Hi!! My name is Kat, I'm 24, she/her, and this is basically a summary (I guess is the best word) of my profile. This is where I'll update a masterlist, who/what I write for, and some other information I feel like is important. So first things first, a masterlist and stuff I plan to write!
Main blog : @wavegrandpa
Wattpad: HighwayOrganTrade
As you can see, this list is very very empty, but I hope I fill it soon with all the little scenarios y'all use to get yourselves to sleep. This is not an end all, be all as to who I write for :). As a reminder, requests are closed for now!
♡ = 18+, ♤ = fluff, ☀ = angst
♫ = there's a cool playlist for this one!
Movies
Twilight
Carlisle Cullen
Art History ♡ ♤ ♫
Live A Little ♡ ♫
As Long As You’re There ♤ ♫
Alice Cullen
Nothing here yet!
Jasper Hale
Honesty Hour ♡ ♫
Jacob Black
Nothing here yet!
Edward Cullen
Nothing here yet!
Various
Nothing here yet!
Harry Potter
Severus Snape
Nothing here yet!
Sirius Black
Nothing here yet!
Fred Weasley
Nothing here yet!
George Weasley
Nothing here yet!
Cedric Diggory
Nothing here yet!
Various
Nothing here yet!
Video Games
Red Dead Redemption II
Arthur Morgan
Nothing here yet!
John Marston
Nothing here yet!
Javier Escuella
Nothing here yet!
Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II
Ghost
An Echo In The Dark (Part One) (Part Two) ♡ ♫
Baptized By Fire (I)
König
Sciamachy ♤ ☀
An Echo In The Dark (Part One) (Part Two) ♡ ♫
Soap MacTavish
Nothing here yet!
Gaz
Nothing here yet!
Alejandro
Nothing here yet!
Various
I Can’t (John Price x Reader) ♤☀
Series
Safe House: Chapter I (Soap)
Miscellaneous
Pelle (Midsommar 2019)
A Little Distraction ♤
Geralt (The Witcher)
Kylo Ren (Star Wars)
Just a few more things:
Minors. I kindly ask that minors find a different author to read. Not all of my works will be 18+, but regardless, most of them will be coded a certain way. I have a very hard time writing 18+, mostly because I think about how I read things I shouldn't have at a certain age, and it altered how I viewed relationships and how sex should be. Knowing a minor is consuming my works would make me extremely uncomfortable, so I must reiterate that this blog is MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact).
While I do love writing, I do not get paid for it (unless you're hiring lol). If I could write day in and day out, I would, I promise. I have a full time job, and I have friends and hobbies outside of Tumblr. Aside from this, I have bipolar disorder, that includes episodes of mania and depression. I cannot tell when these episodes are going to happen, and I rarely know when they are actively happening. With all this in mind, please understand if my fics are posted randomly. I don't intend on ghosting this blog or any of you wonderful people! If you're curious on why I haven't posted (or if I'm taking over your feed), you can always send an ask! I will always answer any questions to the best of my abilities.
Taking part in 31 Days of Ghost by @emeritual
Day 7 | Favourite Song(s) From Impera
>> DARKNESS AT THE HEART OF MY LOVE <<
When the summer dies
Severing the ties
I'm with you always, always
Will you walk the line?
My path serpentine
Remember always
That love is all you need
Tell me who you wanna be
And I will set you free
>> CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE <<
Call out in the middle of the night
For when else would I hear you?
Fall out in the cold starlight
I can save you if you do
A/N: Shoutout to Respite On The Spitalfields, Kaisarion, Spillways, Twenties, Hunter's Moon, and Griftwood.
i got very very insecure about my writing and small talents in general, mostly because,,, like i got a job doing something actually grown up. i got fired right before the temp period would expire and i would be hired full-time, so the company could hire back someone who was on leave. tbh i'm a sensitive bitch and this destroyed all self-confidence i had in myself (i do have another full-time job and i am earning income, please do not worry.)
i got messed up about my writing because i knew something was wrong, but i couldn't put my finger on it. i read a LOT of spicy books and i think i pinpointed my issue. hopefully.
i got an anon asking for more carlisle stuff, and anon if you're reading this - you're why i'm writing this. thank you so much for still thinking of me even after such a long break. i am still horny on main for carlisle. anyway, i'm housesitting for a very very dear friend right now (another amazing writer, @quizzyisdone, i hope you're having the most fun ever) and it's given me a lot of time to think, and here's what i came up with.
you are so unconditionally loved. you, reading this. you are unconditionally loved. it might seem right now that nothing is going right and the world is against you, and it will always be this way, it will always be cyclical. i don't know you, but (and believe me when I say this) i do love you. it doesn't matter. whatever reason you're thinking of as to why i don't - it doesn't matter. accept the love i am giving you and pass it on. that is your purpose, that is the reason we are all here. to love and be loved.
some new things coming soon.
i love you all, and remember: watching The Meg will not cure your fear of the ocean, no matter how much you love horror movies. it will actually make it worse.
I plan to work my way through 141 + Vaqueros + Konig in this lil series, my biggest holdup is trying to logically figure out what order they should go in and the kink assigned 😅 BUT i am working on part two now, so please watch out for that!
Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!
The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.
However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.
“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”
You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.
“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.
You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.
“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”
“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks.
You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area.
“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.
Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.
The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound.
“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.
She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?
“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next.
She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.
“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind.
“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”
“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.
“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”
“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.
Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.
“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”
“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.
“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.
“Sounds like my kind of woman.”
Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.
A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.
“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began.
“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.
“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”
Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.
“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.
“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”
You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.
“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath.
“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.
“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.
“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”
The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.
A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.
“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.
“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.
“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.
“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.
“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.
“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”
“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”
Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.
“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.”
The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.
I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.
“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.
“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.”
“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.
But your imagination always runs wild.
“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.
“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.
“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”
Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.
“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.
“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”
You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.
“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.
In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.
You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.
“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”
In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.
“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”
“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”
You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.
“Absolutely.”
You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.
“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.
When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.
“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”
“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”
“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.
“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.
“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed.
Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was.
“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.
The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.
The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.
“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.
Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.
“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.
“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted.
You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime.
“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.
“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.
His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.
“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.
“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.
“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap.
You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.
“Fuck me, Soap. Now.”
The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.
“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.”
You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.
A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.
“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.
“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.
Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.
“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.
The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:
okay
A) me when i see how many people liked Baptized By Fire (holy fuck you all are just so nice i am blown away every single time)
also i would love to give a huge thanks to my brother who def. dies a little inside when I ask him abt military stuff (for ACCURACY)
I figured I would let ya'll know what the HELL is going on bc it's been dead silent on my end (I know I'm so sorry I'm trying.) I got a better job, but unfortunately, better job means I have to focus and no more daydreaming abt fics while I'm at work :(. I'm trying to get out chapter 2 of Baptized By Fire, and I have a twilight request I would really like to get out there because it's hilarious (anon if you're reading this please know that your request was the funniest shit ever)
thank u all sm for ur patience and kindness as I work through the worst writer's block a hoe has ever seen
Request: No request no thoughts just big scary men
Summary: On a recon mission gone horribly wrong, you, Ghost, and Konig are subject to an experimental drug created by the enemy.
