Bullshit Frog's Crack Corner @frogs-crackcorner - Tumblr Blog

Vampire!Ghost x Human Bloodreserve Female Reader

(MDNI 18+)

A/N: This is actually inspired by every hybrid ghost fic out there. I just thought, what if tf 141 are vampires in the military, not hybrids? Well, here is my thought to it.

Words: 6.8 k (This got out of hand lol sorry)

Triggers: P in V, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, pet names (many, sorry), drug use (Viagra, Addyi) and probably incorrect description of the effects sorry, dark content

The news that you'll be accompanying Task Force 141 on the next mission sends shivers down your spine. Knowing you're assigned to Ghost makes you want to write your last will.

They don't expect you to come back. Why would they? Ghost's human blood reserves have never returned alive. Rumor has it he's usually given more than one human blood reserve because at least one always dies.

This is confirmed when, at the end of the Task Force 141 mission briefing, you're sent into the room with three other people. The other's blood donors are already there. A woman for Soap, a man for Gaz, and a man for Captain Price.

A woman to your left is standing upright, her hands behind her back, as if she is a soldier herself. She doesn't show any fear. The man next to her is doing the same. You don't understand how they manage to hide their fear until you notice the order in which you're standing.

"We thank you for your service," Price begins. You've long since stopped listening. You're standing at the front—you're Ghost's first human blood reserve. The two people behind you are just your backup.

It's said that Ghost uses his blood donors three times. No one has ever survived the third time. Your room has already been given to someone else, your life insurance policy cashed in, and your death certificate is already prepared at your notary.

Price explains all this while trying hard to make eye contact with you. He ultimately blames it on the fact that it's a "high-risk mission." You don't believe a word of it and don't return his gaze.

Instead, your fear-filled eyes meet those of the man who is supposed to mean your death. Ghost's dark eyes are already fixed on you. Intense and definitely hungry. Your heart rate immediately increases, and small wrinkles form around his eyes, as if he's grinning beneath the terrifying mask.

When the mission briefing ends, you're the first to leave the room. You can't escape; it's already too late. And the employment contract you signed contains a clear clause that makes it impossible to terminate it mid-year.

Instead, you're using the little time before your deployment starts to make preparations. You will survive Ghost. That's your final goal before your military contract expires at the end of the year.

---<>---

They call it "the feast" when they return to the safe house for the first time, where you, as their blood reserves, are kept for the duration of their deployment. Everyone has their own room. You're mostly in Ghost's room, barely moving. Your replacements spend their time in the run-down living room. Their jokes don't make it through the walls for you to hear, but you're not in the mood for laughing anyway.

So far, the plan is for Task Force 141 to return to the safe house once a week to satisfy their blood hunger. Your daily routine consists of drinking a lot, eating iron-rich food, and experiencing several nervous breakdowns.

That Ghost will eventually appear in the doorway of your room is expected, yet it still startles you when he does.

You swallow hard. Your heart rate automatically increases, and Ghost takes another step into the room, closing the door behind him. "This heartbeat isn't exactly helping my self-control, honey."

You back away as he approaches. "Relax," he murmurs.

Controlling your breathing is virtually impossible, and instead of calming your heartbeat, your limbs only began to tremble. Your head felt far too light compared to the sensation in your legs. Your circulation nearly stopped with fear.

"Calm down. You'll pass out before I've even started." He's mocking you. You can hear it in Ghost's voice.

Not a word escapes your lips. Instead, you slump down on the bed behind you. With trembling fingers, you pull up your sleeve and offer your arm to the soldier.

He makes a sound that reflects either disappointment or outrage. "No fight at all?"

You look away, your arm still raised, speechless.

"Such a good girl," Ghost purrs, kneeling before you. He takes your arm and holds it in a surprisingly gentle grip. With his free hand, he pulls his mask up a little, exposing his mouth. The sharp fangs flash between his lips as he opens them slightly.

Every muscle in your body tenses as he guides your arm to his face. His mouth rests on your pulse point at your wrist. You can feel his lips against your skin and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that might lessen the pain that follows as his sharp fangs sink into your skin.

