Ghost Smut - Blog Posts

I read all 3 parts and it’s delicious (^‿^✿)

I love your writing, it's so fucking good. you write abt plusize ppl so well I'm jealous- ANYWAYS

can you please write chubby puppygirl who's desperate for simons approval? she already knows price likes her. she's got the man tamed as if he was the pup. but simon??? he's so nonchalant about her that she can't help but go insane trying to get praise from him. whining and yappin at his feet, giving him big puppy eyes, doing whatever he tells her to???

(if you wanna get real nasty, you could write him taking advantage of her. pushing past her limits/making her do embarrassing things)

also congrats again on 500!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

WAAAA THANK YOU!!!! my biggest inspo for plus size puppygirl reader fr ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ohhhh this is soooo delicioussss bc its so true 0-0

priceghost/plus size puppygirl reader, emphasis on ghost/reader. mdni, simon is a meanie, a little angsty but i'm a cheesy sucker for happy endings and cuddles. there's sex in there, i swear, you just have to be patient WEHGFVWKFHB wordcount: 2.8k 💀

price dotes on you like you're royalty, pouring all his money, time, and affection into you. he loves to pull you onto his lap and let you shower him with kisses. he'll have you rest your head on his thigh while he works so he can pet your hair. he buys you a pretty collar with your name on the front and his name and number on the back, as if you'd ever wander far away enough to get lost—but one name is noticeably absent.

simon is completely nonplussed by you. your pretty whines are met with scoffs, your head nuzzling against his knee earns you a pinch on your poor, sensitive puppy ears. the only time simon really pays you any attention is when price brings the two of you together, too tired to do anything but stroke his own cock and watch ghost ram into you, calling out harsh commands when his boy gets a little too rough with you. even then, when he's bullying you with his cock, tugging your tail to make you whine in pain or smacking any inch of skin he can see to watch it ripple and bounce, you're on you absolute best behavior for him.

you crave his praise more than all the pets and treats in the world, likely because it's been withheld from you for so long. puppies have a constant desire for things they can't have like, and the same is true for puppy hybrids. while real dogs beg for chocolate when it's being eaten, all you can think about around ghost is earning his approval.

ghost, of course, barely notices at first. once he's brought you to price, he considers his mission complete--all he planned to do was bring his captain a special present, and maybe fuck it from time to time. it wasn't until he observed your behavior with the other members of the 141 that he recognized your behavior. you were friendly and playful with gaz and soap, but you never fought for their attention., and with price you never had to fight for anything. no, it was only with him that you begged and pleaded for attention. only then did he become interested.

he starts small with little grunts of approval when you followed an instruction particularly well. he sees how your eyes shone when he didn't push you away as you nuzzled up to his calf, amused that just the barest touch was enough to make you dizzy. what a fun little game it could be, he thought, to see how far you would go to gain his love.

the game began when price flew out for a week for a training seminar, giving lectures to recruits and overseeing their exercises. obviously he couldn't bring you, he'd cooed as he'd wiped the tears from your round face. he would need to focus all his time on the recruits, and he simply couldn't do that with his soft, precious girl around; but don't worry, simon would take good care of you. this is where simon finds his opportunity, with no captain holding his proverbial leash. he insists you stay in his quarters for the time being--there's no use letting you lay in price's bed for the whole week, snuffling at his pillows and crying until he returns. what kind of owner would simon be if he let you do that?

instead, you stay in ghost's quarters, and this is where his fun begins. needy puppies don't sleep on human beds, he condescends on the first night. your look of confusion is met with amusement as ghost produces a big, fluffy dog bed for you to sleep on. you don't want to be ungrateful, do you? and of course you don't! so you curl up in the dog bed, the roundness of your belly and thighs making it difficult to properly tuck you body in to fit, but the words good girl that follow make you beam with delight. you're a little squirmy the next morning when he makes you eat your breakfast on the floor, but all discomfort disappears when ghost strokes your ears while he eats.