Word Count: 3.2k
Playlist: An Echo In The Dark
Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT, Oh my god i am so sorry, sex pollen, (dub-con because of said sex pollen.), degradation, praise, double penetration, anyone wanna go to Paris?, oral (m and f receiving),, mention of war, cursing, mentions of drugs (it's the "pollen."), choking, Google translated German, brief mention of blood
Author's note: brb going to church
A gloved hand snaked its way around your neck, and fingers tilted your head back to see Ghost leaned over you, his gaze intense. You could see why people were intimidated by him now that he was standing above you, his chest rising and falling. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, and you finally got it.
They weren't your prey.
You were theirs.
Ghost clicked his tongue as realization of your situation dawned on you.
"Ah, there we go. She got there." He whispered, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at you. "Tell us what you want, or you're not getting it."
You barely had time to think of his demand before a new kind of fire made its way into the pit of your stomach. This one wasn't painful like the last one. That was weak, sated easily by König's touch. This felt like it was devouring you from the inside out, it was razing everything in its path, and you couldn't fucking care less.
"I want the both of you." You breathed, trying to press your thighs together, only to be blocked by König's broad shoulders, and a whine clawed its way out of your throat. "I need the both of you."
A groan sounded through the room as that was all the confirmation König needed. He wrenched your pants down, the threads ripping from the force on his way, and Ghost laughed.
"You good, mate?"
"Ich kann es kaum erwarten, ich muss..." König's speech was slurred, and the feel of his breath on your inner thigh made you involuntarily buck your hips. "No. None of that." He growled, and looked up at you, placing his forearm over your stomach, effectively holding you in place. He was teasing you, and you weren't even allowed to react to it! You groaned and let your head fall back, the mere sight of König nearly sending you over the edge.
A zipper sounded above you, and before you had the chance to open your eyes, you felt König wrap his lips around your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and your mouth opened in a silent gasp at the electricity that sparked from the contact.
"Open your eyes, princess." Ghost sounded from behind you, and he lightly tapped your cheeks to get your attention. Your eyes opened to see Ghost's head tilted down at you, his pupils blown from the adrenaline. "Look at 'cha. You're already a mess."
He was right. You were a mess. König was devouring like you were his last meal on earth, his mouth wavering every so often to bite the insides of your thighs.
"You're the one... Who's about to come... Just from watching." Talking was harder than you thought, your words interrupted by your own gasps and moans. It was clear Ghost didn't appreciate your comment, as his head straightened, and his eyes narrowed at you.
"Mate, why is she still talking? Do you know why she's talking?" He spoke to König, but his eyes were still locked onto you.
"Nein." König's voice was deeper than what it normally was, he sounded almost feral. Ghost reached down, and delivered two harsh taps to your cheek.
"Open."
You simply stared up at him. He couldn't possibly... Was he insinuating? His nearly desperate struggle with his belt told you that yes, yes he was.
"Open your fucking mouth, Echo."
A harsh nip on the inside of your thigh forced your mouth open in a surprised gasp, and you were grateful for the intake of air before Ghost's cock slid into your mouth, and he rested a gloved hand on your throat. With König's arm pulling your thighs toward his face, and Ghost groaning above you, an animalistic haze began to settle in your mind.
"Fucking hell, I can..." Ghost trailed off with a groan as his hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, feeling himself. It would be a lie if you told yourself the combining feelings weren't overwhelming, but God, you couldn't get enough. The need to breathe was completely lost to you until Ghost pulled out, and stroked your burning cheeks. "Wanna take more? Can you take more?"
Honestly, you weren't sure. König's ministrations were building an upsetting amount of pressure, and tears were beginning to well in your eyes at the feeling. In lieu of a response and a decisive huff, you leaned your head back, opening your mouth and letting your tongue fall past your bottom lip. A deep growl sounded from Ghost, and his hand found its way back onto your throat as he moved his hips forward one more time, this time continuing past half of his shaft until his cock was completely buried in your throat. Fingers began to toy with your entrance, and a moan tore through your throat, vibrating around Ghost.
Within moments, you could feel the coil in you screaming to snap, and both men could tell, from the way your nails tried to find purchase in anything, and your thighs shook around König's shoulders. A brief moment of panic rang through you as Ghost's hips stuttered in his rhythmic abuse of your throat, and your muffled screams were silenced as you finally, finally felt your release crashing through you, Ghost pushed down on your throat harder, effectively ceasing any possibility of breathing as he emptied himself in your mouth, his depth forcing you to swallow around him. He pulled out of you quickly, and you coughed at the sudden rush of air to your lungs, and König's soft kisses on his bites felt distant.
Ghost's heavy breathing brought you back, and he cradled the back of your hand, looking at you like he was admiring a work of art. His work of art. Your lashes were wet with tears, and your lips were red, tingling at the sudden loss of contact.
"Back to earth, Echo. Still here?" Ghost's gruff voice was barely above a whisper, his mask moving slightly with his heavy breathing. You nodded, not entirely trusting your voice to voice your feelings, the delicious ache spreading. "Good. Take one more, you can give us one more." His hand went to your upper back, pushing you so you sat up, and the sight of König was utterly holy. His eyes were wide, staring at you like a deer in headlights. His tongue was running over his bottom lip, jaw slack and the dim lighting reflected the shine that nearly dripped off his face. The sight was enough to send another jolt through you, and when he spoke, his shoulders drooped, and he looked down.
"Ich konnte nie genug von deinem Geschmack bekommen. Du bist göttlich. Du bist göttlich." His words sounded like a prayer, like he was confessing his reverence. You reached out, and hooked his chin with your finger gently, and his eyes lifted to you. König stood, towering over you, and your hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging at it pathetically while you looked up at him through your lashes.
"Mate." Ghost spoke from next to you. "I think she wants you to get on." His hand slid up your back until it reached the nape of your neck, pulling on your hair to force your head up to König. "Stupid little thing can't use her words."
Normally, the snide comment would have sent you arguing, but he was right. There was no logical or cohesive thought behind your eyes.
"Is that true?" König's voice was dark, and he sighed, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest absolutely littered with scars. "Is it true that you're so braindead? Just from one?" His teasing tone elicited a whine, and he laughed lowly. "I have a question, maus." The nickname sent you reeling, and if you weren't dripping where you at, you were now. "I don't think this is the drug at all." König yanked his belt out of place, and set it gently next to you, pulling you by your hips closer to him so you could feel his clothed bulge against your core, and holy fuck. Even through his pants, you could feel that König was huge.
"I don't think this is the drug at all, I think you've always wanted this." Your eyebrows knit together, and you looked up at him, trying to pull yourself together enough for form a response.
"No, I-" You could barely croak out your words before you felt the head of König's cock sliding against your entrance, teasing you. Your hands grasped at his biceps, and your head fell onto his chest.
"No? You don't think so?" His voice was wickedly sinful, and the sound made you want to cry. Shame burnt in your chest, and Ghost's low chuckle behind König only exacerbated it.
"No, König-" His head barely dipped inside of you before pulling out again, and you wanted to scream.
