are you getting at?” 

You raise an eyebrow and look at the candle. Whatever he had in mind, you most definitely knew it would be something out of pocket, and yet it anticipated you. 

The leering idea felt hostile, and your mind immediately went to something.

Temperature play.

“This wax would look so pretty on your skin,” 

he utters and leans closer to you, his mask the only thing preventing you from kissing.

“You don’t say..”

You reply, Ghost slides his hands beneath his mask, lifting it to the bridge of his nose. 

His face gets eerily close to your neck, and his shallow breath tingles down your skin.

His hands ran down to your waist and to your pants, where he fumbled with the buttons. Sets them loose, and pulls them down.

 Just lifting you up to slide them beneath you, and then, off.

With your pants hanging beneath your knees, you stare into his pupils, those dark brown eyes. 

Those same fucking eyes that had you in chains.

Ghost had a fine line between a macabre psychotic gaze, and a magnetic pull of eerie and attraction.

His middle finger lingers under the side of your panties, teasingly pulling it sideways and letting it go with a soft hit against your skin.

Tight.

He has a way with his hands, puts the candle between his teeth, furrows his eyebrows, and looks down at himself. Seemingly starting to search his pockets for something.

The something, the twisted thing within him. The uncanny and dark aura that glazed his contours. 

He raised his eyebrows when he finally found what he was searching for, 

A lighter.

A plain black lighter, with just a white contouring of what seemed like a skull on it.

His eyes glance back up at you, as much as he would try giving you puppy eyes the lethal flare wouldn’t allow it.

“Tell me exactly what you have in mind, Lieutenant.” 

You hinted, that despite the things you could already be thinking of, you wanted him to say it.

“I'll tell you exactly what I have in mind.

 Ghost takes the candle in his hands, looking at you with an intense desire before he continues.

I want to see if you can finish yourself before the wax starts melting off.”

Fucking god.

How could someone so stern, be so leering? So persuasive?

“And what if I don't?” 

You utter and look at the candle in his hands.

His lip curls into a wicked smile, a mischievous one. He bites his lower lip before responding, 

“I'm going to pour the melting wax on you”

You exhale, a sharp hitch in your breath. His mind was fascinating, filthy but cold and brilliant. If this doesn't terrify you, even just a little, then what’s the point?

You look at him, peeringly and purposely as if to ask him if he was serious or not.

“Anticipating..”

 You whisper and look down at his hands, resting on your thighs with the candle in one hand and the lighter in the other.

Motherfucker. 

You wanted to say that to him, to call him that for arousing you. And for what reason? Hell, and regardless of the reasons, and the purposes, the intentions of this you wanted it. You wanted that with him.

“I'm guessing you want those off. Allow me?”

Ghost snickers, he knows. He knows damn well that idea anticipated you, that idea made your breath hitch and your stomach twist. Make your limbs weak, make your legs spread and your two fingers trace down on yourself.

You nod, and his hands run down your spine, reaching for your underwear, and with a slow pace, he slides them off as well.

He looks down at you and clenches his jaw, oh how he’d like to pound you senseless. To fuck your brains out and twist your body inside out. 

“You’re allowed to start only after I light this.” 

Ghost lights the candle and places it beside you on the wooden surface of the table.

His forearm goes under your knees, you lean back on the desk and place one palm behind you for balance.

His hands are placed conveniently on the desk, your knees resting on his forearms, spread wide open. 

Your clit dripping with desire, with a deep breath, your fingers guide themselves down your waist, and hips, and eventually, two fingers scissor your clit. 

You slide your fingers in with ease. 

The candle string burns over the tip, releasing the smell of burning cotton, and filling your throat.  

Your middle and ring finger thrust back and forth, intensely increasing their pace. Ghost watches, his crotch straining against his pants like never before. Seeing what he had been imagining, longing for what seemed like ages was finally in front of him.

Ready to be stretched open and fucked into bliss, into pure ecstasy. Ready to take him in. Though he had to be patient, 

“Slow down…” 

He uttered, you obeyed. Your fingers immediately responded to his demand and decreased their pace. It wasn’t the fact that you were fingering yourself that made you so worked up, so breathless and weak. It was his presence, what he was making you do, what he was about to do, and what this was doing to him as well.

You could tell he was getting aroused, he was losing it at the sight. But Ghost was confident that you'd come immediately if he replaced your fingers with his own. The desire to pour that candle wax on your skin was overthrowing that desire. 