when price puts you on your knees, he puts a fluffy pillow under you to stop the pain. simon purposfully chooses a hard surface and spreads his legs wide, slapping his thighs to invite you to worm between them and mouth at his cock. he gets mean about it, forcing it too far too fast and making you gag and tear up, but you keep going like a champ the whole time, desperate to hear his praises.

its only that evening when ghost begins to feel guilty. the way you stumbled and crawled after he forced you to stay on the ground all day made the pain you were in very obvious. his cold heart cracks just a little when he hears you muffle sobs of pain and loneliness into your pillow on the dog bed. it’s worse the next morning when you're sluggish and achey, eyes puffy from tears and lack of sleep. still, you settled on the ground like a good girl, anticipating his command and biting back the little sounds of distress caused by your throbbing muscles. fuck, he did't want to do this anymore.

"up," he commands shortly. you tilt your head, confused, and ghost grunts. "i said up."

you stand slowly, half from your protesting joints and half out of concern that this is some kind of trap. simon sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and feeling the fabric of his balaclava catch on the callouses.

"go on, back to bed. my bed," he clarifies when your lip begins to quiver. he brings in a bowl of cereal for you, exasperated to find you perched gingerly on the very edge of the bed, ready to slide onto the floor at a moments notice. "stay up there, lovie, get comfortable. there you go."

he hands you the bowl and watches your tentative movements as you wriggle your fat thighs around to sit more securely on the bed. your sleep shirt clings to your round belly, making it even more apparent as you begin to eat your cereal. god damn, you really were the prettiest little thing. with your thick thighs and arms, ghost thought you would be a sturdy girl, able to take his cruelty, but looking into your sweet face he knows he had been wrong. you poor little thing, so obedient and fragile. he resolved to be at least a little gentler with you, his new favorite toy. he really ought to make it up to you, coax you back in to him, but ghost doesn't do apologies.

he's always thought actions speak louder than words.

his hand is slow when it creeps to your hair as you eat, his eyes drawn to the way your ears twitch when he scratches at the base of them with dirty fingernails. you drink the milk from the bowl, sweetened by the tooth-rotteningly sugar cereal price indulges you with, and ghost wipes the milk mustache from your upper lip with the rough pad of his thumb. your pink tongue pokes out to lick it obediently off of his fingers, just like you would do with price. god, he wanted to make you cry, those big eyes would look so pretty glassy with tears, but he'd already hurt you enough in the past day.

simon considers your face for a moment. he doesn't really do kisses either, unless price makes him, and even then his favorite place to kiss is the sole of the captain's boot. instead, simon scratches your ears absentmindedly until you nuzzle into his palm. you seem content to lie in his bed all day with his hand in your hair, but frankly, he finds that a boring solution to his self-made problem. instead, he trails his hand down your face and thick neck to where your collarbones are barely bumps under soft fat and skin. he draws circles there for a moment, watching your reactions to his touch with feigned disinterest. he'd never bothered to learn you before, leaving that up to price, but now... well, getting to know his favorite chew toy a little better couldn't hurt.

his hand moves down, cupping one of your tits in his hand. even his big palm didnt cover the whole thing, so big and soft, and that interested him more than the thought of your pretty tears.

"take this off, yeah?" he phrases it as a question, but the way you jump to do as he says makes it seem like gospel. you're even prettier underneath, rolls on your sides and your tummy hanging over the waistband of your sleep shorts, littered with stretch marks that remind simon of his own. your nipples are already pebbling, fuck you're so pretty. he pinches at them more gently than he usually would, trying to mimic what he's seen price do to you. the satisfying little whine you let out tells him he'd probably doing something right, eyes flitting back up to yours. oh, sensitive thing, you're already eager for more, he can see it in your eyes.

he's seen price lavish your tits with his mouth and he's seen how you squirm and preen from it, so he rolls up his mask over his nose and dips down to seal his lips around your swollen nipple. he rubs his tongue against it and when that doesn't elicit the response he wants, he sucks on it with a little more force than necessary. now you let out that lovely little noise, and he feels his cock twitch to life. his mouth waters at the taste of you, sucking and licking your nipple with an almost clinical focus, trying to figure out what you like. his fingers tweak your other nipple and, there, there it is again, that precious little moan. he salivates over the taste of you, his spit dripping down when he bites at your skin, enjoying how you squirm.