"Aw, is she too good to beg for us?" Ghost leaned against the desk, his arms folded across his chest. König slid his hands up your back, pressing your bare chest closer to his, and the heat radiating off of him was intoxicating.
"Fuck, König, please!" It came out like a cry of devotion, but once you started, you couldn't stop. "I do, I've needed this so bad, just please!"
That seemed to be enough for König, and he slowly pushed into you, letting out his own whimper. When he bottomed out, your shaky hands dragged angry red marks down his arm, and your heaving chest rose and fell with tremoring breaths.
"I know, maus, I know. You can take more. I know you can." His tone was mockingly gentle, words whispered into the crown of your head. More? What more could there possibly be? You felt entirely too full of him, and... No fucking way. You looked down, wanting to revel in the sight, finding König seated only halfway inside you. You groaned loudly, resigned to the fate laid in front of you. König's mouth met the expanse of your neck, and nipped gently as he continued, shushing your whines. Stars began to dance in your eyes, and when he was truly fully inside you, the feeling was dizzying. He moved his lips up to yours, and the kiss was surprisingly gentle, his thumb stroking your jaw, and when he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. "Ready?"
You nodded, and barely had time to think before König was snapping his hips into yours, both hands gripping your ass, lifting you up ever so slightly. The knowledge that König was using you like a toy, along with his relentless pace was making you breathless. All of his previous restraint was gone, and a mixture of whines and growls sounded from him. You could feel your orgasm building again, and before you can say anything, it crashed over you like a tsunami, and left you mere putty in König's hands. His arms and shoulders bore zebra stripes of screaming red, blood beginning to dot the lines. König halted inside of you, groaning and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of you unraveling beneath him. König pulled out of you quickly, and stood back, his chest heaving.
"On the ground, König." Ghost called, his voice raspy, and he approached the table where you sat, taking your face in his hands. "You're gonna take the both of us, okay, princess?" You could only nod, and you inched off the table, grateful that the floor was your final destination. As soon as your feet hit the ground, your legs shook violently, and you sat, looking up at Ghost. He loomed over you, his frame blocking out the only light source in the room. König crouched, forcing eye contact when he was on your level. His hand slid up your arm as you climbed into his lap, and he leaned back, exhaling deeply as you lowered yourself onto him, the rough flooring biting at your knees.
You could hear Ghost shuffling behind you, and fingers met the connection between you and König, gathering the mess between your legs, swiping it back on your ass. His finger plunged inside, and you gasped at the intrusion, your body jolting forward into König.
"Aw, can barely take that, can ya?" Ghost's voice was mocking, and you groaned, shaking your head.
"Shh, maus." König crooned under you, his voice strained. "You can do it for us, I know you can." Ghost let out a short, cruel laugh and worked himself further into you.
"I don't know mate. Think she'll be able to take it?"
"I know she can." König mumbled, switching between German and English in a frenzy. "I know she can. She's so good. So good for us." The way they both spoke like you weren't even there lit a fire in your chest, and indignation worked its way into your brain. You found your voice, finally.
"Please, Lieutenant." You whined breathily, pulling Ghost's rank in an effort just to get him to give you what you wanted so desperately. Ghost groaned behind you, and gave your ass a light slap before you could feel him aligning his tip with your entrance. König halted his thrusting up into you to allow you to get used to the size of Ghost inside you. Thankfully, he was going slowly, but the slight burn made you collapse onto König's chest. There was no doubt about it, your Lieutenant's size was nearly unbearable, and yet you couldn't get enough of it.
The feeling of the both of them fully seated inside you made your brain completely shut down, and a König let out a shaky breath as you pushed back against Ghost, his hands in a bruising grasp on your hips. They began to move in tandem, and it wasn't long before another orgasm washed its way through you, König meeting a similar fate. His cock twitched inside you, but he made no effort to remove himself as Ghost used you to chase his second high of the night. A hand trailed up your back, wrapping fingers in your hair and tugging, your broken moans echoing throughout the room. Just when you could feel black encroaching your vision, and your knees began to give out, Ghost's rhythm faltered once more, and he halted inside you, emptying himself with a moan you were sure you were going to remember forever.
The three of you stayed like that for a minute. Every part of you ached, and the intense heat and discomfort from before was replaced with a dull pain between your legs, and the telltale signs of a headache were approaching. Ghost tapped your back, signaling that he was going to pull out, and he did so agonizingly slow, your body twitching below him. König followed, his massive arms wrapping around your frame, pressing a soft kiss to your sweat-covered forehead.
"Did so well, maus, you did so well for us." He whispered his praises, peppering kisses on your face. Your head was absolutely swimming, and every word spoken went in one ear and out the other, A piece of cloth dabbed at your face, and you realized Ghost was using his shirt to wipe your face of the sweat and tears that stained.
Dressed. You have to get dressed. You have to get up and leave.
Just the thought of standing was nearly painful, and you slowly got there, König's hand under your arm to help you. Your legs shook aggressively, and he chuckled. You leaned against the table, and to your shock, Ghost began to help you with your clothes, beginning to slide on your pants. You'd never seen this side of Ghost before, and to be honest, you weren't sure it existed until now. Once you were relatively clothed, you sighed.
"How are we gonna explain this?" Your voice cracked, and König's eyes went wide.
"I... Uh, scheiße, I have no idea."
"You both are useless. We were hit with an unknown gas, Echo got sick, so we decided to wait it out before calling exfil." Ghost plugged his earpiece back into the communication device, and spoke into it, relaying the information, and switching it off again. "We'll be out of here in 30. Let's go."
You followed his direction silently, but your mind was racing with questions. How would you navigate being around him on base? You weren't around König as much, so that wasn't a huge concern. Would you ever be able to look at him and not think of the time he came in your throat? You resigned yourself to your fate of ignoring the two as much as possible. Try to forget what happened.
When you exited the room, you scooped down to pick up your once-abandoned gear, and sighed as you strapped in, your eyes once more adjusting to the cold, dark hallways. König nudged you, and picked up his hood, shooting you a concerned look.
"You want to say something." He stated simply, his eyes glancing up as you walked, trying desperately to ignore the dull ache.
"I just..." Should you be honest? Ask outright how to navigate this? "How do y'all want me to, like, be?"
Ghost stopped in his tracks, turning around to face you silently, and König tilted his head to one side. You continued, "Is this something we keep a secret, do you want me to forget about it... What do you want me to do?"
"Absolutely fucking not." Ghost's response was almost immediate. "I don't know about this one, but I am not letting you go now. Not unless you want me to, but," He stepped closer to you, the eye contact he was forcing was almost dizzying. "It seems like you don't want me to."
And he was right. That one fact, exposed like a raw nerve, hung in the air.
"Hope you know how to share your toys." König spoke, ruffling your already fucked hair, and the scrunch of his eyes told you that he was smiling under the mask. Ghost exhaled, turning back around.
"I guess I'll have to be, huh? Get on, we need to get the fuck out of here."
Ich kann es kaum erwarten, ich muss...
"I can't wait, I have to..."
Ich konnte nie genug von deinem Geschmack bekommen. Du bist göttlich. Du bist göttlich.
