content warning! dominant gender neutral reader, sub male character, feminization, use of pet names, cum play if you squint, fingering (m receiving, met n messy style), mirror sex.
imagine your faves xoxo.
“you’re so fucking m-mean.” he sneers, head falling back against your shoulder. you have him on cool, hard-wood floors. positioned in your lap in front of your full-length mirror. his body twitches and trembles in your grasp, suffering through the onslaught of pleasure. your fingers are unforgiving as they stretch out his tight hole. his long-forgotten cock weeps precum against his tummy as you toy with him. his legs are spread and perched up above yours, giving you view and access to his privates. you only hum in response to his wail.
"i just like to toy with you honey, how's that mean?" you question, tone sickly sweet; juxtaposing the way your fingers bully their way into him. shallow pumps of your digits that press against his prostate with every drag. the slip is easy.. too easy. lube drips from his hole onto the wood, way too much was used. it wasn't an issue -- you liked it messy. liked seeing how sloppy your pretty fella could get.
the incessant schlop and squelch of your fingers has you grinning, nearly drunk off arousal. you vocalize your thoughts - "it's so messy," you breathe, groaning out a rumble from the back of your throat. "wet like a fuckin' girl f'me."
"oh my god--" he gasps, hole quivering around your fingers and tightening like a vice. "oh you liked that." you grin against his neck, kissing and softly sucking marks onto the bare skin. you slow down your attack on his prostate, settling for slower, deeper thrusts with your fingers. the squelch somehow sounds messier this way, piercing the air with the noise.
"you like being my messy little girl, don't you baby?"
he huffs at your teasing, glaring at you through the reflection of the mirror. your smile widens and you pick of the pace of your fingers. your other hand comes up to wrap around his throat, not truly choking him, but holding him in place. he keens at the touch "I need an answer, love. i can feel you gettin' close.. there's no way you think i'm gonna let you come and you can't even answer me.." you hum in his ear, the sultry timbre of your voice rumbles through him like a wave.
"i like it." he says finally, gasping out. "i like being your m-messy.. girl." he whispers, the last part a low whine. you're happy with the admission, staring at him through the reflection. "that wasn't so hard, was it, sweet thing?"
you go back to the unforgiving pace you'd began with. the sudden movement makes him whine as his chest heaves. "c'mon honey. i wanna see this messy little cunt cum fa' me."
curses fly from his mouth like prayers. his body falls limp as he melts into you, wracked with little tremors. he can't even warn you that he's close because the snap happens so abruptly. he tenses and his back arches as much as it could in your restricting grasp. his choked moans sound nearly angelic as he falls apart in your hold. he cums so beautifully, making a mess of his stomach and bucking his hips sporadically.
"attagirl honey, jus' like that." you chew your lip, watching his orgasm wrack his body in the reflection of the mirror. he whines, a sound deep from within his chest, and you take it as a sign to pull your fingers out.
you reach up to smear the mess of cum along his stomach, "my messy, pretty girl."
Ghost x Female Reader x (Choose Your Own Character) | Word Count: ~4.8k
Rating and Warnings: E for explicit. Restraints, gags, dubious consent, roleplaying, unprotected sex, cum, swallowing cum, blowjobs, double vaginal penetration, creampie
A/N: I know we are nowhere even close to Valentine's Day, but I was moving things from Google Docs to Ellipsus and found this gem like 95% done. Wanted to finish it up and get it out into the world before I forgot about it again, lol. 💜
Had a fun idea for a "write-your-own-adventure" type fic where you get to pick out who the other character is! I did my best to try and keep things as gender neutral as possible when speaking about the other character, but just know that they're dressed up as Ghost.
When Ghost is being referred to in this fic, he/him pronouns are used, but it's more intended for the "character" of Ghost rather than the person's gender. When the person under the mask is being referred to, they/them is used.
So, if you wanted Valeria to be the one under the mask, for example, it should fit in nicely. Heck, you could even had someone from another franchise entirely under the mask, who cares! Had fun writing this up, it was a fun little challenge and I felt like it was a good follow up to "Happy Birthday, Love."
Hope you all enjoy!! 😘💜
AO3 | Masterlist
Simon’s been acting suspicious all week. And not in the usual scary Ghost kind of way.
He’s constantly checking his phone, keeping a sharper eye on you, and sitting just a little straighter than normal. It’s like he’s hardly letting his guard down or giving himself a chance to relax after work.
Normally, you’d chalk it up to the job. Something big happened, and he’s either not ready to talk about it, or he can’t talk about it yet.
But the looming holiday has you thinking differently. Valentine’s Day is just a week away.
He’s planning something, he’s got to be. There’s no way he’s acting like this over nothing. Especially when he’s usually so careful, especially with surprises. Whatever it is, it must be big with how crazy he’s acting.
You decide to keep your concern to yourself, no sense in ruining his fun. And, if it does turn out to be work-related, it’s it like there’s much you could do anyway.
The week flies by. Before you know it, you’re standing in front of the mirror, fixing your hair for the third time. Nerves buzz under your skin as you prep for dinner.
Simon had been nothing but attentive today, waking you up with breakfast in bed and taking you out for some light shopping. He insisted on paying for everything, and casually mentioned he booked a reservation at that nice place downtown.
So far, nothing explains his strange behavior this past week.
If anything, he’s being sweeter than usual, which is just making you more nervous. Something big must be coming and you’re not quite sure how to feel about that.
You’re smoothing down your dress when arms slip around your waist from behind, making you jump.
“Simon,” you laugh softly.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching around you to help put on the necklace he bought for your birthday. “Couldn’t help it.”