You lifted your eyes to look at him, and his eyes met yours. If you looked at him for too long, you would finish, so you looked away.

Ghost’s eyes shifted to the candle every 5 seconds, impatiently looking to spot the first drop of melting wax form and drip down. 

Your breathing became audible, and just then, the candle's flame slowly began to melt the top layer of wax, transforming it into a glistening pool of liquid.

The room is filled with a sense of wonder and possibility as you both know the significance of this moment. 

“Stop, {Y/n}.”

 He orders, and you take in a sharp inhale. 

“Would you look at that?”

 He unwraps his hand from your thigh and takes the candle in his hand, his eyes focused on the drop of wax, forming, and dripping down the candle. 

Fuck.

Ghost wraps his fingers around your wrist, and pulls your hand away. 

Fascinating way to edge.

“You think I wouldn't realize? That you didn't finish on purpose?” 

 He chuckles and runs his hand up your shirt, slowly rolling it up to expose your waist. His gloved fingers glide down your stomach and your hips. 

“I wasn't trying to hide it.”

You stare at him through eyebrows. 

He could read you too well, and he knew you wanted this. He knew it intrigued you. You place both your palms on the desk behind you and lean back, inviting him. As you lean back, he inches closer and closer. Magnetic,

that's what he labeled you as. 

His fingers trace down your belly, stopping right at your lower abdomen. Just pressing down a tad bit. 

He places the tip of his glove between his own thigh and the edge of the table, sliding his hand out of it. And almost immediately, his hand traces down your clit. Palming and sliding two fingers in.

“Fuck…”

He groans, and just unexpectedly, he tilts the candle near your skin, where flames almost severely burn you. The wax drop lingers over the edge for a few seconds and then falls on your stomach.

A loud gasp, followed by a whimper.

The liquid drips slowly down your skin, it burns, it traces a feel of hot frizz along your skin as it finds its own way down your skin. 

Ghost motions his fingers in you, edging and stimulating. It hurt, so good. Hurt and burnt, though in some way it aroused you. 

Damn him.

Simon Ghost Riley, yes, damn him for twisting your desires this way, speaking of that. The wax continued its way down your lower abdomen. Your whimpers turned into moans, as he went deeper with his fingers. The sight made your stomach tangle. The single drop of liquid leaves a red trail on its way down your waist and between your legs. Slowly splitting into two drops forming an oval and circling between your legs. Until it found its way down to the table. 

As his fingers move back and forth, his thumb presses down on your clit. Provocation, pure teasing.

Your insides were heating up, and drops of sweat trickled down your forehead. 

Just another drop of burning wax poured down on your skin, causing another noise to escape your throat. Unsure what it was, a moan or a whimper? Perhaps a whine for mercy? 

Your stomach was drawn red lines onto, lines that resembled lust, pain, and pleasure. Lines that contoured the twisted little connection this man had pulled you into. The mixed feel of getting closer to bliss, and the impassive desire. 

Your skin felt languid and numb, so you could only focus on the feelings going on inside you. The heat and moisture crawling out of the pores of your flesh and sticking to Ghost’s fingers pleasantly. The wax mixed with arousal on the way traced around your groin.

This situation, 

One hand was bringing you pain, and the other pleasure. How ironic. Was this his way of toying? He had a resistance that was undeniable. However, seeing you shed tears and moan at the same time. You hated him, god you hated him so much. Though the desire, the urge to hate fuck him was also, undeniable. 

There he was, making you moan and squirm. Making you gasp and shake. Spreading your legs and fingering you. Giving you pain and pleasure at the same time. 

“You may have beat me in that fight, but you can’t bet me in this fight {Y/n}” 

Motherfucker.

[celseph]

Restraintless (König x Fem reader)

You awoke with a jolt and brushed your feet against the soft mattress of the bed. The harsh reality of the situation washed over like a frigid wave. Your wrists ached, and your heart raced as you realized you were strained by chains, anchored to rusted metal. 

Each chain is bound to the sides of the bed.

Dressed in underwear and a loose shirt, the red covers swirled around your thigh and up. 

Panic clawed your chest as you scanned the barely lit room, finally settling on the menacing figure seated on a chair in front of you.

König, god who else could it even be?

His shirt was off, sat in a wooden chair with his army pants and sniper hood still on. A sharp knife in hand, holding it by the handle with his fingers as the tip of the blade carved into the armrest.