"I could never get enough of your taste. You are godlike. You are godlike."
AH FECK OKAY no listen yall i have been sitting on that for WEEKS. I double pinky promise I will be finishing An Echo In The Dark soon, and then I'll probably throw somethin back for my Twilight hoes (y'all know I have major heart eyes and i swear i have not forgotten my roots)
BUT i have created a wattpad! this is where i'll try to update Baptized By Fire, since the formatting for multi-chapter stuff is just a bit easier on there, and it's a little simpler for user interaction as well. okay uhh thanks love yall bye and remember: i am so proud of each and every single one of you <3 no matter how little you think you've done, I'm simply so proud of you and happy you're here. thank you for allowing me that happiness!
Story Summary: Reader loses themselves to the mission - Ghost brings them back.
Chapter Summary: On your first specialized mission with Ghost and Soap, you were praying for everything to go right. Whether the idea was a sick joke or naivety, you did what you had to do to survive. Unfortunately, all actions have consequences.
Word Count: 2.8k
Song/Playlist:
Author's Note: Reader's callsign is Corpse! I got the idea for this fic by some ad I saw with these really cool titanium fangs, so I saw that and I was like yo lemme steal that rq so yeah I imagine reader having those but I don't really think it's necessary to the story! This is gonna be my first multi-chapter thing so I hope I can get everyone hooked bc LORRRDDDD the amount of stuff I have planned for this!
"When did intel say this guy was going to show up?" Soap grunted next to you, his rough voice teetering on the edge of being whiny. You knew the answer, everyone did. Three hours ago, a truck loaded with international weapons smugglers should have pulled outside of the house that you were sheltered in. The town had seen its last inhabitant months ago, right when this group began using it as a trading post. You were supposed to be in exfil by... Now, actually.
Ghost had parked himself in a barely-lit corner of the room, leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. You wondered, every so often, if he was actually asleep, but when he ran through the motions of checking his gun, you were reminded of exactly who he was. Ghost would never fall asleep on a mission, no matter how late it was running.
"I'm going up to the second floor." You finally sighed. "Gonna see if I can scope anything out." You used to opportunity to stretch your legs - you had stayed crouched for so long, and the cold simply was not helping. And the longer you were in the presence of Ghost, the more your mind ran wild, and the overwhelming desire to impress him got worse and worse as time went on. Soap said nothing, and Ghost simply nodded at you.
Well, good enough.
The stairs were old, and it felt like they were screaming your presence when they creaked under your footsteps. As you walked past, the memories that this house once held were clear at every footstep. Picture frames of the family, forgotten behind, had dust collecting on the frames, and various pieces of artwork littered the walls, varying from classic Kahlo to children's messy fingerpainting. You pushed the door to each room open, trying to buy time by yourself. Each room was more or less the same - dresser, bed, window. Maybe a tapestry here and there.
You kneeled in front of a large, busted out window at the end of the hall, pulling binoculars out of your bag, and settling in. You held the binoculars up and sighed. Still the same landscape you've been staring at for the past three hours. The same faded market signs, dead outdoor plants and... Different SUV. You don't remember that being there, parked in an alleyway between two businesses. The windows were tinted dark, almost completely blacked out, so the hope of seeing anything inside was dashed.
The low, hushed voices of Soap and Ghost downstairs met your ears. You should tell them about the car. See something, say something, right? Part of you slightly resented the connection they had, but they've been working together for years. Countless missions and days together. These were your early days in Task Force 141, and this was your third mission with them. First mission using a specialized group like this, which is exactly why is was extra important that you didn't fuck up.
An uneasy feeling locked in your chest, and you stood, electing to rejoin the two of them. You shouldn't be alone, especially if a fight was about to break out.
"Contact!" Ghost's rough voice cut through the quiet, and almost as if on cue, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around your mouth and torso, setting off every single danger alarm your body had. Your vision darkened from the panic, and your desperate attempt to free yourself was going mostly unnoticed. The small point of pressure in your back told you that the barrel of a gun was pressed into your spine.
"Stop fucking fighting. They're not coming for you." A low, vaguely Eastern European voice growled into your ear before pulling you back into a random room. It was familiar, one of the parent's rooms, you'd assumed.
How did they get in? How the fuck did they get in without you noticing?
The window. The busted out windows in every room of the house. They came around the back entrance, and Ghost and Soap are about to be ambushed. Your eyes widened at the realization, and the man in front you smiled. Your target. This was him. Along with three other men, your outlook did not look good.
Panic clawed its way into your throat, but nonetheless, you made an effort to keep your face as stoic as possible. Your target leaned against the now-shut door of the room, and the sound of gunshots was echoing throughout the house.
"You are the one they call Corpse?" He looked you up and down, and gestured to one of his men. "Take her gun. And the knife. Scream, and I'll kill you and your friends." They followed his direction immediately, and the hand that was once around your mouth was removed. "Do you understand the situation you're in?" He was speaking to you like you were a child, and anger licked at your chest. Yes, obviously you understood the situation. You were trapped, with no chance of fighting, no weapons, and no way to communicate. You felt like a cornered dog, surrounded by people you know would kill you in a heartbeat.
You simply nodded, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek so hard, the metallic taste of blood was leaking into your throat.
Your target walked around the room, almost casually, and he smiled at the floor.
"There is a way for you to walk out of this alive, you know." He stopped, his back to the window. "Your force is rather... Mysterious. You come with us, and answer my questions. Any question I have, willingly. You'll be answering either way. The only question is how I'll be able to get you there." He smiled at you, like you two were having a pleasant conversation about world affairs.
The memory of Ghost's voice echoed in your head. "Don't let anyone take you to a second location. No matter what they are promising, they will kill you."
They will kill you. They want to kill you. They will hurt you. They will hurt Ghost and Soap, and who knows who else. You felt like a cornered animal, and all you could hear were gunshots and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You spoke for the first time in a while, and your own voice was unrecognizable to you.
"Fine."
And with that, your vision went black.
"See any more?" Soap's ragged breathing cut through his words, and Ghost's eyes were still trained on the street. Enemy bodies littered the world outside, and his vision was still adjusting to the world outside the scope of his rifle.
"No movement." Ghost finally put his weapon down, slightly grateful that the mission was over so they could all finally go back to base.
"Would've been easier with some fuckin' help." Soap grumbled, and cast a glance up at the stairs where he last saw your retreating back. Ghost didn't take a second thought about you going to scope out the landscape, he knew you were nervous around him, and in his chest, he felt a pang of regret. He could've been nicer to you, talked to you a little bit more, but he simply had no idea how to navigate his feelings around you. You simply showed up to base one day, and that was that for him. At first, he thought you were... Slightly aggravating. How easily you became friends with the Task Force, the sunshine that radiated out of you... He figured that you must not have seen that much war if you were still that damn happy.
It was difficult for Ghost to accept that he was wrong about your skills. At the firing range, in hand to hand combat, in everything, you were just ever-so-slightly better than him, and he tried to let some of his feelings known through the small things, like allowing you to enter a room before him, or simply sitting next to you during debriefings.