His fingers brush your skin as he fastens the clasp, sending a small shiver down your spine.
When he’s done, his hands linger ever so slightly. His eyes trail over your body before catching your own eyes in the mirror.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask with a hint of a laugh in your tone.
“What? Can’t admire my girl?” he replies easily.
You turn around, playfully shoving his arm and sneaking him a quick kiss.
“Behave,” you tease as you sneak out of his grasp.
He huffs slightly. “No promises, love.”
You grab your purse from the living room and meet him at the door.
“Ready?” you ask.
He hesitates, glancing at the house, before nodding. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Dinner ends up being perfect.
Almost unnervingly so.
Soft candlelight flickers between the two of you and gentle music hums in the background. The restaurant flows with reds and golds, every detail almost sickeningly screaming Valentine’s Day.
You both splurge, getting steak and lobster, and a bunch of appetizers you definitely didn’t need. You share bites of each other’s plates and a bottle of wine.
He’s attentive, feeding you bites of food and finding every excuse to touch you or hold your hand. You’re all smiles and heated cheeks until his phone buzzes.
Almost immediately, his attention gets stolen away from you. He’s pulling it out enough to check the screen, even sending a quick message before shoving it back in your pocket.
A small hint of doubt settles in your stomach.
What if you were wrong? What if it’s not a surprise at all and something’s actually really wrong?
Your smile falters without you realizing it.
Simon notices immediately. He reaches across the table, lacing his finger with yours.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You alright?”
You give him a quick nod. “Yeah, sorry. Just… spaced out a little.”
He studies you for a moment, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“Sorry, just had to check on something. Promise I’m yours for the rest of the evenin’.”
You smile politely, feeling some of the weight ease off your chest a bit as you go back to enjoying your night.
By the time you get home, you’re warm and pleasantly giddy from the wine. Not drunk. Just… a bit more relaxed.
His arm is wrapped securely around your waist as he unlocks the door. You lean into him without really thinking about it, his touch making more heat pool in your tummy.
But the moment he opens the door, all light and fluffy feelings are out the window.
It’s dark. It’s never dark.
You always leave on a lamp and some small lights around the house, but now there’s nothing.
You pause. “Simon…?”
He flips the switch, and the overheads turn on, confirming that there wasn’t a power outage. Nothing looks wrong, everything's still in place… so why were the lights turned off?
Unease ripples under you skin, abolishing the heat in your gut.
“Hm…” Simon hums as he steps further into the house.
“That’s not really reassuring,” you quickly whisper to him.
He turns to you, expression suddenly very serious. “Stay close to me,” he says as he slowly pulls out a firearm you didn't even know he had on him.
Your heart stutters and your eyes go wide. He's not fucking around right now. With a quick nod, you're tucking in closer to him as the two of you start making your way through the house.
The living room and kitchen are quickly given the all-clear, but your stomach drops when you reach the hallway.
Light peeks out from under the door frame, making your pulse race.
“That wasn’t on when we left,” you whisper to him.
Your heart hammers as he steps more deliberately in front of you, his broad shoulders shielding you without hesitation. He closes the distance to the door slowly, before carefully opening it up.
At first, it's a bit too bright to see anything. Then, as your eyes catch up, your brain lags to register what you're seeing. There's black against your white sheets, a broad shape lying unnaturally still. A breath later, everything clicks.
There's someone in your bed.
They’re dressed head to toe in tactical gear, every inch of skin covered. When your eyes settle on their face, your heart nearly stops.
It's Ghost.
“Oh my god,” you whisper.
“Well now,” Simon says lightly beside you. Despite his easy tone, you end up slightly jumping.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an intruder," he continues, head tilting as he studies the scene before him. “Looks like you fell right into my little trap."
You blink, glancing up at Simon, completely and utterly confused. You look back at the bed and realize that Ghost is restrained. The same stain rope he had used on you for your birthday, is now securing him to the bed. His wrists are connected to the headboard and his ankles have been tied to the bedposts, leaving him completely immobilized.
Your stomach flips at the implication.
Ghost's head turns slowly toward you. Dark lenses now sit in the eye holes, making it impossible to see who's actually behind the mask while also making him seem more soulless than normal.
"Been really worried about you since I found out about your little stalker," Simon continues casually, a hint of amusement in his tone. "So I upped the security a bit. Figured he'd be sniffing around this time of year, and it looks like I was right."
Simon gives you a playful look and everything clicks into place.
Oh.
Oh.
A slow smile spreads across your face as you decide to play alone.
“Oh my,” you breathe, an obvious playfulness to your tone. “You did it. You caught Ghost. Thank goodness.”
You lean over slightly to Simon, dropping your voice. "…So who is that?"
“Does it matter?” he shrugs.
“Yes.”
He smirks.
“It’s Ghost.”
You shoot him a look, making him laugh.
“Relax. No one you wouldn’t approve of. In fact…” He pauses. “Pretty sure you’ve mentioned more than once that you’re rather fond of them.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You know exactly who he means.
“Has…” you hesitate. “Has he been here the whole time?”
Simon shakes his head.
“No. Had some help. Didn’t want you spoiling the surprise.” He taps his pocket lightly. “That’s who I was texting.”
Relief and clarity wash over your body as a week's worth of nerves leaves you. “That… makes so much more sense now.”
“He’s also gagged,” Simon adds casually.
You blink, head whipping over to Ghost. “Huh?”
“Didn’t want them ruining the immersion,” he explains. “Or talking back.”
You stare at him for a second, before barking out a laugh.
“Simon,” you say breathlessly. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
He steps closer, slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. His eyes darken as they meet yours.
“Always,” he murmurs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love. Hope this was a good surprise.”