A whimper escapes your throat. At first, you feel only pressure, then the tearing of your skin and the sharp fangs sliding beneath it. The pain intensifies into an almost unbearable sting. Instinctively, you try to pull your arm away, but Ghost's grip tightens around your wrist, causing the first tears to stream down your face.

His teeth disappear after a short time, replaced by his tongue licking the open wound from which your blood is flowing. You lose all sense of time. He must have been kneeling there in front of you for quite a while. When he finally releases you, you're so dizzy you can barely see.

All feeling has deserted your body, and you're unsure how you're even managing to sit upright.

You register that Ghost is moving around the room. He takes your arm again when he stops in front of you. You want to scream, to pull away, to stop him from touching you again, but your body is in shock and won't allow any movement.

You don't feel pain again, but instead a bandage being wrapped around your wrist. With enough pressure to prevent further blood loss from the open wound. "Still there, bunny?"

No reaction, just your arm falling from his hand when he lets go. Your eyes roll back, and then your body topples backward. The mattress cushions your fall.

---<>---

Even days later, you're still struggling with the blood loss.

It's time to start your life support measures. One out of every three times Ghost has used you as live food. Only two left.

Your packed backpack doesn't contain the items you're supposed to carry as a walking blood supply. Instead, it's filled with ways to prevent Ghost from killing you in a blood haze next time.

Task Force 141's arrival is announced over the radio this time. Minor injuries among the soldiers, so you're to prepare for a larger blood donation. You do—in your own way.

When Ghost enters the safe house, everything smells of death. He immediately notices it and sniffs. "Did anyone die?" he asks no one in particular. His two backup blood supplies are sitting at a table, shrugging their shoulders, unconcerned.

"It can't be mine. I can hear Bonnie's heartbeat," Soap replies and heads straight upstairs to his room.

"The smell is coming from upstairs, so it's yours or Capt's," Gaz explains, turning the corner to the only room on the ground floor.

Ghost knows Price is the last person who would kill his blood supply. An annoyed breath escapes Ghost, and he follows Soap upstairs. As Gaz said, the smell gets worse and more intense the closer he gets to his door. But there's a heartbeat. Much too fast to belong to someone dead.

When Ghost opens the door, he wants to turn right around and go back out. But his eyes stay fixed on you. You're standing in a corner of the room. A sheet of plastic is spread out beneath you to protect the floor from the blood that's covering you. A dead man's blood—from head to toe. You left only one arm clean; the one without a bandage.

You look like you're the one coming from a battlefield, not him. Thick drops trickle down your body, over your top and shorts, down your bare legs. The blood is old enough to look brown, slightly clotted, and—that smell...

"Hell, girl." Ghost slams the door behind him, the rage in his eyes unmistakable.

You say nothing—why would you? Your presence speaks volumes. You simply raise your clean arm, almost as if you're offering yourself willingly this time. Your heartbeat is still fast, but calmer than last time.

Ghost's hunger outweights the aversion to the smell of old blood, which overpowers the sweet scent of your living body.

With a few steps, Ghost is at your side, roughly grabbing your arm. He's not as gentle as last time, sinking his teeth into your skin the second his mask is pulled up.

You're prepared for the pain this time, yet a pained sound escapes your mouth. Ghost drinks quickly. This time, the pain doesn't come from his teeth, but from the sucking on your skin. You can practically feel the blood being drained from your veins.

Just as dizziness begins to set in, Ghost abruptly releases you. He goes straight to the door, taking deeper breaths as he moves further away. "Not again," he warns, and then leaves the room.

And you celebrate your success. You're still alive.

---<>---

The third time follows. You're even more nervous this time, but better prepared. With something actively keeping him at bay.

He enters the room, relieved not to have been greeted by the acrid smell of death in the doorway. But then he sees what you're wearing. Silver armor. You look like a knight, only your head and neck are bare. Everything else is covered in plates of silver with crosses welded onto them.

"Are you kidding me?!" Ghost growls. The door slams even harder behind him this time as he enters the room.