A resounding thud pulled him out of his thoughts, and immediately, his head whipped toward the direction, his heart sinking in his chest.
"Corpse, status!" Soap shouted, and his command was only met with silence. Before Ghost could think, he was on his feet and creeping up the stairs silently, his weapon at the ready. Soap followed closely behind, knowing that if Ghost was doing this, it was for damn good reason. A noise echoed through the house, and out onto the street, and both men stopped dead in their tracks. A scream, so guttural, animalistic, and angry pierced the air, and it chilled Ghost to the bone. He had heard a lot of noises during war, but none he heard were like this.
Of all the doors in that hallway, only one was closed, and Ghost nodded toward it. Soap and him stood on opposite sides of the door, and Ghost's heartbeat was racing as he thought about what could be on the other side of this door. You could be injured, dead, or worst of all, gone altogether. The door creaked open, and the sight that lay in front of them caused Soap and Ghost to freeze.
You were standing over four dead bodies, carnage spread around the room. Your uniform was covered in blood, and your hands and face had the same fate. Blood dripped from your chin, and your teeth were bared, a low noise emitting from your mouth as your chest rose and fell rapidly. The one fact they couldn't ignore: Every single body in that room had their throats shredded into oblivion.
"Corpse?" Soap spoke softly, the horror in his voice being poorly masked, but Ghost couldn't take his eyes off you. You were shaking, and the usual light that was in your eyes was gone, replaced by brutality and viciousness. Ghost handed his gun to Soap, wanting it clear out of the way if you decided to attack him as well. He stepped forward, the bottom of his boots leaving bloody footprints on the way to you. His grip on your chin forced you to look at him.
"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier."
"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier." Ghost's voice was the only clear thing in your mind, and you felt like you had just woken up from a very long nap. Your mind was hazy, and you focused on Ghost's eyes searching yours for any hint of remaining humanity. The last thing you remember: The target advancing toward you with a knife. That was it.
"Ghost, I- The target-" Your voice shook, and you finally took note of your surroundings. The target in question was long dead, sat against his wall, and his neck- "Oh, my God." As soon as your eyes set on the carnage in the room, Ghost wrapped his hand around your arm and began pulling you.
"No, don't look. Don't look." His hand came around your eyes, so the only think you could see was a slight hint of the blood-stained floor. Soap said nothing as Ghost led you out of the room, down the stairs, and into the freezing air. When you were outside, Ghost unclipped your helmet, and Soap rounded the corner.
"What the fuck was that massacre, Corpse?"
You wracked your brain for a good explanation, a hint of any memory that would allow you to explain something that you simply cannot remember, and you came up dead empty.
"I- I don't know, I can't remember." Your voice was small, almost lost to the wind blowing through the town. You had never seen Soap upset, and his response certainly wasn't helping your confusion.
"You don't know?" He looked at you incredulously. "You don't know how you... You tore open their throats?"
"No! I don't know! I can't remember!" You wished you could lie to him. You wished you could remember any minor detail of what happened, but after the target came at you, the only thing you remember is Ghost bringing you back.
The bright headlights of a familiar van approached, and you jumped at the sudden brightness.
"Soap, that's exfil. Get in the car and tell them to wait." Ghost's low tone was commanding, and Soap could only sigh and place himself in the passenger seat, undoubtedly already coming up with a mission report.
"Corpse, focus on me." Your eyes left the van, and Ghost had placed himself directly in front of you, so there was nowhere to look but in his eyes. "Do you or do you not remember what happened?" The intensity at which he spoke made you want to cry, the fear of disappointing him feeling real.
"No, I- I don't remember anything. All I can remember is him coming at me with a knife, and the other three guys, they said they would hurt you and Soap, and they wanted to take me somewhere else, but you told me to never go to a second location, and I just... I don't know."
"Hush, love, I believe ya. Did they hurt you?" His hand moved to grasp your bicep, and you looked down at the ground.
"No, I don't think so. I'm not sure."
Ghost sighed, and looked back at the vehicle.
"Right, then. We'll get ya checked out, just in case, okay? Come on." He began walking, but stopped when he realized you weren't following him.
"Ghost, did I-" You took a shaky breath, your question stuck in your throat. "Did I fuck up? Am I going to be kicked out?" Ghost stared at you, your question hanging in the air, until he took a step toward you.
"Corpse, you killed our target. And then some. You won't be kicked out for completing a mission. Price might tell you have to see some kind of psychiatrist or therapist, but that's it. That's all, I promise. Now, you're going to get in the van, we're going to go back to base, and you're gonna shower. Get to."
There was no arguing with Ghost, you knew that. You knew he was right, but that still didn't stop the little fire of annoyance lighting in your chest, and it was made worse that you didn't know what you were annoyed more by - The fact that he was so confident about the hypothetical outcome, or the thought of having to re-explain the situation to your Captain. You sighed as you wrenched open the back door of the car, the copper scent of your actions filling the enclosed space.
The ride back to base was quiet, the radio occasionally tuning in to a random station, speaking in a language you had no hope of understanding. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon, an orange glow cast on the landscape, and you sighed at the sun hitting your face, the feeling unmatched after being submerged in darkness for what felt like forever.
A few hours had passed, and Soap's snoring in the front seat was almost peaceful. You hadn't dared sneak a look at your Lieutenant - you weren't sure what curdled your heart more, the thought of him staring at you in disgust or disappointment, or worse, not at all. When the car passed through the security checkpoint for the base you called home, you couldn't seem to focus on one problem or thought at a time. Finally, the car stopped, and the growling engine cut off. Ghost gave Soap a rough shove to his shoulder, startling the man awake.
"Soap. Go." Ghost's voice seemed almost impossibly rougher after staying silent for hours. Soap cast you a remorseful look before exiting the vehicle, along with the driver. Anxiety held its place in the base of your throat, the scent of blood suddenly was drowning you, and your hands shook as you began to fidget with the seatbelt latch. "Corpse. Captain wants to speak with you."
Ha. You're fired. You're so fired. Your one passion, the one thing you know you were born to do-. "You're not in trouble. He just wants to know what happened." Ghost sighed, and pressed his thumb into the latch, releasing your seatbelt. "Damn it, soldier, fuckin' look at me when I talk to you." His voice immediately took on a harsher infliction, and you stared up at him, reminded of what exactly your relationship is to him - he is a Lieutenant, you are a Sergeant. Nothing more. "Obviously..." Ghost's eyes looked you up and down. "Get showered first." Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.
"Yes, sir." When your boots made contact with the ground, it felt like the weight of... Everything collapsed on your shoulders. The sun felt too bright, your gear heavy and sticky, and Ghost's eyes boring holes into the back of your head all combined into the worst storm possible. You shook your head, your own eyes trained on the ground in front of you as you walked to your barracks. Just keep it together until you're alone. All you have to do is make it to your room. That's all. Don't fall apart until you're there.