Swallowing hard, you tried to muster some semblance of courage. 

"This... This is all some sick obsession, isn't it?" 

You stammered, your voice trembling with fear. 

"You can't actually hurt me, no matter how much you want to."  Regret washed over you like a tidal wave. You had been foolish, pushing boundaries and taunting him in a reckless game of provocation. 

Now, the repercussions of those actions were horrifyingly clear. You had underestimated his obsession, the lengths he was willing to go to.

Thou, you had developed complicated feelings for him, a twisted mixture of fascination and affection. You couldn't deny that a part of you loved him, but it was a love tainted by fear.

König chuckled, “Hurt you? No, liebe, that is not my intention.” He spoke in an affectionate tone. However, the twisted obsession and longing were lurking under, capturing the meaning of his own words.

You found yourself caught in a surreal and terrifying predicament, a prisoner to your own desires and the enigmatic man who had become your darkest fascination.

König slowly sat up. 

The knife in his hands swung back and forth as he approached the bed you were bound in. Unable to move, though even if you could, you still wouldn't

His stare was ravishing, like an animal stalking its prey. That prey is naive enough to provoke its predator.

“You won’t break me, I’m not giving you the satisfaction” you utter, your heavy breathing just as audible as those words.

König, though, kept silent.

Deafening silence.

As he drew closer, the knife in his hand swayed ominously. 

"Break you? Oh, liebe, you've already broken. You broke the moment you realized you do love me."

Those words sent shivers down your spine, causing your breath to hitch. Looking at him through your brows, you tilt your head away. You wanted to cry and get a restraining order against him after he lets you go. If that would ever happen.

Although doing that made your stomach twist, not like it would stop him anyway. But what if it did?

A part of you wanted to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of breaking your spirit. But another part, the darker part, whispered that maybe this was what you secretly craved all along.

“Satisfaction isn't enough, {Y/n}, I want more. I seek for more than just the satisfaction.” he hissed. The vulnerability though, was willingly unhid.

“What do you want from me then?” your voice was wobbly, this was a nightmare. Your eyes locked with his.

The love you felt for him, twisted and tainted, battled with your overwhelming fear.

“I want you, all of you. I want it all for myself.” As selfish as it sounded, it was true. He had accepted this dark side of himself, and the way his mind worked when it came to you.

König placed his knees on the bed, the red covers shifting around him. He crawled closer, the grip on the knife was unyielding.

The man you both loved and feared was about to push the boundaries of your desires and plunge you deeper into an ordeal you could never have imagined.

With deliberate care, he approached you, his bare hands reaching under your knees to gently place your legs over his own thighs. Your body tensed, caught between a fight-or-flight response and the unsettling pull of desire.

You tried to resist, your mind screaming at you to escape this horrifying situation. But your body, betraying your will, seemed to respond to the closeness of the person who had both terrified and captivated you.

Your hips sway further, like a magnet that pulls you closer until your bodies intertwine.

His fingers run under your shirt, a soft caress.

“Why? Why like this?” You whisper, he had a stare so captivating, one that could make you allow him to do whatever he desired.

“This way, you can be truly mine. Nobody else would ever come close to the way I have you.”

König places his palms on the bed, right under your armpits. 

Your hips were pressed together, and you could feel his crotch pressing against you, with a desire that could burn holes through fear, and scatter it into ashes.

“Don't fight it, Maus. This is what you've always wanted deep down, isn't it? To be truly possessed by me. 

Tell me, tell me you want this liebe. I want the consent.”

 Love, fear, desire, and dread all swirled together in a chaotic storm, leaving you helpless and uncertain of what would come next in this twisted dance of obsession and control.

You just wanted to lift that sniper hood and kiss him. Were you insane? Or was this just the way love worked?

 “Please, yes.” The fear disappears with those words. He had never done anything to make you feel unsafe. Or tormented, the void of love and obsession just swirled you in and drowsed you to bits.

Your thighs squeezed his waist. The knife in his hand trails down your shirt and to your belly, where he lifts it. 

Your head moves dangerously closer to his, reaching with desperation.

He places one hand behind your head, cautiously running his hand through your hair.

You take the hem of the sniper hood between your teeth, and he purposely moves his head down to help you place it over the bridge of his nose. 

As you do so, he lifts his gaze and his eyes meet yours for a split second, before pulling you in for a desperate and aggressive kiss.