The missions are getting tougher, his healing powers weakened by the meager amount of blood he consumes. Missions are always a diet for him anyway. And you're only provoking him and his control even more.

You say nothing. As always. But you tilt your head to the side, offering him your neck. And this time, Ghost can detect your scent and the pulse in your carotid artery. His teeth immediately sink into his lower lip, even though he'd just been debating whether to use one of his spare human blood reserves today.

With a few steps, he's at your side, but there's no surface he can touch without getting burned. He bends his head down, his lips lingering at ear level. "You think this will save you." His words are barely a whisper, and beneath his armor, the hairs on your skin stand on end. "It won't."

Then his teeth are at your neck, digging in deep, his jaws linger longer than necessary. This time, the pain is entirely deliberate; Ghost bites harder and harder. Your shoulders tense up, the armor against your body clanking.

You raise your hands to push him away, but then stop for two reasons. First, if you push him away, his firm bite on your neck will likely tear out far too much flesh, and you'll bleed to death. Second, you're not strong enough to push him away anyway.

So you decide to use your words. "Please..." You don't know exactly what you're asking him for. That he'll stop? That he won't kill you? Or perhaps that if he does kill you, he'll do it quickly?

His teeth pull from your skin, his tongue licks the bloody wound, then his lips briefly leave your body. "Bunny can talk," he says mockingly. You can hear the grin in his voice. "Please what?"

"Please..." you start again, swallowing against the pain in your throat. "...don't hurt me." It's the only thing you can ask him for.

"Oh, sweetheart, so soft and scared." Again his tongue licks your throat, catching every drop that flows in a small river from the two open wounds left by his canines. "Take off the armor," he demands then.

You shake your head. Your throat feels constricted. You can't say anything more to him.

Ghost lowers his head back to your throat and his open mouth over the bleeding wounds. Like before, he sucks at the spot, almost greedily. His hands rise frequently, trying to grab a hold of you, but always end up pulling back. Every now and then, his skin hisses where it touches you. His fingers against the armor on your arms, the side of his jaw against the silver on your shoulder, or his chin touching the edge of your chest armor. Yet he doesn't stop.

He's so close, you can hear him swallow. And you feel his breath brushing your neck. What you hadn't considered is that your head is completely unprotected. Ghost's hand finds the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back further. Your neck is now even more exposed, and he doesn't waste a second shifting his teeth to another spot, biting down hard, further increasing the blood flow.

Your skin is warmed by your own blood, which flows down your neck and throat. You whimper and whine like an injured animal.

Because of the angle at which he holds your head, you can barely breathe properly. And now, in addition to the blood loss, comes the oxygen deprivation, which instantly causes you to collapse.

Ghost doesn't catch you. But he doesn't take any more blood from you either. He just looks down at you as you gasp for air, clutching your bleeding neck. The silver armor reflects his silhouette. "Your tricks will run out eventually. And when that happens, I'll be there to take everything you've denied me."

With that, he leaves.

---<>---

You've broken the record. You've survived Ghost three times.

Standing in the doorway to his room are the two people who are supposed to replace you after your death, staring at you in utter surprise.

"You're still alive," the man says dryly.

The woman examines the bandages on your body. A thick one around your neck, one on one wrist, and a plaster on the other. You're pale, but alive enough to play blood donor once more. "That'll do for today."

"Who's next?" They're not having the conversation with you, but about you. The fate of the next living meal is sealed with a game of rock, paper, scissors. Next will be the woman, who now wears a sour expression and gives the man the cold shoulder as she leaves.

The man's gaze meets yours again. You're sitting at the foot of the bed—your body pitifully slumped and exhausted. "Nice to have known you. You were very brave," he tells you. You don't reply, but lower your gaze to the floor. The man closes the door behind him as he leaves.

You open your hand. Two different pills stare back at you. You swallow them without another thought and then, with great difficulty, peel yourself out of your clothes as the pills slowly take effect.