Your chest warms.
“It is,” you say softly. “Can’t believe you kidnapped someone for me, though.”
“Technically,” he corrects, turning slightly toward the bed, “he broke in.”
He gestures vaguely. “My security measures just happened to lead to him being tied up in your bed.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. "And lets not act surprised that I'd kidnap anyone you asked me to," he adds quietly.
That sentence should terrify you, but you find yourself all but melting into him instead.
“Can they at least breathe?” you ask, suddenly concerned.
Simon laughs again. “Yes, and they’ve got a clicker in their hand, so if they need anything, they can signal us.”
You glance at the restrained figure, and sure enough, there’s a small device in one of the gloved hands.
"How long have they been here? Was there a way for—"
Simon steps into your space, cutting off your rambling. "Love, they're fine. Had someone watching them and they left through the window when we walked in. Now, what's say you enjoy your present, hm?"
You had more questions, but the look Simon was giving you had you biting your tongue.
Instead, you nod. "Okay, okay."
He releases you and takes a step back. "Go on then," he murmurs, nodding towards the bed. "Have some fun."
You swallow, nerves starting to buzz under your skin again as you turn to face your Valentine's Day present.
“I, uh… Where do I start?”
His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Well,” he says quietly, eyes roaming over you, “that depends on you, love.”
He leans in, voice dropping. “I was thinking we teach your little stalker a lesson. Have a bit of fun. Get him back for tying you up on your birthday.”
His thumb brushes along your hip. “But it’s your call,” he tilts his head. “What do you think?”
You don’t answer right away, eyes drifting back to the figure on the bed. When you look back at Simon, his gaze is hungry as he waits on you.
A small smirk tugs at your lips.
“Well,” you murmur thoughtfully, “he did scare me a little.”
Simon hums. “Mm. Unacceptable.”
“And,” you add, glancing at the restraints, “he is technically trespassing.”
“Criminal offense,” Simon agrees.
You bite your lip, pretending to consider. “So… maybe he deserves a punishment?”
“That so?” Simon murmurs into your hair, giving the top of your head a kiss.
You nod slowly. “I think so.”
He hums. “Good girl.”
Heat floods your face and your core at the praise.
“I, um… I don’t really know how to do this though,” you admit.
“‘S alright. How ‘bout this… why don’t you get undressed, show me that sexy number I know you’ve got on under there and then crawl up on top of him. I’ll take my time exploring the new piece you’ve got on while you take your time with him, yeah?”
You swallow hard, but nod.
Simon's fingers trail down your spine, before moving to help you with your zipper. Your outfit is on the floor in record time, showing off the new set you’d thought you had kept a good enough secret.
Apparently not.
His eyes darken as they land on your newly exposed skin.
“Christ,” he breathes. “There she is.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then the side of your neck, lingering there just long enough to make your knees weak.
His hands slide to your waist, giving you a firm squeeze before he gently spins your around to face the bed.
“Go on,” he murmurs. “Get up there.”
Your heart hammers as you approach the bed. You climb up, kneeling beside the masked figure, suddenly aware of how exposed you feel.
Simon moves closer behind you. One hand settles at the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, tilting your head just enough to get your attention.
“Remember,” he says softly, “you’re in charge. He’s here for you.”
You glance back, finding Simon already shirtless, eyes fixated on you. They’re hungry, watching every move, waiting to see what you do.
The sight sends a rush of confidence through you.
You turn your attention back to Ghost. Your hands lift, hesitating for only a moment before they slowly trace over his gear.
It’s pockets are empty of the normally lethal items that would be there, but he’s sporting all of his gear nonetheless.
You move to straddle his legs taking in the sight of him laid out like a dangerous-looking buffet in front of you.
Where do you even start? The possibilities are endless.
His dark lenses follow your movements, watching you from behind the skull mask.
Biting your lip, you decide to start with the utility belt. Unbuckling it slowly, you pull it away from his hips and set it aside, giving you better access to his jacket.
You take your time, slipping your hands beneath it, discovering a fitted shirt underneath. It feels suspiciously familiar.
“Is this the gym shirt I really like?” you giggle.
Simon huffs softly behind you. “Maybe.”
You smile and slide your hand under the fabric, enjoying the warmth and solid muscle beneath your touch.
You hum quietly, pleased, before letting your hands wander lower, fingers settling on the waistband of his pants.
“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Simon asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” you admit with a small smile. “He normally doesn’t let me explore like this. He’s usually just so rough with me.”
Simon chuckles. “Nice change of pace, having the bloke put in his place, hm?”
You glance at him over your shoulder. “Very.”
You hum as you tug down Ghost’s pants, careful not to tug too far, wanting to play into the idea of not knowing who’s beneath the mask. You come face to face with your gift for the evening. Straining against a pair of Simon’s boxer briefs is Ghost’s cock.
You smile as your hand runs over it, making the figure below you buck up into your hand.
“Oh, he’s already so hard for me,” you murmur. “You like being tied up, don’t you? Watching me get all ready for you?”
Ghost bucks again, desperate for more friction.
You turn to Simon. “Can I take it out? Please?”
He gives you a slow nod. “Of course, love.”
You reach through the slit in the boxers, and pull out Ghost's cock. It seems to spring out, making you giggle.
“Someone’s eager,” you murmur.
You trace the shape of his cock with your fingers, loving the way he seems to arch into your touch.
Simon watches for a bit longer before stepping closer to the bed. His hands find your hips, and he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.
“Why don’t you taste him?” he suggests.
You hum in agreement. Leaning down, you press a soft kiss to the tip of Ghost’s cock, before your tongue darts out for a quick lick. The resulting grunt from beneath the mask is muffled but very clearly there.