Need your Price and Ghost training reader how to fight. Teacher her how use her small size to her advantage, their hands wrapped around her waist, a hand pressed flat to her core muscles, bicep, or her thighs tell her what muscles to use. Their hands sometimes linger a little too long, a little to close to a sensitive spot. She trying her best to keep her composure but it’s hard after losing a sparing match. Being pinned under ghost, his hands pinning her wrists beside her head on her back, slotting himself in between her thighs. They have been so patient and finally they are rewarded with a whimper, a plea for them to stop teasing her.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x afab F!Reader x Captain John Price
a/n: I love Ghost x reader x Price stuff because those two would be the cockiest mother fuckers. They would just try to out do each other while having perfect teamwork to achieve the goal of ruining their partner.
Ghost asks, “you ready, sergeant?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, L.t,” you answer. You were, in fact, not ready. Even several feet away that man was intimidating. Almost six and a half feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. You were approaching the end of your medical leave. Price put you out of commission after an incident in the field.
A violent tussle turned into you clawing at an enemy’s forearm as they choked you from behind. Your relief only came after the sound of two suppressed bullets whizzed past your head. As the enemy’s body dropped, they took you down with them.
You struggled to breathe until Captain Price pulled you up. Ghost decided to crack a joke.
“Breathe easy, sergeant.”
Always a comedian.
Days later and your throat still feels sore. You were a recon specialist, you were trained to be quick and nimble. Your job was to never be seen in the first place. Let alone get into a hand to hand fight. You were so good at your job, in fact, that your hand to hand skills were a bit lacking now.
Ghost offered to give you a refresher on sparring with a larger opponent. You were a bit hesitant to practice with him, but Captain Price overheard. He decided you wouldn’t be allowed back into the field until you passed inspection.
So here you are: sanitizing the padded floor of a practice sparring room. You’re wearing standard black sweatpants and a black tank top. Both of you are barefoot. Ghost opted for similar pants, his “casual” skull balaclava, and a tight, black t-shirt. It felt scandalous to see so much of his arms.
The other reason you were hesitant to do this was your embarrassing attraction to most of your squad. It wasn’t uncommon. Put a bunch of attractive people in peak physical condition in close quarters and something is bound to happen.
You just feel a bit embarrassed because, right now, that crush is front and center. You have no idea if he even finds you attractive.
You think to yourself, “focus, girl. Stop looking at his arms.” It’s very difficult when he crosses them in front of his chest. He jostles his head side to side and an audible pop or two erupts from his neck joints.
Ghost does not hold back. You are getting your ass handed to you.
“You have to keep your arms close,” he says. He has your wrist pinned behind your back. He knows how to twist the arm just enough for it to hurt. “If the enemy gets a hold of your arm, you’re done for.”
You struggle against his grip. All of your training from years ago is wiped from your mind every time his skin brushes against your neck or shoulders. Hopefully you never develop a crush on the enemy.
He only has you pinned with one hand, he places the other on your hip and nudges you at an angle.
“Shift your weight like this to use my own weight against me.”
You push your body just the way he demonstrated. Moving to the side and dropping down in an attempt to pull him with you. You are able to slip away as you twist yourself to the side. Ghost falls the other way. He’s not fazed at all and even seemed to be leaning into it for your benefit. But still, you did it.
“Quite good,” he remarks as he pats you on the shoulder. The rough texture of his gloves sends a shiver down your spine. “Now if only you can do that without my help.” He rolls his head and it lifts his mask up enough to reveal a bit of his neck. How does such a small amount of skin seem so scandalous? He cracks his knuckles once more. “Again.”
Now that he’s taught you a few more disarming techniques he stopped holding back. He twists and pins your body in more ways that you can count. Anytime you feel his skin brush against yours you feel your blush deepen. Thank god you can just blame it on exertion.
Surprisingly, Ghost is very positive. You expected him to be a hardass, but during this lesson there is only praise or orders to try again.
“Good.”
“Again.”
“Better.”
“On your feet.”
“That’s it.”
It’s maddening. Sometimes he speaks right into your ear. You’re losing focus the longer this goes on. There are even times he slots his leg between yours to really limit your movement. Once you tried to leverage your weight and break free, but you ended up just grinding against his thigh. It sent a shockwave through your body. You almost blurt out an incredibly embarrassing noise.
You are losing your mind.
You're pulled down onto your knees. Ghost’s forearm is wrapped around the front of your neck. Your upper body is pulled against his chest and one of his legs is settled between yours. It’s a struggle to breathe.
Your entire body is hot. You look down and take in details in his tattoo you’ve never seen this close. Every contour of his chest is pressed against your back. You’re adrenaline heightening everything. It’s becoming a struggle to breathe. You could tap out. You should tap out.
But, you don’t.
You are savoring this moment.
“Lesson’s going well, innit?” Captain Price’s voice echoes against the walls and rubber mat. Ghost releases his grip and you topple forward. You catch yourself with your forearms before you faceplant into the mat.
“She’s improving,” Ghost answers, “but still not quite good enough.”
You get on all fours to collect yourself. Great, if Price doesn’t see enough improvement then you’ll stay benched. You’re already unprofessionally horny and feeling the scrutinizing gaze of your captain isn’t going to make things much better.
Captain Price grabs a fold-up chair and sits near the wall with his arms crossed. Ghost attempts to grab and maneuver your body. You are getting better, but exhaustion is settling in. You swear he’s situating his leg between yours more. Or maybe you’re losing it and he isn’t purposely pulling you down onto that thigh. It caught you off guard and you were barely able to choke back a very undignified noise.
You were mortified, but Ghost acted none the wiser.
“Something wrong, sergeant?” He asks. You catch your breath and rub the back of your neck to collect yourself.
“Just getting tired, L.t.” You pray that he accepts that excuse. The truth is utterly embarrassing.
“You’re more vulnerable when you’re tired, right sergeant?” Price is walking up behind you. You’re so on edge that every footstep makes your body tense. “Means you should be even more on guard, right?”
“Yes, sir,” you answer.
To prove his point, Price grabs your wrist and twists your arm behind your back. Not enough to really hurt, but there is a dull pain. You feel the rough fabric of his clothes brush against your shoulders. You hold back another unprofessional noise and pray they think it’s just discomfort.
“I need water,” you say. You desperately need a break from the most insane unintentional foreplay you’ve ever experienced. Hopefully you can end this soon and just go to town on yourself in the privacy of your room or in a shower stall.
You empty your water bottle in one go. Uncaring that a considerate amount is dripping past your lips, down your chin, and onto your chest. You’re gasping as you finish it. The cool water only offers temporary relief because the moment you look back you see Price and Ghost staring at you.
Ghost asks, “ready to go again?” Christ, he doesn’t sound like he’s talking about sparring lessons. You need to get this over with and get out of this room with these men. You shake yourself back into focus and crack your knuckles.
Ghost waits until you plant your feet into the mat and nod to signal you’re ready. After all this time, he’s still so fucking quick. You manage to duck away from his first swipe, but that was just a fake out. You already committed to the dodge and weren't prepared for his leg to catch you off guard. You trip to the side and stumble. Next thing you know, Ghost has a hand gripping your waist and he pulls you down to the floor.
You crack. Ghost has your chest pinned to the floor, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head, and one of his knees is pressed into the mat. And it just so happens that knee is between both of your legs.