Task Force 141 is on their way back. Soap's living blood bank informed you an hour ago—the only one who actually talks to you once the soldiers are gone. The only one who convinced you to actually make your last attempt at survival and not give up. She winked at you when you finally agreed and took the pills out of your backpack, along with the lingerie set you're now wearing.

You hear the front door open and the quiet voices as the soldiers head off to their blood banks. Then Ghost's footsteps in the hallway. And finally, the door to your room opens.

You don't dare look up. He would see your dilated pupils and the flush on your cheeks, caused by the heat coursing through your body. You're already feeling dizzy, so you avoid getting up and stay put on the corner of the bed. You're not sure if the wet patch between your legs is from the hot flashes or the intense arousal. But you know the headache and fatigue are signs the pills are taking effect.

The door closes quietly. "That trick... I like it," Ghost murmurs. He approaches you, more slowly. His eyes take in your barely covered body. And then you look up, meeting his gaze.

Your lips are slightly parted, as if you were about to say something, but you immediately forget it at the sight of him. Your pupils are so dilated your eyes look almost completely black. The whole room smells of your sweet blood and the unmistakable scent of desire.

"Beautiful parting gift, bunny." His hand finds your jaw. Fingertips trace your face, lifting your chin a little higher. The wound on your neck should be hurting, but you don't make a sound.

Your fingers tremble as you slowly lift them and remove the bandage from your neck. Of course you're cooperating. You have been the whole time.

You tilt your head to the side as Ghost's hand falls from your face, offering him the uninjured side of your neck.

"Such a good girl," Ghost praises you. "So good."

He kneels in front of you, getting down to face level. "I'll do this slowly and painlessly, okay, birdie?" In response, you simply close your eyes and await the final bite.

It comes after a few moments. Ghost's hand finds the back of your neck, holding you in place. Then his mouth is on your throat, his teeth scraping at your skin. "You smell heavenly," he whispers against your skin. Then comes the bite.

It doesn't hurt this time. Just like he promised. His teeth slowly break through your skin and withdraw instantly as the blood begins to flow.

Your skin feels even more sensitive from the pills. The sound creeping from your throat is a full moan. Your fingers dig so tightly into the sheets beneath you that your knuckles turn white. Your chest curves forward further, tilting your head to the side to give Ghost better access. "Jesus, babe," Ghost breathes against your neck and starts to drink more. Each time he sucks on your throat or traces his tongue over the wound, your vocal cords vibrate with a new moan.

Ghost can smell how wet you're getting. He can practically hear the hormones coursing through your blood. Your heart is racing, but this time not with fear, but with arousal.

His free hand moves to your thigh, pulling your leg to the side, and he shifts his kneeling position from beside you to in between your legs. Your thighs are now pressed against his sides, one on each side. You try to squeeze your legs together to create friction, but Ghost's body is in the way.

Ghost's lips pull away from your neck. He licks a few drops of blood from his lips and swallows. He looks at you intently, and you wonder if the pills will finally take effect and save you, or if you'll be lying dead on the bed in the next hour, your corpse likely dragged out of the house by Price and set on fire.

It takes exactly two heartbeats before Ghost's gaze darkens. "What have you done?"

The dizziness intensifies, as does your desire, as your gaze slowly travels down his body to the clearly visible bulge in his tactical pants—definitely affected by the pills; the effects he's also absorbed through your blood.

It takes you several attempts to answer, your voice breaking with a low moan. "Viagra and Addyi," you explain honestly. In your state, a lie isn't even possible.

Ghost snorts. "You only had to ask, bunny" His hands find your thighs and he pulls you closer to the foot of the bed until you can barely sit on it. "Now we have to deal with what you've done."

You close your eyes again and let your head fall back. His hands on the bare skin of your thighs are almost enough to bring you to your climax. And Ghost can clearly smell it. "Fuck, baby. With that trick, you've sealed your own fate."

His lips find the skin on your breast not covered by the lace bra. The skin is immediately sliced open by his teeth.

Blood trickles from the scratch, down between your breasts, across your stomach, and into the thin panties.