Your lips press against his, as your hips press against his. The knife in his hand makes its way to the side of your underwear, slicing the material apart.

With a faint moan, you squirm under his touch, your body yearning for him.

He brushes his lips across your neck while shifting the knife in his hands.

He holds the knife cautiously by the blade, the handle sliding further under your hips. You gasp as the realization of what he’s about to do hits. 

König places the handle right in front of your slit. His hand slides to your hips. 

“Colonel, you wouldn't use that on me, would you?” You utter as your fingers twitch.

The thought of knife play never really crossed your mind.

 Being fucked by a knife handle, and the person pushing it in and out of you would be Konig.

This man was full of surprises, ones that you never thought would anticipate you.

“I want to make you cum, using a knife handle {Y/n}, allow me?” a hot whisper hit your neck.

“Fuck.” You exhale with desperation. 

You nod with approval.

König inhales and pushes the blade handle in you, You arch with a faint moan. He holds your hips with a tight grip as he moves the knife towards himself again. 

“Oh, god… ah” You whimper as your wrists struggle against the cuffs.

“So good, so mine.” He groans as his bulge almost tears through his pants.

The hem of the blade slides in and out of you, the pace increasing to his liking. Your moans get louder and the desperation takes over every inch of your body.

He slams the handle fully in you, holding your hips tight as your legs are spread on his sides.

A sickly sweet poison that coursed through your veins, compelling you to surrender to his desires even as your instincts screamed for more.

This was further than every dark fantasy of yours, the lust was too much to handle for both him and you.

“I want every thought of yours, every moment to revolve around me. I want everything about you to belong to me only” he snarled unapologetically as you felt closer to the edge and ready to jump down the cliff of submission and bliss for him.

The twisted love that bound them had ensnared your being, rendering you powerless in the face of his relentless obsession.

“Come for me, Maus” He ordered. His pace gradually increased, the sounds of the hard handle hitting your skin, and your gasps and moans filled the room.

Eventually, you had to let go, and so with a desperate squirm, you finish. The situation had gotten you messy, with hair strands all over your face, red cheeks, and lips dripping with saliva. Bit of König’s aswell.

He cautiously brushed the hair out of your face and kissed your cheek. 

You could feel his warmth against your skin, and your body reacted despite your inner turmoil. A surge of arousal mingled with obsession and desire, creating a bizarre cocktail of emotions you couldn't escape.

As he drew closer still, the room seemed to blur, and you were left with the undeniable truth that your fate was now in his hands, a captive in a twisted cage of love.

The room seemed to close in around them, as they became lost in a world of their own making. A world where love and fear intertwined, where obsession knew no limits, and where you were irrevocably his.

You were claimed, not just physically but emotionally, by the man who had become your dark obsession.

The love for König was an undeniable paradox, born out of fear and desire, and it had led to this chilling moment.

 “You're mine, {Y/n}, always were. And always will,” he uttered as his face buried in your neck.

[celseph]

Nemesis {Pt.1 & 2}

“Get out”

He mouthed, back faced towards you and his head subtly tilted just enough to the right, granting you the opportunity to glimpse at his side profile.

Ghost was handsome, there was no denying it. But you’d deny it anyway since the rivalry made it impossible to keep things real.

You quietly pulled the door shut, as if what you had just witnessed was foreboden. Instead of nagging him, you just left.

The locker room wasn’t his private space to begin with. And it happened to be a coincidence that you walked in just as he took off his balaclava.

There was no reason for you two to hate each other, not in the slightest. However, it was crucial. The silent competitions over everything were feeding your hate towards one another.

Though that is what you believed was the case.

Perhaps it was envy, masked by loathing, that willed you to become a better soldier, there’s that.

Giving and receiving death glares and eye rolls from Ghost had become a habit and a daily routine. Debating over the most insignificant things in a foul manner as well. He would always either leave or have the most unpleasant look on his face when you entered the room.

He absolutely despised you.

Disagreeing with your opinions about practically everything.

And you didn’t let his words fall on deaf ears. Both of your rock-hard heads refused to let the other have the last word.

Seeing his face was the last kind of interaction you expected to have. That day, his image haunted you relentlessly.

And the following day, both of you chose silence as your refuge. It was an unspoken agreement not to mention the subject. Fate, however, had other plans.

The arranged hand-to-hand combat training between soldiers included a duel between you and your sworn nemesis in just 24 hours. That was going to be the peak of your rivalry, deciding which one was the better soldier.