Your confidence builds as you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. You begin to move, finding a slow, steady rhythm, on hand holding the base of his cock, the other braced on his thick thigh.
You hear Simon’s belt unbuckling, the soft rustle of denim hitting the floor. A moment later, the mattress dips behind you, and you feel the warmth of his bare skin against your back.
His hands are firm on your hips, guiding you just how he wants you.
“Just like that,” he praises as you take Ghost deeper. “Look at you. So good for us.”
His praise sends a thrill through you. You moan around Ghost’s length, the vibration making him jolt.
One of Simon’s hands slides down, fingers ghosting over your soaked folds. You push back against him instinctively, a silent invitation.
He chuckles, a low rumble that you feel more than you hear. "Greedy thing, aren't you?"
His thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly. You gasp, rhythm faltering as pleasure shoots through you.
"Don't stop," Simon commands, his voice firm. "Looks like he's enjoying himself."
You glance up at Ghost's masked face. The dark lenses seem to be fixed on you, watching your every move as Simon plays with you from behind. The power dynamic is intoxicating.
You redouble your efforts, taking Ghost as deep as you can while Simon's fingers work their magic. The dual sensations are overwhelming, a perfect storm of pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer, the coil in your stomach tightening as Simon strokes over your clit.
You pull back for a breath, a string of saliva connecting your lips to Ghost's cock. You look over your shoulder at Simon, pupils blown wide.
"Simon," you breathe.
"Yes, love?"
"I want…" you trail off, suddenly a bit shy to admit it out loud.
He smirks, knowing exactly what you want. "Can't help you if you don't tell me."
You swallow. "I want you to fuck me," you all but whisper.
His eyes darken. "While you suck him off?"
You nod, bitting your lip. "Please?"
"Alright," he agrees easily. "You're in control. If that's what you want, that's what you'll get."
Warmth blooms in your chest at his words. He's quick to line himself up with your entrance, teasing you briefly as he runs his cock through your folds, opening you up for him. He sinks into you in one smooth thrust. You cry out, the feeling of being so full, of being sandwiched between them, is almost too much.
Simon sets a steady pace, each thrust pushing Ghost's cock further down your throat. The room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your muffled moans, and the occasional strangled sound from Ghost's tied form.
You're lost in it, a haze of pure sensation.
"Fuck," you whine, pulling off from Ghost's cock for a moment. "Do… do you thin he can go another round if I make him come?"
Simon's pace doesn't falter, though his grip on your hips tightens. "He'll do whatever we want him to, love. He's got no other choice tonight."
A thrill runs through you at the thought, you've never had this much power over someone before.
"They knew what they were signing up for," he adds softer. "Don't worry, love. Just enjoy yourself."
You lean back down, taking Ghost in your mouth once more. You're more determined this time, using your tongue and hand in tandem, intent on pushing Ghost over the edge.
It doesn't take long. A few more strokes, a few more moans against his cock, and Ghost is coming with a muffled shout, his release spilling down your throat.
You swallow every drop, licking him clean before pulling away. You turn your attention back to Simon, who's watching you with a look of pure, unadulterated lust.
"Good girl," he praises, picking up the pace. "Now it's your turn."
His movements become more erratic, more desperate. He's chasing his own release now, and he's determined to take you with him. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles in the way he knows makes you see stars.
You come with a cry, walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.
"Simon. Oh fuck, Simon," you cry out. Your vision nearly white out from how intense the pleasure it.
Simon follows right after you with a low groan, burying himself deep inside you as his release shoots through you. He partially collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight.
For a moment, the two of you stay like that. A tangled, sweaty mess of limbs. The only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and blood pounding in your ears.
Then, a soft click breaks through everything, making you freeze.
Simon lifts his head, looking toward the bed. Ghost has the clicker in his hand, looking at the two of you.
"Right," Simon mutters, pushing himself up. "Hang on."
He pulls out gently, making you wince at the sudden emptiness. He undoes the ropes, freeing Ghost from his restraints. The figure sits up slowly, rolling their shoulders and wrists.
You bite your lower lip, arousal flaring again as your watch Ghost readjust. "You okay?" you ask, checking in. As much as you'd love to jump them again, you still want to make sure they're okay first.
Ghost gives a slow nod in response, looking from Simon to you. They tilt their head slightly, almost mimicking the way Simon does and it sends a chill down your spine.
"You look like you're ready for more," Simon comments a bit smugly.
You nod, cheeks heating some. "Maybe…"
He smirks, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Greedy girl."
Then he turns to Ghost.
"Your turn to please our girl," he says simply.
Ghost shifts, leaning back on the pillows before patting his lap in invitation. You let out a small whine and crawl over, already so desperate for more.
Simon chuckles at you, watching as you get yourself situation in Ghost's lap. He's already hard again, so you waste no time aligning him up with your dripping entrance and sink down onto him with a satisfied sigh.
"That's it," Simon encourages from beside you. "Ride him, love."
You set a slow pace, lifting almost all the way off before sinking back down slowly, wanting to savor this. Each movement is deliberate, making his cock drag against your walls.
From this angle, you have a perfect view of Ghost. Even with the mask on, you can feel the intensity of his gaze. His gloved hands come to rest on your thighs, gripping tightly.
"Looks like he wants to touch your properly," Simon observes, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "You want that?"
You nod, picking up your pace slightly.
"Then you better tell him he can," Simon says. "He's waiting for your order."
Your confidence surges. You lean forward, breasts pressing against Ghost's chest as you bring your lips close to where his ear should be.