He's no longer focused on your blood. Instead, he's sucking on every inch of skin he can get hold of. You can only respond with a shamefully loud moan. Your trick is working, but the price is high.

Your hands leave their place on the edge of the bed and find Ghost's body instead. The hard muscles beneath your fingers and the cold skin extinguish any remaining semblance of common sense. You find the rolled-up balaclava and reach under the fabric. With one swift movement, you lift it over his face until it's completely removed and you can let it fall to the floor. He looks at you. Not angry or furious, but not with understanding either. "Dangerous, sweetheart," he warns, but it's too late. You see every detail of his face and every tense muscle.

And then, without hesitation, you press your lips to his. His teeth immediately catch on your lips, and you bleed into the kiss. Ghost responds instantly, harder, more demanding. He forces your mouth open, shoves his tongue inside, licks your lips and the bleeding spots, while his hands tighten around your thighs, pulling you so close that you're no longer sitting on the end of the bed, but completely in his grasp. You wrap your legs around his hips to keep from falling backward, and your hands dig into his shoulders.

Then Ghost stands up, with you in his arms, pressed tightly against him. You don't break the kiss or his tight grip. Your arms wrap around his neck, preventing him from pulling away. He takes a few steps, places his hands on your ass and back, and then leans forward. You remain pressed against him until your back hits the mattress. Only then do Ghost's hands release you, and you allow it.

Ghost follows you onto the bed, not directly above you, but along your legs. He leans forward, presses a kiss to your thigh, and bites down hard. You hiss in pain, but at the same time, your back arches with pleasure coursing through your body.

You barely feel the blood loss. Ghost drinks in large gulps, almost without stopping. Only the scent of your far too close pussy makes him pause. Instead, he presses several kisses to your skin, up your thigh, and then a kiss to your clothed center. "Ghost," you moan at the contact of his lips with your middle.

Your fingers grasp his hair and grip the back of his head, pinning it in place. "Oh, sweetheart, don't worry, I'm not leaving. You deserve this."

His fingers reach for your panties and pull them down in an excruciatingly slow movement. Just enough to expose your pussy without him having to get up from his position between your legs. And then, without warning, he licks from your entrance all the way up to your clit, collecting the traces of your slick on his tongue. "Fuck, this is better than your blood, darling," he raves, pressing his lips to your clitoris and sucking hard. You almost scream. The increased blood flow from the pills makes your entire genitals way too sensitive.

You're already way too close to an orgasm, and Ghost hasn't even really started yet. "Oh God, Ghost, I-I..." you begin, your voice trembling.

"Mmm, bunny. Come for me. We have all night for more." His breath brushes against your wet center and, after his words, immediately returns to where you need him most. His tongue finds your entrance, licking several times at a spot you didn't know was that sensitive. You come with a loud, high-pitched moan on his tongue, and a growl escapes Ghost's throat, as if someone was trying to take food away from a hungry animal.

He doesn't give you a second to recover from your first orgasm. His tongue rubs against your clit. Your muscles tremble, and with each movement, you involuntarily slide a little further up the bed. "Where are you going?" Ghost asks, grabbing your hips and pulling you back towards him with a jerk.

"Wait... please." Your voice is just a faint whisper, a pathetic attempt to get a moment to let your body adjust to the heightened sensitivity.

"What should I wait for? For the pills to wear off? Sweetheart, that'll take a few more hours," he teases. One of his hands leaves your hips and brushes against your skin until his fingers are between your legs. He inserts a finger inside you, slowly and deliberately. "Like this?" he asks provocatively.

You moan uncontrollably as he presses his finger against your G-spot. He rubs and presses the area repeatedly. His eyes never leave your face. He watches as your hands clutch the sheets beneath you for support and how your chest rises and falls rapidly in short, sharp breaths.

"Beautiful." His sweet words reach right to your throbbing core. Your muscles tense, the knot in your lower abdomen tightens with every movement of his digit. His code name slips from your lips, like a prayer. And then the knot breaks, white arousal rushes through your body in liberating waves.