The training ended, and frankly this time there were no conflicts with Ghost. You were positive he felt awkward after what had happened. However, it never coincides with you why that is.

You were sitting on the benches, legs crossed as your foot twitched. The lone ambient was getting to you and thoughts took over. Until a finger tapped on your shoulder.

Price, glancing down at you. His hands were occupied, holding a brown box.

“{Y/N}, do me a favor, and send these supplies to Ghost.”

What could go wrong?

You find yourself walking through the halls, looking to spot Ghost’s dorm with the box in hand.

Your eyes linger across the doors until they stop at one number.

Number 35.

And unexpectedly, the door was creaked open. Feeling your eyebrows furrow, you step right in front of the entrance. Irresponsible fuck, he had left the door unlocked, and slightly open as well. You knew it was wrong, however…

You pressed the tips of your fingers against it and slowly peeked inside.

The sound of rattling water drops and the shower running brought goosebumps down your skin. You had time. Well, a bit of exploring wasn’t gonna do any bad, right?

Invading Ghost’s privacy felt ribby. Although you weren’t looking to go far with it.

Quietly setting the box down on a counter, you wander into his room. It’s dark, and you are far too distracted to turn the light on. Plus the risk of forgetting it, and having Ghost suspect anything wasn’t worth it.

The environment was serene, the sound of water running was the only thing breaking the silence. Ghost was modest, you could tell. A minimalist that kept his place spotless and smelling like heavy deodorant.

You took notice of a black scrivany table. A small light was placed on top of it, the yellow tint was calming to the eye. Taking small footsteps towards it, studying the contents of the drawer connected to it. There was one half-open, a notebook sticking out of it.

You moved with grace toward the drawer, like a cat stalking her prey. Every footfall, a whisper against the hardwood floor.

Quietly With trembling hands, you eased the drawer open, willingly wanting to reveal the journal’s secrets one page at a time. As your curiosity was your sole and only companion, daringly so, you breach the notebook open.

Within the delicate pages, you uncovered a revelation that surpassed boundaries. It was a revelation that overwhelmed your senses and still renders you powerless.

The notebook bore witness to a passion, where your being had been captured in a series of intimate and intensely sensual drawings, with a desire that dared not speak its name.

The scribbles with black ink showed how confidently he had drawn these sketches. Overlapping the outlines of your physique and filling the entire page with aight to Ghost’s passionate ‘obsession’.

Each stroke of the pencil, each careful shading, spoke of a desire that had been well-hidden, at least until now.

You stood transfixed, not from fear. But from shock by your outrageous discovery of his desire.

Legs spread apart, dripping wet with two fingers scissoring your slit. Though one particular detail caught your eye. Making your breath catch in your throat, your stomach twists and turns upside down. A mole, far between your thighs. There was no way he possibly could have seen it. A detail so intimate and personal, it was impossible to be guessed.

“How do you know, Simon?” You whisper as the sound of water rattling gradually shuts down.

Your heart stopped, ‘fuck’.

Urgently, you close the notebook and toss it back in the drawer, leaving it barely closed. You picked up the box and rushed out of the room, behind the main entrance.

Leaving the door just as creaked open as found earlier, you set down the box and knocked a few times.

Hearing footsteps approach, you run behind the corridor walls and listen as Ghost opens the door and walks back inside after a few seconds, this time shutting the door properly.

Your mind was all over the place, coming to a realization that your sworn enemy had been lusting for you, desiring and imagining things your mind never could’ve reached at.

The intimate drawings, etched into the pages of that notebook, had unraveled the very conceals of reality.

You yearned for clarity, for answers to the questions that threatened sanity.

Without a clue about how you were going to get through a whole duel with Ghost in training, your feet led the way to your own dorm. Sleeping had never been so difficult, so giving up on trying was what seemed like the best choice.

You walk back and forth, was this a sick joke? Or reality you had to accept?

In the morning, you had already made sense of everything. Certainly, he was concealing his lust with hate and annoyance.

Trying to push everything away and ignoring the bulge straining against his pants every time he saw you.

You walked towards the training facility. Unsure what to do, however, you’d try and win this duel.

You see Ghost on the other side of the room, glancing at you with a competitive undertone lurking beneath. A glance you would never see the same ever again, shooting a death glare right back at him.

The training area was dimly lit by the rising sun. The harsh humidity from the night before slowly evaporated from the grass. With the superior’s commands, both stepped into the training arena.