"Touch me, Ghost. Make me feel good… please," you tell him with a slight whine.
Immediately, his hands are on you. The rough texture of the gloves sends a new wave of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your back, holding you close, while the other snakes between your bodies, finding your clit.
You cry out, head falling back. You're already so close again, but can't seem to find it in yourself to be mad about it. Your body winds tighter and tighter as the sounds leaving your mouth go up and up in octave.
"That's it," Simon encourages, as he watches you thighs tremble. "Look at you, so close. Go ahead and let go, love. Come all over his cock."
The command is your undoing. You shatter easily, a loud cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Your whole body convulses, walls fluttering around Ghost now.
As you start to come down from your high, Simon leans in, mouthing at your neck. "Good girl," he says in that deep, sultry voice Ghost normally has. "Think you can give me a couple more, yeah, love?"
You whimper, staring at Ghost's mask while he talks. It's like he's the one behind the mask again. You muster up some quick nods, making Ghost click his tongue at you.
"Nuh-uh, sweet girl," comes Ghost's voice. "You know to use your words."
"Puh-please," you say, a bit of shakiness in your tone. "I want to come on your cock, Ghost."
Ghost's dark chuckle fills your ears. "Atta girl."
Simon gives your temple a quick kiss before he nods at Ghost, who resumes his attention on your clit.
Simon repositions himself, moving behind you and grabbing your hips. He helps to guide you into a faster, more demanding rhythm. The bed creeks in protest, the sound mingling with your breathless moans and the soft grunts from below you.
You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind blank and your body a live wire for pleasure. You're aware of everything and nothing all at once. The rough slide of Ghost's gloves against your skin, the solid weight of Simon at your back, the overwhelming fullness of being stretched around a thick cock.
"You look so fucking beautiful like this," Simon says, voice strained with desire. "Riding him. Taking what you want. So fuckin' hot."
His words are like an aphrodisiac, fueling the already burning fire within you.
The two work on wringing out a few more orgasms out of you, before Simon pulls you off of Ghost's still-hard cock. He gently shushes you as you protest.
"Easy, easy now," he coos. "Just going to reposition you.
He moves you so your back is to his chest, and you're sitting in his lap. With some maneuvering, he's entering you while Ghost hovers in front of both of you.
Simon helps keep your legs spread. "Think you can take both of us, love?" he growls into your ear.
You clench around him with a whine, making him chuckle.
"Is that a yes?" he asks playfully.
"Y-yes," you pant out, looking at Ghost with wide, desperate eyes. "Want you both at the same time."
Ghost is quick to position himself between your legs. With Simon's encouragement over your shoulder, Ghost pushes into you.
A primal moan tears from your throat as the two stretch you so wide it's almost painful. Any discomfort you feel quickly melds into pleasure as Ghost seats himself into you.
The grunt of pleasure from behind Ghost's mask has you tightening around the both of them. They give you a moment to adjust, before Simon lightly thrusts into you. Ghost follows his lead, synchronizing his movements to match Simon's.
It's overwhelming, a delicious fullness that's cut off all thoughts and has you teetering on the edge of another orgasm almost immediately.
Ghost's pace increases, become almost relentless. Each thrust is deeper, serving to both hit the spot inside of you that you love, but also to grind Simon's cock against you.
"Look at you," comes Ghost's voice again, but far more breathless. "Taking both of us so well. Such a good girl for us, aren't you?"
"Yuh… yes…" you pant between your whines.
Ghost's gloved hands grip your thighs, holding you open for them. His masked face is inches from yours, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze despite the barrier.
"C-close," you whimper, body trembling with the effort of holding back.
Simon's response is to increase his pace, each thrust aiming for that sweet spot inside of you. "Then come for us, love. Come all over our cocks."
You shatter with a small scream. You feel both of them twitch inside of you, chasing their own releases. It's not much longer before they find it. Simon lightly bites your shoulder to muffle his groan. Ghost's hips stutter as you're filled with the warmth of their combined releases.
You're boneless, a complete and utter mess of pleasure as they both hold you. Simon is the first to move, gently pulling out and easing you down on the bed next to him. Ghost follows, tucking himself behind you, sandwiching you between them.
It's quiet for a while, just the three of you breathing. Simon's hand moves to rest on your hip, giving it a light squeeze.
"You alright, love? Wasn't too much?" he asks, voice soft.
You manage a weak nod and shake of your head. "Was perfect."
He chuckles. "Good." Then he lifts his head, addressing the figure behind you.
"She'll want you to hold her," he says.
Ghost seems not to need to be told twice. He maneuvers you until you're curled up against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.
Simon disappears for a moment, before returning with a damp wash cloth to wipe you up with. When he's done, he settles back in on your other side, pulling the covers over the three of you.
"Best Valentine's Day ever," you mumble, already half-asleep.
Simon laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Glad you think so, love."
PREV - "Happy Birthday, Love"
A/N: What did we think? Did we like that?? Better yet, who did you put under the mask? 👀 I tried to keep the language open enough to where non-penile characters could be included and I think it worked out, but if not, let me know, I'd be happy to adjust. Was trying to keep it ambiguous enough that the person playing Ghost could be wearing a strap-on and it would hopefully still work.
Who did I have in mind while I was writing this...? Everyone, haha! 💜 At one point, read this and had Valeria in mind, another time, it was Gaz. Felt like it helped to get the story where I wanted by switching it up ahaha.
Hope you all enjoyed, again sorry for the random timing, but I completely forgot about this and just wanted to post it!
CW for: blood drinking, drugs (vampire venom), temporary character death, cult-like behavior? I'm not sure how to tag that, but I thought it needed to be said. Let me know if there's anything else I should tag, or if you'd like to join the taglist.