Ghost doesn't remove his finger from your pussy; instead, he pushes a second finger in until he's knuckle-deep inside you. You gasp so sharply, as if you've been shot, not having the best sex of your life.

"Too–ah!" The movement of Ghost's fingers as he slides in and out makes you shudder and interrupts your sentence. "Too much!" Now you deliberately try to flee from him, but Ghost won't let you. He only stops the movement of his fingers when he pushes them back inside you to the hilt.

"That's what you wanted, bunny, isn't it? For me to be busy with something other than biting you." He growls each word in a voice that's too rough.

You swallow. Even without the movement of his fingers, your pussy throbs with the aftereffects of your second orgasm. The muscles are so engorged with blood and all the nerve endings so sensitive that it hurts.

You shake your head, but without the strength to start an argument. "I just wanted to live," you confess. Deep laughter follows from Ghost. He doesn't give you a real answer. His mouth returns to your pussy, over your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in circular motions. Your back arches, and you moan in a sound that could have been a whimper.

Then his fingers begin to move again—in and out. First slowly and aimlessly, then deep, his fingertips pressing against your walls each time he withdraws.

"Oh-oh God. Ghost, I-I can't!" you try, but this time your climax comes so quickly that your statement is instantly proven a lie.

Your sight completely deserts you. Your eyes roll back, leaving only the whites visible. Your back muscles protest. Everything hurts, every cell feels like it's on fire. You're sure your leg muscles are about to cramp completely.

"Such a good girl," Ghost compliments you. "All for me." He finally pulls away and completely removes your half-pushed-down panties from your legs.

You immediately squeeze your thighs together, unconsciously, as protection against anything that might come next. Ghost clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Baby, we're just getting started." With rough hands, he grabs your knees and pushes them apart again. Then he positions himself between your thighs.

Every spot he bit is still bleeding, and small red streams seep from the wounds onto the sheets beneath you. Your skin glistens with a delicate layer of sweat. Your cheeks are flushed, evidence of the life still within you.

Ghost crawls over you until his face is leveled with yours. The moisture of your arousal glistens on his chin. He grins down at you—the kind of grin that brings a wicked glint to his eyes. His tongue traces his lips, and then he lowers himself, pressing his lips to yours.

You taste your own arousal on his lips. It eliminates the entire taste of blood, which was still very noticeable on Ghost's tongue during your first kiss. Ghost pulls away after only a short time, kisses his way down your neck to the side he used to drink a week ago, and bites down again. Your hip flinches at the sensation of pain. Ghost immediately responds by pressing his pelvis against yours, practically pinning you to the mattress. He sucks and drinks without shame, without thought.

You're dizzy, you haven't been able to see properly since your third orgasm anyway, and the nerves in your body are so hypersensitive that you don't even notice the numbness. "You're making me addicted," Ghost confesses, perhaps revealing his greatest weakness.

You can't answer, at least not with words. But your hands reach for his body. You run your fingernails down his back, pulling his shirt further and further up until you can feel his cold skin beneath your hands.

"For someone who says you can't anymore, you're pretty eager." There's a hint of amusement in his voice. He sits up and removes his shirt in one fluid motion. It lands somewhere on the floor; you don't track where. Your attention is on his toned chest.

You bite your broken lower lip, a trickle of blood starts flowing again, and Ghost's eyes focus on it. Then you answer slowly and hesitantly. "I... take it back."

"Of course, Princess." Ghost's lips curl into a crooked grin. His hands find his pants, undoing the button and the zipper. He pulls them down just enough for his dick to spring free. It springs hard against his lower abdomen. The veins are clearly visible, the tip a dark red. A drop is already running down his length.

You swallow. Like everything about him, his dick is enormous. But your mind won't let you worry about it.

You reach for his dick, and even without moving your hand, a deep rumble escapes Ghost's throat. He's so sensitive from the passive effect of the Viagra that he could come at the slightest touch.

He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. "Don't spoil the fun, sweetheart." Was it a warning? Or a promise? You don't know, but you listen to him.