As you circled each other, you’d glare at each other with a mixture of aggression and desire, well hidden by both.

Ghost lunged first, a quick swing that you dodged. Your movements were fluid, graceful, and filled with an undercurrent of sensuality that sent shivers down his spine.

God, you hated his guts, how dare he act tough?

He clenched his jaw under the balaclava, suppressing the desire that threatened to consume him.

You retaliate with a powerful kick, narrowly missing Ghost’s chin. He deftly blocked the attack, his body just inches apart.

You lunged forward, your strikes swift and precise, aiming to dismantle the man that you’d grown to despise. He met your attack with equal ferocity, every block and counterattack a testament to his skill and resolve.

Your bodies moved in a swift movement, a brutal waltz that mirrored your turbulent relationship.

Words, though unspoken, hung heavily in the air, threatening to reveal the truth Ghost hid.

As the duel raged, your movements became increasingly desperate. He was stronger. But was he though?

He lunged towards you and before you managed to block his movements, he twisted your arm around and with a swift move pinned you on the ground.

He got dangerously close to your nape,

“You’re getting slow, {Y/n}”

You were unable to move, his grip had you trapped and as much as you tried, you were met with failure.

“And you’re getting distracted, Lieutenant.” You utter.

“Oh yeah? What do you know about me, sergeant?”

He chuckles

“Good question, how come I never knew you were an artist, Ghost?”

His face went pale, and an aura of fear ate him alive.

“Fuck.” he faltered. His grip loosened, shock had frozen his mind and body. You took the opportunity and flipped him over, wrapping your elbow around his throat.

“Fool.” You grinned,

This was your victory.

With a sense of satisfaction coursing through you, a somehow shocking as well. Ghost had frozen, totally out of it as he processed what you just said. 

It indeed was what he feared most, that you knew.

You were well aware of his feelings, of his lust towards you. And of his artistic and passionate enough conceptualization of it. 

Of course, you had to let go of his throat, so you withdrew your arms and stood up. Ghost slowly raised his gaze, locking eyes with you, his expression a blend of disbelief and uncertainty.

Your victory was unfair, using your words wasn't quite the proper way to win a duel. You knew he would’ve won if it wasn't for your ‘confession’.

However, with a smug grin on your face, you walked out of the arena and back into the facility. 

“Fuckin’ snake.”

 Ghost hissed as he stood from the ground and watched you leave. He was all over the place, unknowing of what to do, nor think or percept the situation at hand. 

He made a decision, a regrettable one.

He followed you, his jaw clenched as he walked with furious steps. His boots hit the hard floor with loud thumps. 

Hearing that, you quickly turn around, just to see him right behind you. Ghost guided you into a supply room, your spine making unwelcome contact with the cold wall, as the door was forcefully slammed shut. His grip on your arms was unyielding, and his pupils flared like embers beneath furrowed brows.

“Who the fuck you think you are, huh?” Ghost's voice bore a threatening edge as he loomed over you.

 “Do you think you can barge into my room and just invade my privacy like that? You're proud of what you did?” His words felt demanding as if disregarding his own doings 

“No, Simon. But, if I may ask, how the hell did you know I have a mole right between my thighs?” The satisfaction, evident in your tone, and by his stare you could tell it caught him off guard.

“Shit.” 

He uttered as the tensioned grip on your arms loosened.

“I don't remember ever spreading my legs for you Lieutenant” Those words ignite his imagination like a skyrocket, his pallor evident even through the mask and he knew he would indeed have to confess to his actions sooner or later. 

“Very well,{Y/n}, you drive me fucking crazy. And it ain’ intelligent to sleep with your windows wide open.”That confession drove you wild, he did what? 

“You're a fuckin’ heavy sleeper.”

 he chuckled mischievously as he still glared down at you. Your expression faltered, straddling a fine line between shock and fascination.

Ghost went back to that night when he crawled into your dorm window just to merely steal a fleeting glimpse at you. When he ran his fingers across your skin as you slept soundlessly, completely unaware. 

When he spread your legs and took in every inch of your half-naked body. With his dick straining against his pants, he left your room back from where he came from.

Though he couldn't keep using his own hand for long.

“It's not intelligent to shower with your main entrance unlocked, too” 

You advised with a glare, one capable of bringing a soldier to his knees immediately.

“So that's when you did your little ‘exploration'?.. Ghost uttered.

