"If it's a good enough idea ill probably write anything" perfect now here's my worst idea: ghost and reader beating the shit out of eachother with very sexual undertones but they never fuck or even think about it. Violence for the sake or violence....but in a sexual yet not sexual way. The violence IS the sex. Yeah??
- rommy (idk if this even makes sense. Just imagine ghost hitting you😵💫)
kissing you sloppy style for this. my god
Both you and Ghost knew how to spar properly. How to take down friendly opponents with minimal damage. But for some reason no one had ever seen you two fight with any of that typical decorum you afforded the other soldiers. When you 'sparred' together it was messy, almost sickening for anyone to watch.
Ghost had the size advantage. He was big, his fists were heavy, and they hurt like hell. A punch to the jaw could easily give you a concussion. Rocking your head back and shaking your brain in your skull. A knee to the gut would have you keeled over wheezing instantly. That was if he managed to get a powerful hit in. You were pretty darn fast. Ducking under his swings and jabbing at his ribs until he was groaning with pain.
You both fought dirty, filthy even. He would grab your hair. Pulling you to the floor to kneel on your spine. Forcing the breath from your lungs until you had to tap out. But you would bite. He had given up trying to get you into a proper headlock. Because the second his arm was in reach your teeth sunk into his flesh, sometimes even through his shirt. He had plenty of scars to show for it. And if you were in a particularly nasty mood, you would go for the mask. Tugging it down over his eyes to blind him, or on your worst days, pulling it straight off. Your grin wide and cruel at the panicked stun that came over him for a split second before he took you to the mats.
No one knew why you continued to train together if you hated each other so much.
Once Ghost had had you pinned, sitting heavy on your chest, knees pinning your arms. No amount of bucking or kicking could knock him off. Both hands wrapped around your neck and squeezing. Hard. Squeezing to kill, you could see the murder in his eyes. It was glorious. Your nails clawed at his forearms. Leaving deep red grooves behind, some even drawing blood. You could feel his cock poking your stomach through his pants as his thumb pressed down harder on your wind pipe. And you knew if he checked you would be just as aroused. But he never did, that wasn't the point.
Right as you went limp, vision going dark, you saw Price pulling Ghost away. His voice distant as he reprimanded the man. Another blurry figure, likely Kyle, checking your vitals before rushing you to the medical bay.
No one was surprised when you didn't press charges, and when you went straight back to training rough with him as soon as you were cleared. It wasn't the first time. Everyone just assumed you were a sick masochist. But no one saw Ghost spending every night with you in the infirmary. Head resting on your shoulder so he could press his lips to the horrifyingly dark bruises he had left behind.