Ghost lowers himself onto you again, positioning himself between your legs, which you open even wider for him. "Such a good little thing, you listen even without instructions. So good for me." By now you're sure that Ghost's praise isn't just for you, but also to ground himself – to remind himself that you're cooperating with him and that he doesn't need to force control over you.

You lick your lips, unaware that you're still bleeding. The taste of iron makes you grunt in distaste. Ghost laughs. "Not to your liking, huh? Let me do this." He leans towards you, licking your chin, where a drop of blood has already trickled down, all the way to your lips. He sucks on your lower lip, reigniting your moans, which had subsided in the meantime of him removing his clothes.

He supports himself with one hand beside you, positioning his tip at your entrance with the other. You're wet enough for him to slide in easily. But he doesn't. Instead, he rubs his dick a few times between your folds, up to your clit, and back down again. You're already trembling and moaning as if your fourth orgasm is about to wash over you.

"Not yet, bunny," Ghost whispers in your ear as he leans down towards you. The muscles in his arm and his abs tremble from the tension he maintains to avoid crushing you. Or from the control he maintains.

You nod, a sign that you understand.

"Fuck. Of course you're listening, baby." He doesn't let his satisfaction with your cooperation go unnoticed. He rewards you by entering you. Slowly, but with a fluid motion.

You let your head fall back and close your eyes. The moan from your throat is the hottest thing Ghost has ever heard. His face immediately lands in the crook of your neck, and he licks and sucks at your skin. This time, he doesn't let his teeth sink into your already damaged and broken skin. He only licks up the remaining blood that still seeps from the wounds and clings to your skin.

The muscles of your pussy clench around his dick, perhaps in an attempt to adjust to his size, or probably in an attempt to push him out from the overstimulation.

In a slow rhythm, Ghost moves his hips back. Every inch that his tip slides along your wall almost throws you over the edge again. "Ah, Ghost!" escapes your lips, though you don't want to say it aloud. It comes out anyway. "I can't take it much longer," you confess.

Ghost slides back inside you until his dick is fully submerged once more. He presses directly against you A-spot, and your body tenses with stimulation.

"O-oh yes!" Your breath mingles with your words, and you're unsure whether you're still speaking or just moaning. You press your hips against his, managing to push the head of his dick against that spot again.

Your heart nearly leaps from your chest as Ghost grabs your hip with one hand, pushes you down, and presses his hips against yours in small but powerful movements. He doesn't slide in and out; he just presses his dick into that one spot that makes you see stars. "Come for me, baby, we've still got a few hours for more."

With the speed at which he works your sweet spot, you instantly waver on the brink of ecstasy. Your fourth orgasm is so intense that your muscles tighten around Ghost's dick, and he reaches his own climax with the sheer force of the sensation.

But the Viagra keeps his dick erect. Even though Ghost's nerve endings are just as overstimulated as yours, he moves on to the next movement. He helps you through the afterglow of your orgasm by withdrawing his dick until only the head remains inside you, then he slides back in over your G-spot.

The sounds you make are sounds of victory to Ghost. He pushes his sperm and your fluids back inside you with every movement. Your entire body trembles beneath him. He knows that for you, as a simple human being, there's a limit. Especially with the medication you've taken and the side effects that can be unpleasant for a woman's body. His movements become correspondingly slow and careful.

"You're so good to me, my sweet girl." Ghost lowers his head onto your shoulder, and you use his closeness to slide your hands down the back of his neck. "Mine," he repeats.

This time, it takes longer for both of you to reach climax. The overstimulation, the frayed nerve endings, and clearly your exhaustion slow everything down. Ghost comes first, but he doesn't stop. He maintains his pace, with a halting rhythm. With one hand, he finds your clit and circles the nerves with his fingertips. You whimper more than you moan. Everything is too much; every sensation in your body is numb, and every circle of his index finger hurts, as if someone was holding a stun gun between your legs.

"Almost there, sweetheart. Just one more time." Ghost tries to encourage you. Tears stream from your tightly squeezed eyes. Your grip on Ghost's neck is so tight, as if he's the only thing keeping you in the world of the living. It's paradoxical—he's the very thing that should have killed you.