Next time, just join me.” A hot whisper met your neck, god, the persuasion. He was a little too good at it. The words hit hard, and a silent gasp escaped your throat.

“I didn't just explore, lieutenant, that drawing… Do I have that much impact on you? That you'd have to stoop so low?” You utter as your head tilts closer to his, your eyes locking together.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, {Y/n}.” Ghost snarled as he took in a sharp inhale. His voice, lower and huskier than before, was ever so slightly muffled by the balaclava.

His hands, which had loosened their grip on your arms, now move to your waist, pulling you even closer with tellable desperation.

You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him. 

"That's the pretty thing about it, the danger it offers.”

Your tone gets him worked up, dripping with seduction and lust. 

Your fingers make their way up his balaclava, slowly lifting it to the bridge of his nose and reveal his lips. 

The lips you remember seeing during that awkward encounter, where you saw his face on accident in the locker rooms.

Ghost can't resist any longer. 

He crashes his lips against yours with unspeakable aggression, and the two of you lose yourselves in a passionate, overly heated kiss. 

The supply room suddenly feels like the hottest place on Earth as the tension between you blisses into a desire that can no longer be contained.

Your tongue swirls around his as Ghost grabs your waist and pushes you against the wall with urgency. Desperate sighs of lust fill the supply room.

Your lips drip with saliva, Breaking the kiss had never been so difficult, but you had to breathe. 

“I hate you, but I desperately need you as well.” Ghost whispers breathlessly with his lips brushing against your neck.

His hands rush to remove the gloves covering his skin, and he hesitantly slides his hands under your shirt, aggressively stroking your sides as he gasps against your ear.

“You’re something fucking else LT.” you chuckle.

Ghost grabs your wrists, and bluntly places both your hands on his body. One on his chest and one on his crotch. You gasp as he does so. 

“Any idea what you do to me, {Y/n}? Here it is.” 

You feel the hardness between his legs, throbbing for release. Begging to feel you. 

You feel his heart thumping out of his chest. 

“Feel. I suppose you can tell why I hate you now.” He hissed 

“Walking around with my dick hard around the base isn't fun, {Y/n}. And I'm tired of using my own hand.” Those words sunk in, and the realization made your back tingle.

“I believe you want me to do something about that, and I could.” You teased with a grin. Ghost looked at you with lust and ran his hand through your hair. 

“Then kneel.”

Hearing those words, you fall to your knees and fumble with his belt. Slowly, purposely to edge him. With your fingers, you unzip his pants and slide your hand underneath his boxers. 

As your hand gracefully wrapped around his length, Ghost gripped your hair as his lip quivered. 

You teased his slit with your tongue, tasting the precum leaking down, planting soft kisses around it. Sliding him in your throat with provocation. It took every ounce of self-control he had left not to just slam in your mouth.

It was irrefutable that he ached for this, longed to feel the warmth of your body for the longest time. Ghost groaned and rolled his eyes to the back of his head. The satisfaction and pleasure were sending him to unimaginable places.

“Fuck, {Y/n}” he moaned. Making you take 6 and a half inches in your throat. 

Tears welled your eyes, and he led your head back and forth. Holding onto his hips, you followed the movement. 

Thrusting into his hand could never compare. And being carried away, he began moving his hips as well, hitting the back of your throat and sliding just slightly back again. 

Handling that must have been difficult, but seeing him squirm and hearing him moan was enough to keep you going.

The hand tugging your hair never loosens its grip, occasionally reaching for your neck too. Ghost was feral, his desire for you had never been so enticing, so captivating. You were all up on his brain, tying his mind on your fingers and playing it like a puppet on strings. 

Mostly, he had no choice but to let you. 

The audible panting and wet noises filled the entire room. Ghost felt himself getting closer and closer, with every thrust, his mind clouded even more. The tears streaming down your face an exotic blend of pleasure and weariness. 

“{Y/n}, I’m too close..” Ghost moaned out, telling you was a regrettable decision. Since you stopped yourself and looked up at him. Slowly taking him out of your mouth, you wipe saliva off your lips.

“I suppose you'll have to use your own hand after all.” That sentence drove him crazy, the teasing was heating his body and evaporating every ounce of self-respect into the air. 

With that desperation, he would agree to get on his knees and beg you for it. Though you refused to give him the chance. 

You get up and step away, Ghost’s nostrils flared.

“Snake.” 

He hissed as you left the room.