Masterlist
---
It was a beautiful day to be Celeste’s last one alive.
By now, she was 19 and had lived in the blood house for three years. She had learned all she could of the trade while still human. Madame had deemed it time for her to be turned.
As was tradition, Madame Lucienne sent her off for one last day in the sunlit world. Celeste was given a small purse, a kiss on each cheek, and instructions to enjoy everything she would no longer be able to experience after this.
She supposed she should be more afraid, or at least apprehensive, of what was coming, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be scared. All she felt was a strange sort of calm as she went through the day, enjoying what being human had to offer.
She walked the city’s streets with no particular destination in mind, exploring whatever caught her fancy. She used the funds she was given to buy rich food, savoring the flavors. She would miss that the most, she thought. Elodie and the other vampires had never been able to fully describe the taste of blood to a vampire, but Celeste doubted it was the same as eating as a human.
As the sun sank towards the horizon, she made her final preparations. She bought herself a sweet, wanting that to be the last flavor on her tongue. She gave the last of her funds to beggars, wanting to help them as almost no one had helped her.
She headed back to the blood house, ready to end her life as she knew it.
Everyone in the house knew of the night’s plans. They gave her reassuring smiles and comforting touches as she went to change into the simple shift she would wear for the process.
Celeste didn’t need reassurance. She wasn’t afraid. Perhaps she should have been— there was no guarantee she would survive the process of turning, after all. Not all humans did.
She was going to die tonight. Whether or not she came back was still in question.
But Celeste felt no fear as she descended to the lowest floor of the blood house, below any floor that customers would see. It felt right, like this was where she was meant to be.
The room she approached wasn’t one she had seen before; it was off-limits to humans every night but their last. The door was heavy, wood and steel making a strong barrier against entrance or exit. The keyhole seemed to wink at her as the door opened from inside.
The vampires of the blood house welcomed her in with sharp-toothed smiles.
Madame Lucienne looked otherworldly in the flickering candlelight. She gestured for Celeste to kneel in front of her, in the center of the room.
“Welcome,” she said, voice rich and deep.
“Welcome,” the other vampires echoed.
“My children,” Madame Lucienne continued, “we have gathered tonight to welcome another into our world of night. Celeste, you are here to be offered a gift: a chance to leave the daylight world behind and be reborn as part of our family. Be warned, though: it is a chance only. There is no guarantee here. Will you accept?”
This was it, Celeste knew. This was her last chance to back out. She could still say no.
(Except she couldn’t, not truly. She had to repay the training she had received; nothing in life was free. If she couldn’t repay it by working in the blood house, she would end up in the same situation as all the patrons who had debts they couldn't pay off.)
“I will,” she said, quiet but firm.
“Then let us begin.”
The youngest vampire approached and knelt alongside her. He took her hand, turning it to expose her wrist and the delicate lacework of veins there. He brought it to his mouth and placed a kiss on the thin skin.
Then he bit down.
Celeste let out a small gasp at the sensation. No matter how many times she was bitten, the feeling never got less intense. Both the pain of the fangs and the bliss of the venom were as potent as the first time she had felt them.
The vampire withdrew quickly. This wasn’t about having a meal.
The next youngest vampire took his place, repeating the process on her other wrist. Vampire after vampire bit Celeste, taking a small amount of her blood and pumping her full of their venom. Her arms were swiftly covered in bites, making the more senior vampires get creative with their placement.
Elodie was the one to lay Celeste down on the floor. The combination of vampire venom and blood loss meant her head was spinning too much for her to keep her balance any longer. Elodie then pushed the shift up Celeste’s legs, baring her pale thighs. The vampiress licked up the inside of one thigh with a wicked smile before biting down, her mark left nearly to the crease where thigh met body.
Finally, after every other vampire, it was Madame Lucienne’s turn. She sank gracefully to the floor and pulled Celeste’s head into her lap. By that point, the girl was nearly insensate. The vampiress smoothed Celeste’s hair back from her face with a small smile.
“I do so hope you survive, mon petite ange,” she murmured.
Her choices usually did. She chose her candidates well, and prepared them well. She made sure they were well-fed and healthy, bodies strong enough to withstand the strain of the transformation. By dosing the candidate with as much vampire venom as possible, she mitigated the pain of transformation that was sometimes too much for fragile humans to handle.
Still, just as she had said: there were no guarantees.
Madame Lucienne brought her wrist to her own mouth and tore it open. She held the bleeding wound to Celeste’s mouth. The girl drank easily, almost greedily— a good sign of how suited she would be to her new life.
Then it was her turn to drink.
She turned Celeste’s head to the side, exposing her as-yet-unmarked neck; hers would be the only wound to adorn the girl’s throat.
The vampiress bit. She drank deeply, continuing until the girl’s heart no longer pumped blood through her veins.
Celeste was dead.
Now, they would wait to see if she would be reborn.
Desire intends to indulge. To see their brother suffer in his glass prison and then breed the vortex.
If only they didn't get a horrible idea -- a wonderfully ridiculous whim, what if they rescued Dream?
Nothing goes as anyone expected after that.
(a short fanfic that's been bouncing around my head since I read the comics back in high school)
It was just a whim. A small little urge that Desire gave into because that was what they did. That night, they would place the feather in the cap of their wonderful plan, giving Unity Kinkaid a child and placing Dream on the express pass to a humbling downfall.
Not to say their dear brother hadn’t already been knocked low. The brilliance of this plan came in the repeated hits. Over and over, Dream would be faced with the cold hard reality that he wasn’t any better than anyone else. Whoever thought Dream belonged on a level with Death and Destiny really was a clown. He was no better than them.