You try, you really tried to use the techniques you’ve learned. A simple twist of your upper body momentarily freed your wrists, but that accidentally made you grind against Ghost’s leg. You lost all concentration and he pinned you back down.
You tried squeezing your legs together in order to lose balance on that knee and flip him over, but there was that same problem. The moment you tense your core and squeezed your leg a hot spike ran right through your body and it started to ache between your legs.
How was sparring the best foreplay you’ve ever experienced? This was a sign it’s been way too long. You needed to get out of here.
“P—please,” you whimper into the floor mat.
“Hmmm?” replies Ghost. “What’s that sergeant?”
“Speak up, love,” orders Price. He squats down by your head to be able to hear you better.
“Tell me If this is a sick game.” You are trying to breathe evenly. Your nipples are stiff and any squirming rubs your body against the mat. “If it is, please let me go.” You turn your head to the side as much as possible and are greeted by a very amused captain and a seemingly amused Ghost.
Ghost replies, “I’ve never known Captain John Price to make jokes.”
“Lieutenant Simon Riley likes to joke around,” Price adds. “But, he doesn't play games.” Ghost pushes his leg between your thigh, even that slight added pressure makes you moan. There’s no use hiding it, these two have been messing with you since they brought up the idea of sparring practice.
“There she is,” says Price. “Was wondering how long you were going to hold out.” There’s no need to hold back, so you squirm against Ghost’s leg. He figures you out very quickly and pulls back. You let out a frustrated whine.
“Easy, love,” he reassures.
“Not fair,” you protest.
“Maybe if you didn’t tease us with that water break we’d be more inclined to play fair.”
“I wasn’t—!”
Price cuts you off, “a likely story, that is. Right, Simon?” You whine again as Ghost adjusts his grip on your wrist. You swear you can hear him chuckling behind you.
“This one’s more used to subterfuge,” he remarks. “That’s why she’s in this predicament.”
You weren’t paying attention when Price walked away, but you could feel the mat shifting as he approached. He brought a chair over, but he just places it down a few feet away and then closes the gap.
“I’ve got her, lieutenant,” he says as he takes your wrists from Ghost. He keeps you pinned to the mat as Ghost separates himself from your body. Price’s touch is searing. You wonder if he always runs a bit hotter than most, or if you’ve been affecting them like they affected you.
“This alright, love?” Ghost asks as his fingers lightly touch your waist..
You frantically nod into the padded floor. Price’s grip tightens.
“Use your words,” he orders. “Your L.t. just asked you a question.” They are both addressing each other by rank. As if to double down on how forbidden this is.
“Yes, sir,” you answer breathlessly. Half of your face is still pressed into the mat, but you can see Price raise his eyebrows. Price lets go of your wrists and moves backwards to sit on the chair he pulled up. You try not to stare at the tent in his pants.
Before you can pretend you aren’t ogling your captain Ghost lifts your upper body off the floor. He speaks directly into your ear.
“Your captain is waiting.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”
“I will,” you answer. “I promise.”
“Good girl.”
Those two words begin to melt the world around you. The three of you have hardly done anything, yet you can feel your mind slipping into a haze. All you crave is praise from these two men you admire. Ghost helps brace you on all fours before gently nudging you towards your captain.
You should be embarrassed crawling on all fours to kneel in front of Price. He’s trying to contain his smug expression, but failing. He twiddles his fingers like he wishes he had a cigar to smoke as you debase yourself in front of him.
Without warning, Ghost is behind you, leaning forward, and gently holding your jaw. When you weren’t looking he took off his gloves.
“Well?” He asks. “You said you’ll take care of him.”
You lean forward and lift your hands to Price’s belt. He scoots forward in the chair to give you better access. You fail at not ogling his hard cock tenting in his pants. Your hands eagerly pull up his shirt and help spring his cock free from his pants.
Your throat bobs as you swallow. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but now you’re worried you’re in over your head. You look up and see Price tipping his hat with a nod. It’s encouraging.
You lower your head and Price hisses as your tongue tentatively licks his cock.
Your hand squeezes the base of his cock. You swirl your tongue around the tip and relish his body shuddering. You almost want to ask if you're ending a dry spell. You want to be a bit cruel and tease him. Use your scrap of power against the man that’s been messing with you since he stepped into the room.
You can’t help yourself. You give in and slowly envelope his cock with your eager mouth. One hand holds onto the base of the shaft while the other presses into his thigh for support. You slowly lower your lips to try and take as much of him as you can.
Your captain lets out an undignified, guttural noise. It’s the most encouraging noise he’s ever made. You focus on his uneven breathing and watch his abdomen twitch.
Silently, Price grabs your hand and places it firmly on his thigh. He gives your hand a firm squeeze and then two pats. His other hand lifts your chin and he looks at you waiting. You tap his thigh twice. He nods in response. It's a signal, your captain is making sure you know you can tap out at any time. He really does think of everything.
You find your rhythm. Price places a hand behind the base of your head. He doesn’t push or pull. The soft pressure is comforting. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, squeezing and sucking slowly at first. When you press your tongue flat against the underside of his head his grip on the back of your head tightens.
You feel powerful. Captain John Price is becoming putty in your hands. You get the feeling this is the only scrap of power you'll have between the two of them.
You freeze when you feel Ghost's fingers dip inside the waistband of your sweatpants. It takes you a moment to realize he is also asking for permission. Maybe he noticed your hesitation or he's just a gentleman.
You shake your hips just enough for Ghost to get the message. He pulls your pants and underwear down to your knees. His hand slowly teases and moves up your thigh. The slightest touch at your center makes you accidentally gag on Price’s cock.
“Fuck—ing hell.” His voice almost sounded melodic. His fingers press against your clit and tease your folds. You are grateful that your mouth is stuffed, if not your sounds would be echoing off the walls.
“What is it, Ghost?”
“Fuckin’ soaked,” he replies. “You can hear it right, mate?” His fingers quickly tease and a wet sound reaches your ears. Your face feels hot as embarrassment overwhelms you.
“I hear it,” Price replies. “We should have pinned her down earlier. Poor thing was so worked up.”
“Yeah, poor thing,” Ghost echoes.
Ghost pushes his fingers inside and you let out another muffled moan. His fingers stretch and tease you in ways you haven’t felt in so long. You’ve only had fleeting privacy and your own hands for months. And his hands are so much larger than yours.
All you can do to distract yourself from this shame is focusing on getting Price’s cock further down your throat. When your body resists and you gag, Price's hand is there. His thumb softly stroking the base of your skull. It drives you to push harder, ignore the phantom pain from your injury and take someone’s cock deeper than before.
Ghost’s fingers find that sweet spot and your legs begin to tremble. You feel that pressure building at an embarrassing rate.
Your body tightens and you pull your mouth off of Price’s cock.
“Please,” you gasp. “Oh fuck.”
“That’s it, love,” Price encourages. He takes over and leisurely strokes his cock as he watches you come undone. Pathetic please spill from your mouth as you attempt to push your hips back to encourage Ghost.
“C’feel you getting tight, love,” Ghost remarks. He sounds so full of himself as he states the obvious. "Just like that."