"simon, simon" your breathy voice breaks through his focus and his eyes turn up to meet yours. he huffs when all you do is stare at him and squirm, and he pinches your nipple meanly.

"you want something, lovie?" he snips, "you ask."

"please, touch me?" he rolls his eyes. you're so vocal with price. are you really so scared of him?

"words, pet, or i'll leave you like this," he warns. "be specific."

"please, please touch my pussy," you whimper. what a lovely sound. "or let me touch you?"

ghost considers having you suck him off. he's seen you wrap your lips around price's cock and hump his leg until you cum, rutting against his boots like the desperate little pup you are, and he has to admit it’s tempting. he's already hard in his boxers, fuck is he hard, but he reminds himself this is supposed to be for you. instead of responding, he pushes his hand on your plush belly and forces you down on your back, shuffling his way down the bed. he yanks your panties and shorts down and off your legs with little ceremony, forcing your thick thighs wide enough for him to get a look at your pussy. he spreads the folds apart, watching how you glisten.

"please, simon," you whine, rolling your hips forward to try and get his thick fingers inside of you.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he tuts, but relents. he's forced his fingers into you many times, but after a moment more he realizes that he's never put his mouth on you, never licked into your cunt or sucked on your clit. has he ever eaten cunt? not to his memory. shit, maybe he should stick to what he knows--but you look so sweet weeping for him. there's a first time for everything.

he leans down, unsure of where to begin, and licks a long stripe up your cunt. your hips buck into his face and he does it again. you taste good, he decides. he wants more.

ghost buries his tongue in your pussy and you make a delicious noise. he licks in and out, getting more of that tangy sweetness in his mouth and dripping down his chin and fuck he loves it, no wonder price spends so long with your thighs pressed tight around his head. you clench around his tongue and he groans. soft and wet and sweet, he could stay here forever. only the dissatisfied whines from your lips tear him away for a moment realizing he's been neglecting your poor, throbbing clit. how mean of him. he scrapes his teeth across it just to hear you cry out before pulling it into his mouth, forcing his tongue under the hood to rub the nerves hard enough to make you weak. he grinds his own hips into the bed, his cock so hard in his pants that he considers pulling away entirely to shove it inside you--but all thoughts of forcing his cock in your pussy fly away when he feels you gush out more of that sweetness he wants.

simon sinks back down, slurping pornographically against the folds of your cunt. the fabric of the balaclava, still rucked up over his nose, grinds against your clit.

"simon, simon, si," you babble his name and he finds that he enjoys sound of that too.

"i know, lovie, i know," he grunts, muffled into your cunt. he could go on like this for a while for his own pleasure, and maybe one time he will, but right now this is for you, so he pulls his tongue reluctantly out of your cunt and goes back to licking your throbbing clit, hard and swollen under his touch. his thick fingers find their way to your weeping entrance, working in slow enough to make your head fall back in a noise of anguish. he pumps them in and out faster, luxuriating in the wet sound. in and out, in and out, and soon you're chanting for him. his name, his callsign, babbled sounds that barely sound like words at all, and he devours each noise with the same enthusiasm that he eats you out with. your thighs tighten around his head, squishing tight over his ears and he begrudges the slight loss of those precious noises. oh well, he'll just have to make you scream.

his fingers move faster, so long and thick that he manages to find that spot inside you that makes you sob above him, panting and squirming like you're unsure if you want to get away or drive yourself closer. ghost doesn't care--if you tried to pull back right now he'd just drag you back. you're close, he can tell, so close he imagines he can taste the change on his tongue. he wants to pull back and encourage you to come with his words, but he just can't seem to pull away from your clit, sucking and sucking and sucking and--

you do scream for him, loud and trembling and gushing over his fingers oh-so-sweetly, and simon feels his boxers fill with warmth. christ, he came in his fucking boxers from eating your pretty cunt, he'd have to make this a habit--maybe with price fucking into him from behind, wouldn't that be something? he sits up, panting and licking the wetness off of his mouth, finally seeing the limpness of your body and that deliciously fucked-out look on your face. he pats your thigh.