But the thought came to mind of how funny it would be to see Dream locked in that glass cage. Naked. Trapped by mortals. Kept weak and powerless.
Oh, even thinking about it got Desire’s motor running, so if they saw him, if they looked at his bare humiliation before visiting the Vortex that wouldn’t be, that would just be the icing on their cake.
Except -- it wasn’t.
Trapped as he was, Dream couldn’t recognize Desire through their disguise. Standing out of sight, Desire studied Dream. Absorbed him. Obsessed over every inch of pale skin. Over the universes which his eyes contained.
The Endless were beautiful. Each in their own way and Desire most of all, but they were all gorgeous creatures. Humanity loved to beautify even the worst of them. Even Despair in her gloom held a consuming depth to her gaze which drew humans in. They loved their sadness. Romanticized it as much as their destructive whims or impossible dreams.
So, of course, Dream looked divine. Long-limbed and vulnerable. If he were anyone else, Desire would have taken advantage of the situation without hesitation, burrowing themselves so deep inside him that a piece of them would never leave. Unity Kinkaid was a task. A means to an end. If they could do that to Dream, well — this whole plan wouldn’t be happening, now would it?
Or maybe it would. Lovers tended toward passionate ends, for better or worse, and Desire rarely lost themselves to a want with anyone else the way they did with Dream, so it would be a bloody end, and they would both be doomed for it.
Except a twisted little thought crept into Desire’s mind. It came from nowhere. Or perhaps simply somewhere so deep down that they would never give name to the horrible, putrid source. Either way, it sounded rather like Delirium — I could save him.
Oh, wouldn’t that be a laugh? Desire saving Dream. No one would see it coming. Destiny hadn’t. Destiny said they didn’t have to worry. Dream would return and everything would be set right. Of course, Destiny’s apathy left Death concerned, but the look in her eyes — she knew something. She knew Desire would win even if she didn’t know that they were the ones behind this whole mess. This was just stage one. The prelude. The fucking opening act when Dream discovers the lowest he can be drawn to and makes it all worse over and over again because of the stick up his ass that made him so stubborn, so unmovable. Dream wouldn’t yield, so why should Desire?
But wouldn’t it be funny? Desire comes in and sweeps Dream out of his circle, catching their brother’s weakened form, cradling all that pale skin to their chest before setting the house on fire as the captors peeled their own skin in a mad orgy. Wouldn’t it be heroic? Wouldn’t it be so unpredictable if Desire collected Dream’s things and found Dream’s stupid raven, escorting them to Desire’s realm.
Dream would protest, but how easy would it be to hush him? If Dream wanted to go to his realm, then Desire would go as well. Just to be safe. Just to be certain. Because they cared about Dream.
Dream would never suspect them. If the plan continued and failed, then Dream would see Desire with all the strings, but this? For all Dream brushed them aside, his pride would never let him believe that Desire had the foresight to yearn for his destruction obsessively only to give up.
But it wouldn’t be giving up. It would be a surprise. A fun change to their game as Dream continued on playing chess with nails and horse shoes. What would his expression be like? Before his power returned, would he cling to Desire? Would he thank them?
Oh, even if he didn’t, Desire could lord that over him. Feign humility. Feign understanding. Feign that it was fine that Dream didn’t appreciate the rescue because all Desire truly wanted was their brother back.
A seductive smile and a little flirtation sent the guards away. Crossing into the room, Desire made their entrance.
“Oh, brother-mine, what have these mortals done to you?” Desire crooned.
Dream sat up. Those infinity eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t his usual glare. He looked confused. Relieved. Frustrated. A thousand emotions danced in their brother’s hollow expression, but when Desire scuffed out the circle, shock took center stage.
“Destiny said to not interfere. I know you had a plan to outlast them, so you don’t have to thank me,” Desire announced, purposefully preempting their brother’s broody grudge-holding ways. “This is for me. I missed you. I wanted you back. The world is so boring without you.” Oh, this felt too true. All that prideful distance cracked and something churned in Dream’s gaze. This was addictive. They wanted more. “Never fear, brother-mine, I’ll rescue the fair damsel and keep you safe. All for a kiss.”
He wouldn’t believe Desire if there wasn’t a cost, but the amusement at the request as the sphere cracked was the most positive emotion Dream had shown Desire in eons. When he collapsed forward, weakened by his imprisonment into Desire’s arms, the careful winding of those thin arms around Desire’s neck was nothing compared to the soft almost smile at Dream’s lips.
His smile was so beautiful. It was easy to forget how cruel Dream’s affections could be. Once burned, their brother never forgave. Not truly. His punishments transformed. The line between the perfection of the dream and the horror of the nightmare he could be — Desire loved that stark contrast, but they suffered the nightmare for so long that the smallest of gestures left them reeling. Dream’s head softly rested on their shoulder. The upward curve of lips grew as the house burned.
“To my realm then!” Desire purred as the mansion burned down around them, people fucking even as the flames closed in.
Dream frowned. “My things.”
“I already sent them ahead of us.”
Dream’s eyes narrowed. Always suspicious. Always blaming Desire for their fickle nature. If only he knew how it had saved him this time.
“You still haven’t given me that kiss, brother-mine. A deal is a deal,” Desire teased, frustration mounting when Dream tried to move away — his all-consuming eyes catching sight of his stupid bird.
Taking was fun. Pushing someone down and doing what they wanted, that was Desire unleashed, but sometimes they wanted to be given things, so they pressed, intending to spend eons teasing about an owed kiss only to have cold hands hold their face and soft lips press to their forehead like a benediction. Not lustful. Not covetous. Forgiveness.