It builds and builds. Ghost’s fingers move faster and get more precise. His ability to assess a firefight in a moment is now focused on the small tells of your body. Which maneuvers make you moan or lean more on Price’s legs.
Speaking of Price, your ears ring when you hear his low moans. When you move your tongue in just the right way his grip tightens. His burning blue eyes looking down at you with adoration. Even the smallest things between these two men build and threaten to overwhelm you.
It’s too much. You have to lift your head and free your mouth in order to breathe. You look up at Price with pleading eyes, hoping that he can forgive you for letting him down.
“That’s it,” he encourages.
You shut your eyes tight, hands squeeze Price’s thighs as you attempt to bite back your moans.
"Fucking hell," admires Ghost, "That's what she sounds like?"
"We should do this more often, L.t."
Before that wave of pleasure fades, you feel the tip of Ghost’s cock pressing against your cunt. You try to look back and nod. You can’t speak, but he needs to know that you want everything right now. The moment he sees your consent, he fully thrusts inside. His hips slap against your ass and you let out a weak cry. You were unprepared for him to go so deep so fast.
Then he starts to thrust. Your hands tighten their grip on Price’s thighs as you struggle to find any leverage against his onslaught.
“Don’t forget about me, love,” says Price. His fingers thread into your hair and he encourages you to suck his cock again. He plants his hand on the back of your head. You only get a moment to brace yourself before they start to use you.
You feel like you’re melting. Overstimulated and hot. You maybe imagined what would it would be like fucking either of these men separately. But this? Never in your wildest dreams could you imagine getting double teamed by two superiors. Feeling so full as both men reach deeper than your body is used to.
A haze falls over you as everything besides this moment melts away. You eagerly get pulled into their rhythm. Mind blank and body eager; moaning constantly because now your body is somehow craving more.
“We were concerned she couldn’t handle us,” Price says to Ghost. “Maybe we can’t satisfy her.”
“Greedy little thing,” he replies. They are talking about you like you’re not even there. You don't care. As long as they do not stop.
“Should call Mactavish to give us a hand.” You let out an involuntary moan that you wished you could hide. You look up and see that cocky look on your captain’s face grow. He licks his lips before continuing this train of thought. “Garrick would treat her right.”
“Reyes might want a taste,” Ghost replies.
“König’s been eyeing her for a while.”
You shut your eyes tight and moan around Price’s cock. Your knees tremble as scandalous images flash through your mind. These two keep listing more men than you have holes. It’s scandalous, utterly obscene. On and on, they talk about you and what they want to try. You attempt to make a mental list, but it flows past you so quickly.
Price holds your head by the base of your skull. His hips lifting up off the chair slightly to get even deeper into your throat.
“That’s it,” he encourages. His cool demeanor is starting to crack. His voice is getting rough and breathing is becoming more uneven. “Just like that. Do you want it?”
You can’t nod without slowing your momentum. So, you resort to looking up and moaning around his cock. You try to memorize the sight of his flushed cheeks and the rough heaving of his chest. It’s the most desperate you’ve ever seen him.
His grip on the back of your head tightens and you see his body seize. You have to close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. When you feel that first spurt of cum hit the back of your throat you moan unabashedly to encourage him. It’s almost too much. You struggle to breathe as you fail to swallow his cum. There’s just no room left at the entrance of your throat to take in more.
You push yourself until you can't take it. You have to lift your head with a dramatic gasp to get some air. When Price seems to be finished, you lean forward and thoroughly lick his cock clean.
He hisses softly when you find an incredibly sensitive area.
When you're satisfied with your work, you rest your head against Price’s thigh as Ghost picks up his pace. You let out a pathetic moan when his finger digs into your hips hard enough to bruise. You bite your lower lip to suppress the sounds no longer suppressed by your captain's cock.
"Don't hold back," orders Price. His thumb wipes the sum and saliva drips down your chin.
You can’t. Ghost's grunts reverberate in your head. The fabric of his pants brushing against your legs. Now that he doesn't have to worry about Price, his thrusts get rough.
"Please." Your voice is weak, but the message is clear.
"Sound bloody amazing when you beg," Ghost replies. Praise slips out of him between staccato pants that are more than exhaustion. Was everyone ending a dry spell today?
"She looks amazing too," says Price. "You should see the look in her eyes."
"S'looks great from this angle too." He punctuates his point with a firm grip on your ass. A dull slap rings out, but it's quiet compared to your choked up cries.
Your nails dig into Price's pants as you struggle for any leverage. Your body was already worn out before this mess started and now your mind is fading too. You're running on pure instinct and need.
"Fuck," he spits out. "Where?"
"Don’t stop," you blurt out. You're no longer capable of rational thought. You're on birth control, but you weren't even thinking about it. Right now your body is craving to be filled. "Please."
Ghost must be in a similar position. The moment you plead his hips stutter and he pulls your hips as close as possible to his. Price's nails scrap your scalp and you feel that tightness in your core snap.
"Take it all, love," Price orders.
You do; you need to. Ghost sounds heavenly as he groans and gasps while he tries to fill you completely. Hips rolling against his as your body chases this high, draw your orgasm out a bit more, get him a bit deeper.
“Please,” you whimper again. It’s all you can give before your body starts to feel heavy. Ghost pulls slowly and you wish you could beg him not to. You feel empty despite your contentment.
"Absolutely marvelous." Price caresses your jaw and you return a weak smile.
"Fucking perfection, love," adds Ghost. His strong hands gently knead your ass. You feel his cum slowly drip down your thighs.
You sigh, "thank you, sir."
"Don't thank us just yet, love," says Price. He lifts your jaw so you have to look him in the eyes.
"Let's get you cleaned up," says Ghost. He lifts your panties and pants back up over your hips.
Ghost pulls you with him as he stands up. He’s your rock as you attempt to stabilize yourself. You feel his cum ooze out of your cunt and it makes your stomach flip. When you breathe you still taste your captain’s cum, like it’s stained the back of your throat.
“You can handle more, right?”
You feel tainted from the inside out. You should be satisfied, but your body is burning for more. These men are in the middle of rewiring your brain. On the way to the door you stumble, falling against Ghost’s chest instead of falling to the floor.
“Got you, love,” he whispers. He leans down and lifts your chin. Your mouth is so close to his and a new feeling is blooming in your stomach.
“Simon, please.” You wipe your thumb over his mask across his lips. The look in his eyes changes after hearing his name; not his title or nickname. His eyes quickly flick over to Price making sure the room is squared away.
He deftly lifts his mask over his mouth and leans in for a kiss. You sink into it, this moment of tenderness in the middle of being battered by two storms. You sigh against his chapped lips. It’s nothing like before, but you needed something to ground yourself.
“Getting sweet on her, lieutenant?” Asks Price as he approaches. Ghost lifts his head and pulls his mask back down.
“Keeping her steady, mate.” Ghost holds you steady as you push yourself off of him and attempt to stand. Hopefully you can walk without it being obvious that Ghost fucked you or that you sucked your captain’s dick. When you can walk, Ghost gives you a pat on the shoulder. He looks at you before he unlocks and opens the door. "We're not done with you."