"need a nap, hm?" he suggests, though you seem like you're not quite back to coherence yet. what would price do right now, he considers. food and water and a warm washcloth come to his mind, though price usually has those prepped and on hand. still, he's pretty sure he could scrounge up a water bottle and some fruit for you. he slides off of the bed, surprised to hear a distressed whimper when he does.

you're holding out your weak arms to him, lip trembling. he stares at you, confused. the fuck are you asking for? cuddles?

oh. right.

ghost considers for a moment. cuddles are on the list of things he doesn't do, right up there with kisses and apologies, but you look vulnerable and warm and so, so soft. naked in his bed, eyes wide, begging to be held, he can't deny you, can he?

he sighs and slides back in with you, grunting when you press your face to his chest in delight.

"gonna be fuckin' gross when you wake up," he grumbles, thinking about the stickiness between your thighs and in his boxers, but wraps his arms around you nonetheless. your ears twitch and under the blankets he can hear your tail thump, eyes closing right away. you're just as soft and warm as you looked.

he's fucked.

I never thought I would want something like this before (≧◡≦)

MDNI 18+

simon would make you ride and hump his boot whenever you were being a desperate little thing. a small desperate whine left your lips as you pathetically grind on his combat boot, your mouth glossy with your own saliva as you looked up at simon pleading, eyes wide and glossy. “told you sweetheart, ‘m busy.” simon merely grunted as he pretended that you didn’t even exist, like you were a pest bothering him. a small huff escaped your pouty lips as your movements became slightly more messy, your arms wrapped around his leg as you tried to get some sort of friction from his boots, every little edge and lace that rubbed your slick folds. “si, i need you,” your voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes your inner thighs glistening from your arousal as the laces were now damp from them too, though clearly simon did not care. “don’t be so lazy sweetheart, you can do it yourself.” his tone cold and nonchalant, whilst you were the complete opposite, you felt your body get increasingly hot and bothered, cheeks flushed as you looked up at simon through your lashes, again completely unbothered. your panties were completely soaked, the outline of your cunt visible as you left small damp spots on his boot. as the ache in your past increased, your folds swollen but with no release you reached for the zipper on his cargo pants, simon’s strong hands gripping your wrist instinctively. “what are you doing love?” his tone stern as his eyes narrowed, disapproval painted on his face. “need you,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as your bottom lip quivered, tears welling up in your eyes. “lay down and spread your legs,” simon ordered, not even bothering to look at you. obediently you followed, the cold material of the floor making you shiver slightly as you spread your legs, your cunt fully visible from your soaked panties. slowly, simon lifted his leg, his boot to your cunt before gently pressing down on your clit, eliciting a whine. simon spoke cooly “keep quiet if you want to come sweetheart.”

He should put me in a headlock now\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

smut | 18+ mdni.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley definitely thinks he’s a soft dom.

Wholeheartedly.

He has a lot of patience, he’s cool headed most of the time and knows how to stay that way even if he’s in a sticky situation. Barking out almost everything he says, giving you a good pat to the ass as praise. He’s still getting the hang of understanding all of you, eyebrow cocking up your stupid mistakes. But he’s calm, taking your jaw in his hand to look at him, making sure you don’t get ahead of yourself, takes time to correct you so you can get better at what you need help with.

It’s not like you were bad, no, you just had your off days. ‘Everyone does honey’ Simon reminded you constantly. You were well mannered, politely asking or declining when you needed to.