You reach your climax with a soft sob. Ghost stills, his head dropping in the crook of your neck, breathing you in, listening to your slowing heartbeat. His doesn't move. Doesn't bite.

He stays like that for a few seconds. When he pulls out of you, your juices trickle down your thighs. Before he pulls away completely, his lips brush yours, slow almost absent, but deliberate. He picks up your panties from the floor and pulls them back up your legs.

You're certain you've lost all ability to move. Exhaustion washes over you so quickly that falling asleep just moments after Ghost pulls you from the wet patch on the bed feels more like passing out.

---<>---

You're still alive. In more pain than you expected, but your heart is still beating in your chest, and your newly set record for staying alive has risen once again.

No one speaks to you when Task Force 141 heads off on to their next mission. But the air is thick with the knowledge that everyone heard what you and Ghost were up to. Soap's Bonnie winked at you in the hallway. You had to lean against the wall just to make it to the bathroom on your own.

Even days later, you're still restricted. And that's exactly what will later be your death sentence.

Enemy soldiers storm the safe house. You have no weapons; none of you, as living blood banks, have any training or combat experience. You are completely at the mercy of the enemy.

When two soldiers burst into your room, you barely stand a chance. You manage to take a few steps before two bullets hit you. One in your lower abdomen, the other pierces your right lung.

You lie on the ground for a while, breathing heavily. One hand on your stomach, the other on your chest. Your sense of time fades, your eyes close a few times, but you haven't given up the fight.

This isn't how you want to die. If you could still choose, you would have preferred to die at Ghost's hands. But you can't anymore.

Ghost can already smell your blood from afar. No one responds to Price's message that the mission is being aborted and Task Force 141 is heading back early. There are no lights on in the safe house. Not like usual when they return from a mission.

"Something's wrong," Soap mutters, but Ghost has already broken into a sprint. He practically slams the door off its hinges and runs past the bodies in the living room without even glancing at them. If he still had a heart, it would have burst from his chest as he stumbles through the door into your room. There you lie, half-dead. Your breathing is far too loud, and with each exhale, blood drips from your mouth.

"Bunny." Ghost whispers. You turn your head toward him, your eyes wide open.

"N-n-no." gurgles from your throat. "A-a-amb-b-bush..." Your information comes too late. The enemies are throwing molotov cocktails through the shattered windows. The entire safe house is engulfed in flames. The thin walls are riddled with machine gun fire. Bullets strike Ghost, piercing skin, flesh, and muscle unprotected by his vest.

You can only watch as he falls to the ground, the fire creeping closer and closer to his body. With your last ounce of strength, you drag yourself across the floor. Your lungs give out. You barely get any oxygen, and your body begins to shut down.

When you're close enough to Ghost, you extend your wrist and press it against his lips. You have enough of your own blood on your hands to instantly smear the red fluid onto his lips, awakening his instinct. The sharp fangs emerge, and you press your wrist against the tips. The skin tears—more messily than Ghost would have done, but it's enough to draw the last amount of blood from your body into his mouth. He swallows reflexively. With each swallow, his wounds slowly heal.

You close your eyes in relief. It's time to let go. You can't endure any more pain.

You feel another grip on your wrist. A mouth desiring your blood. Sharp fangs raking against your skin. And then a completely different sensation.

A bite. But not one that drains your blood. One that pumps something into your body.

Poison flows through your veins. Hot and burning, like a corrosive liquid, incinerating you from the inside out. A pain so profound you're incapable of any reaction.

"Come on." His voice is distant. "I can hear your heartbeat. It's not too late." There's a strange echo in his voice.

The heat around you becomes unbearable. Is this what being burned alive feels like?

The darkness you're in is terrifying. You desperately want to cling to Ghost's voice, but there's nothing. Silence.

He's just sitting beside your body, in an empty, cold warehouse, far from the place where you saved his pathetic, undeserved life—waiting for your last heartbeat.

And when it comes, you finally open your eyes—blood red, with fangs sinking into your lower lip.

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