Desire bent to a whim. That was natural. That was their nature, but Dream? Dream should’ve been stubborn. Should have shoved Desire away and acted aloof. Acted the better.
“Thank you, sibling-mine,” Dream whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I am grateful for your aid.”
Desire’s lips twisted into a salacious smirk. “Oh, Dream, that just won’t do.”
Pulling the older down, Desire showed him how to kiss. Reminded him of wanting and passion. Reminded him of what Desire felt like, burning and all consuming — gentled by longing and eons tending a flame alone in the dark. Oh, if they could safely draw blood, Desire would become vicious. Would plunder and nip until red painted Dream’s lips, but sweeping the other into their realm, they set Dream upon their bed and sent the raven out to roost. Dream’s things sat upon the mantle, but instead of letting their brother collect them, Desire curled around him, holding Dream to their chest.
“I must return to my realm.”
Desire held tighter. “You can barely stand.”
“Already, I grow stronger, and my strength shall return all the quicker in the Dreaming,” their brother stated, though he did not fight to get away. Undoubtedly, he knew he was still weakened, and here in Desire’s realm, they were as close to equals as they had ever been.
Pushing Dream down into the sheets, Desire crossed to the mantle, glaring over their shoulder. “Until you are well, I intend to be your shadow.”
They tossed over the helm, toying with the sand before doing the same. Oh, that startled disbelief in Dream’s expression. He expected a fight. Expected somehow to be obeyed and disobeyed all at once. He didn't trust kindness. Not from Desire. He was smart that way.
“My ruby.”
Putting on the necklace, Desire smirked. “It looks better on me, don’t you think?”
“That is not a toy,” Dream intoned.
He stood on lean legs. There was no need for modesty between them, though Desire would’ve loved to see Dream in the red shine of their sheets.
Toying with the ruby, Desire gestured vaguely. “Well, open your portal, brother-mine. I intend to follow, and if I need to wear your ruby to ensure you don’t run off to lick your wounds alone, I will.”
“Why are you so insistent?”
“You might as well ask me why I love you,” Desire retorted with a smile.
Brows furrowing, Dream of the Endless took up his sand, opening the portal. He said nothing. Perhaps Dream was finally too tired to speak, or perhaps he was simply bored with Desire again. Everyone else longed for them, but Dream — Dream walked away first. Called them cruel first. Dream adored them as they were and then condemned them for their nature when it no longer suited him. Why had they saved him again?
Oh, that soft, reluctant almost smile. Distrusting but hopeful. Agonized by rules in a realm of impossibilities.
Dream didn’t keep the portal open for them, but he didn’t close it before they walked through either. Desire took it as a silent invitation, and for the first time in eons, they entered the Dreaming. Standing at Dream’s side felt like home. Endless possibilities. Everything offered before them. They could have it all.
Why had Dream denied them? This was how they were meant to be. Desires and dreams went hand in hand, didn’t they? People desired what they dreamed of. They dreamed of what they desired. Only a callous heart would separate them.
Never look away. Look only at me. If anyone else enters your world, I’ll ruin them. Ruin you.
Was it their fault no one longed for Dream like they did? That no one stood beside him unwavering in their desire?
Yes. For all that Dream could be cruel, Desire ensured his lovers proved fickle. Then again, Dream did have a type. Strong-willed and passionate. Desire liked to believe they created that mold.
Toying with the ruby around their neck as Dream’s attendants rushed to him in joy — as Dream prepared to set his realm to right — that traitorous frustration arose in Desire’s heart. If their brother had trusted them, none of this would have happened. They would have remained as they were. Desire would never have shown him that all love was fickle.
Oh, Dream could have his affairs. Gratification, here and there. Desire did too. They came and went. Sex wasn’t the same. It didn’t mean anything.
Dream should have known. Should have trusted that while Desire was fickle about many things, they were unwavering in their yearning for him. If they could not have him, nobody would.
Crushing the ruby, Desire expected his brother’s ire, but power flowed, and Dream startled.
“I had forgotten how much of my power I placed in that,” Dream murmured, looking at his hands.
Desire ached to play nurse. Of course, they knew they would grow bored, but seeing Dream weak always pleased them, so this sudden return to strength only stoked the growing discontent. They should have left him in the cage. Should have kept him trapped. Should have continued the plan and had him killed rather than see him turn them away again.
Then a soft smile. Caught in the flame that was Dream, butterflies danced in Desire’s chest. Their wings left ash on Desire’s tongue, but the shift in posture — not a gesture, not a beckoning anyone else would recognize but the closest to an invitation Dream could manage (practically seduction, bending over and begging for it with the way his expression gentled) — that shift allowed Desire to open their hand, letting the remains of the ruby dissipate as they stood beside their brother. Impatient. Excited.
Their game began this way. An edge of almost between them until it was and then wasn’t. What use was hatred if Desire forgot how exquisite the having was?
The rolling feeling in his stomach curdled further asa few stray tears trickled down his cheeks. Chills ran up his spine as he kept his jaw clenched to try to stop the jitters making his teeth chatter. Tugging the blanket under his chin and balling his fingers within it. The pillow was soft against his cheek as he nuzzled against it, the only pleasant distraction to his misery. Daring to crack an eye and nearly lifting his head he looked up to the clock on the wall. His ears honing on the gentle ticking in the room. Burying further into the blanket, till all that was left was the top of his head. He groaned softly, hoping he’d no be alone much longer.
Another art piece in progress. This is Madame Lucienne, the enigmatic madam of a blood house in Paris. She has taken in young Celeste, but what are her true motivations? It can't be simple altruism...