But my GOD, that brute, he gave you hell.

He’s manhandling you every which way imaginable, folding you like a lawn chair. When you trying to get the rest of his swelling cock inside, whining and clenching around a quarter of him— he’s pinning your hands down with one of his calloused hands, turning you slightly on your side so both of your legs are over his right shoulder and harshly yanking you to look at him by the chin.

“What did daddy say ‘bout bein a greedy bitch mama? You know better.”

Loved putting you in a full nelson so you had to stay there and take every veiny inch of him. He’s calling you everything but a child of god.

“Such a slut, makin a mess all over me. Look at this shit.”

“Squirtin like a fuckin fountain, what a messy fuckin pup. Pretty bitch on my dick, yeah?”

And when you’d refute being his puppy, he’s putting you in doggy style. Pressing his hand on your small of your back to create the meanest arch imaginable, drilling into your gummy walls while pulling at your curls.

“Pantin like a fuckin bitch in heat, ‘nd you say you’re not my pup. Fuckin lie, that is.”

He makes it his mission to fuck you till all you can think about is ‘Simon, simon, simon, daddy, daddy, daddy—‘

And he’s stuffed you completely full, your mixed cum spilling out and forming white rings around his dick. You’re drooling, eyes seeing stars, tears down you beautiful skin and he’s snapping his fingers in your face.

“Hellooooo? earth to [+]? Is that thing on?”

Simon’s laughing at the state of you in the crevice of your neck. He adored to see you absolutely wrecked for him. Overstimulated from cumming too much or edging you till you were babbling, whimpering mess. He scuff, pushing your pretty curls out of your face to properly look at you, relentlessly ramming every inch he could into your sweet spot, you slapped at his shoulder and swore it was all ‘too much’ and how ‘you couldn’t cum anymore.’ But there you were, still a moaning mess, cunt still clinging onto his manhood for dear life and dripping down his thighs.

With a ‘thwack’ to your tender clit, and a tight grip on you’re throat,

“Fucks sake, just shut up and cum already.”

You don’t even know what the fuck is happening to you when you cum. Legs shaking, stomach turning into knots, mouth agape because the moan won’t let itself out. And then you feel it, warm fluid hitting your cervix while Simon’s tip pulses inside you. You pass out for God knows how long, but Simon is yanking you out of the darkness by playfully flicking your temple. You’re still subbed out, immediately going to cling to him like you always do. He’d hum at the action, loved his needy baby. That’s when the soft comes out.

“Did good for me princess. Always been my good girl.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, long day tomorrow, yeah?”

a/n: Simon’s an aggressive lover, it’s true. It’s science.

Treat me like a rag doll

request: I headcanon Simon as a gentle dom but by reader’s request, Simon roughly fucking you :((( having his cock in your mouth and tears in your eyes as you moan from him hitting the back of your throat :(( massaging his balls. You just want to be covered in his cum!! Simon having enough and hastily getting you up into his arms and finally fucking into you while holding you up. He’s nipping at your jaw and neck, grunting into your ears and letting his mouth run wild as he talks about your wet pussy. Bonus points for a very sloppy creampie :(((( I just want his cum so bad it hurts

sloppy drooly sex w simon :(((

you asked simon to be rough w you this time and even though he was unsure at first because he knew he wouldnt hold back he agreed :(((

simon and throat fucking !!!! he wouldnt even let you have your way :(( hes got his hands tangled in your hair holding your head and forcing his big cock down your throat :(((

and when you look at him with teary doe eyes that man loses it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 he will throw his had back while the sluttiest moan makes his way out of his throat 😵‍💫

and he will cum all over your face!!! and make you swallow his cum that went in your mouth :((

'swallow it, love' and then you open your mouth to show him that you did in fact swallow :((

'mmh yeah, thats my good girl' 😵‍💫 (istg that man-)

and then he scoops you up in his arms (because yes that bitch can manhandle you no matter your size) he burries his face in your chest or neck and leaves hickies EVERYWHERE!!!! :((

no because he WILL grunt in your ear and nuzzle his nose in your hair 😵‍💫

'nngh, fuckin' love this pussy, baby' while hes nipping at your jaw :(((

and then you both cum at the same time 😵‍💫 but im telling you that man can cum so much that he cums both inside of you and all over your tits and tummy :(((

hes sloppy hes messy and i need him so bad.

✨Heaven✨

this but with simon. y’all know i love this video

“bet i can make this pretty pussy squirt huh?” simon looked down at you with malevolent eyes. you’re breathing hard and heavy as you strain your neck to look past your chubby tum and watch simon’s assault on your puffy clit.

“nghh!” you’re crying out as his movements against your cunt continues its speed. you began to feel this odd pressure bubble up in your lower region. “s-si—si, si—i have to-i have to pee!” your voice hurries in a high tone as simon stares down between your legs with dark concentrated eyes.

your man chuckles and ignores your cries with the most malevolent grin. unsurprisingly, he knew you weren’t gonna cum normally like you did. no, with the way your pretty cunt was fluttering around his thick fingers more than usual and how your spongy walls gripped his digits like a vice; simon knew exactly what was on the way. “no you dont, sweetheart. ‘s somethin’ else. let it out for daddy, yeah?”

you shake your head urgently, almost feeling as if this was torture, knowing you secretly loved behind held down by your man like this. but you couldn’t hold that burning feeling in your pussy anymore; you had to let go.

“please please, i’m gonna piss myse—“ your mouth falls open as little spurts of clear liquid erupt from your cunt, simon grinning and fastening his assault on your poor clit when the intensity of your orgasmic waterfall increases. you feel tears fall down your heated cheeks as simon’s practically knuckles deep between your legs, still earning that orgasm from you. “oh my g—fuckkk!”

“daddy got you,” he cooed, continuing to rub at your fat nub while you squirted all over him. “daddy got you, lovie. let it all out princess.”

“nghh daddyyy!” you cried out, feeling your breath taken away from you as you couldn’t stop squirting for the next thirty seconds. you don’t know how you had this much built up in you; but the longer simon’s thick digits were inserted into your pussy, the harder you came around him.

when he finally sensed you’d had enough for the night, simon removes his fingers from inside you, eliciting a heavy exhale from you. with a loving kiss to your clit, all puffy from overstimulation, simon places a final kiss on the inside of your thigh with a silent you did good baby in his gesture.

“such a pretty mess you made, mama.”

Interrogation Ghost x konig x male reader (Slight NSFW) Your name is Zhenya <3

Zhenya sat in the dimly lit room, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on his face. His wrists were bound to the metal chair, the cold steel biting into his skin. He had been captured under suspicion of treason and collaboration with enemy forces, charges that could lead to a fate worse than death.

The door creaked open, and Zhenya's eyes flicked up to see two imposing figures step inside. Ghost, his skull mask gleaming menacingly, and König, a giant of a man whose presence alone was enough to instill fear.

Ghost approached first, his demeanor icy and unyielding. "Zhenya, you've got a lot of explaining to do," he said, his voice a low growl. "Caught red-handed with intel that could sink our entire operation."

Zhenya's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice steady.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist onto the table, causing it to rattle. "Don't play games with us," he snapped. "We've got evidence, and you're going to tell us who you're working for."

Before Zhenya could respond, König stepped forward. His height and build made him tower over Zhenya, and his cold blue eyes were void of any warmth. "You think this is a joke?" he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You think you can just lie to us and walk away?"

König's hand shot out, gripping Zhenya's jaw with bruising force. "You'll speak, one way or another," he hissed, his breath hot against Zhenya's face.

Zhenya's resolve wavered under König's intense gaze. He could feel the fear creeping in, but he knew he had to stay strong. "I'm not a traitor," he insisted, his voice trembling slightly. "You've got the wrong guy."

Ghost moved behind Zhenya, his gloved hands sliding over his shoulders. "Is that so?" he murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Then maybe you need a little persuasion."

Without warning, Ghost's hands tightened, his grip turning painful. König's fingers dug into Zhenya's jaw, forcing his head back. The cold and ruthless nature of their interrogation left no room for mercy.

König's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "We're going to enjoy breaking you," he said, his voice a chilling promise.

Zhenya's heart raced as he realized the depths of their intentions. They were determined to extract the truth, no matter the cost. And in that dimly lit room, surrounded by shadows and fear, he knew he was at the mercy of Ghost and König's unrelenting cruelty.

"dinnae act innocent bonnie, we all know where your wee lil' mouth was 10 minutes ago"

you hear johnny's smug voice through that damn walkie talkie along with a muffled chuckle from gaz.

fuck! you forgot to turn off your damn mic before sucking what might be the biggest cock you've ever seen, and also enjoying the hottest blowjob that you've given. no amount of excuses is gonna save you now, everyone knows that you like being face fucked by your superior commanding officer, lieutenant ghost.

but who were you to deny that anyways, you did love sucking his hung cock so much, suckling the tip, peppering the shaft with small kisses, letting the precum drool down your cheek before you actually start taking him fully while he has his hand behind your head guiding his sweetheart through the blowie. Although he's a pinnacle of patience, determination and resilience, it all breaks when he has your soft plump lips wrapped at the base of his cock, the thrusts get sloppy, uneven as he chases his release. And mutters a "swallow it, yea pum'kin jus' like that, All of it" as you drink on his cum, its bitter sweet as per the taste, but its a bit easier now since you're used to it.

it had been noticed by everyone around the base how much the atmosphere charged when ever you and him made even the slightest of contacts, the veterans seemed to ignore it, having had their fair share of flings in their prime, the rookies enjoyed it, but it was soap who enjoyed it the most.

johnny doesn't knows when the lieutenant will share his bird with him. But he's certain that he will one day and its not that far away.

So I'm never going to recover.

Salt to the Wound

pairing: simon riley x fem!reader

word count: 8.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, sex being used as a coping mechanism, heavy angst, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, established relationship, complicated grief, mentions of death, displaced aggression, marital issues, panic attacks, religious speak, mention of calories, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mention of dead relative, simon being pretty aggravating, purposeful omission of tags to avoid spoilers, & did i mention this is all angst?

author’s note: oh my god, this has been such a bitch to complete! i’ve been working on this for months in between my nasty smut fics bc this truthfully made me so sad to write, so i had to take breaks in between. there is only angst; i cannot hold your hand…you must walk alone…i’m sorry. read at your own discretion.

divider by @plum98 & for my taglist click—>here!

Simon can't move on from Johnny's death.

"Johnny's dead."

You remember the line clear as day.

In fact, you remember almost every single detail about that day. 

The weather had been docile, a change from the feverish heat the day before.

The air was slightly damp.

The weatherman chimed that a promising stormcloud was brewing in the distance, which could bring a couple of inches of rain, typical of January.

Your neighbor's son came to your front door, meekly asking to retrieve his ball from your backyard. 

The postman had hand-delivered your new dress, complimenting the new planters Simon built in the front yard.

Your favorite body wash that smelt of fruit ran out. 

You had made pie, apple instead of your usual cherry.

You had accidentally poured too much cinnamon in the apple mixture, shooing Simon away when you finally pulled it out of the oven because it was a "bad pie."

Simon had never heard such ridiculous words.

No pie is a bad pie.

He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth as you went to answer the house phone, quietly laughing as he hissed at the hotness. 

Then it happened. 

"Johnny's dead," the voice on the other end of the line announced, shattering the tranquility of the moment.

They were the only words that flowed through the phone line.

The very words you had selfishly cursed for the past year.

The words that had single-handedly eroded everything you and Simon had built together.

Because that day, on every level except physical, the Simon you knew had died with Johnny.

His mind merged with the very soil Johnny lay in, leaving his physical body on the surface while his soul wandered beyond your grasp. 

So out of touch, so disconnected from reality. 

Simon had become a shell of a human. 

He wasn't living, merely surviving—going through the motions. 

It was devasting to watch the man for whom you gave your heart slowly disengage right before your eyes. 

Bit by bit, piece by piece.

Until there was no more man left to see.

Just mere flesh and bones.

It was such unfamiliar territory since Simon relied on you as he relied on oxygen to breathe.

You were his sustenance, his reservoir. 

An eternal flame that burned with an unyielding passion. 

Now it seems he couldn't get far enough away from you.

However, it wasn't always that way. 

The evolution of his disconnect hadn't been linear; it was ever-changing. 

Some days, he would act just like your sweet Simon before; other days, you felt like he resented you.

Resented you for what? 

You're not entirely sure. 

You didn't kill Johnny.

But with how Simon reacted to your mere presence, it felt as though you might as well have.

You can still recall Simon's noticeable change, apart from his defining silence, which occurred exactly two weeks after Johnny's death.

The bitter taste of anise, accompanied by the sharp taste of mint, coated your tongue; experimenting with new cocktail recipes had become something of a hobby for you.

Kept you occupied while Simon worked in his office.

You had insisted he take some time off, some real time off.

Price wouldn't let him return to work, so he supplemented by hiding in his office all day and doing paperwork and other such tasks.

It wasn't entirely what you had in mind, but it was the best he could give you.

He would have gone truly mad without his work to drown out his thoughts.

So, you bit your tongue every morning as he trudged out of the sanctity of the warm bed you shared, leaving you alone in the silence, and headed straight to the room across from yours that had him so consumed.

It was funny, really. 

You always thought that perhaps a pretty woman would eventually come around and attempt to steal your Simon from your hands, not a spare room with cream walls. 

Digression aside, you selfishly enjoyed the time alone. 

Simon would only speak a couple words to you daily, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing day.

You fault him none, though it was exhausting trying to help someone who despises being helped to any degree, even if they so clearly needed it.

That was why you enjoyed the alone time. 

Though it could be occasionally dull.

So, finding a hobby to fill your time was not just a choice but a necessity for your sense of fulfillment.

Even if it consisted of the occasion day drinking.

You'll repent later.

Now, you just needed the burning taste of rum down your throat.

Your face sourced at the combination before you scribbled, 'absolute shit,' on a small notebook you kept to keep track of all of your combinations and rated them in excruciating detail. 

Hearing his office door creak open, you shoved the notebook into your pocket. 

Not because you cared if he saw, but because his office door opening earlier than ten-forty-five startled you, abruptly shifting your emotions. 

You heard his heavy boots thunk against the vinyl flooring, inching ever so close to the kitchen where you stood. 

Your heart quickened from anticipation, and you tried to steady your breathing, not wanting to give away your guilt.

"You eaten?" His voice is deep and strained as he stands still across the island.

You stay completely still, refusing to budge even a little. Instead, you choose to shake your head from side to side slowly.

"Can pick up pizza?" He suggests.

His presence now stirred a strange mix of emotions within you.

He would never lay a finger on you.

It was the news that had thrown everything off balance, leaving you both in a state of discomfort and awkwardness.

Johnny was dead.

And you could feel his haunt everywhere.

"Pizza's good," you say softly, pretending to adjust a tilted bottle of tequila.

An uneasy silence lingers between you for a moment, and then you finally turn to meet his gaze.

He looks…like shit.

You let out a soft sigh as you take him in fully.

He has dark circles under his eyes, tinged with shades of purple and blue.

His once bright blue eyes have lost their luster, and his lids now hang heavy and fatigued.

His hair is unkempt, and his beard is starting to grow, giving it a scraggly appearance.

"You don't look so good," you find yourself saying without much thought.

"Just tired," he mutters, swiping his car keys off the counter.

You move to stand. "You've been working like crazy," you say, gently pressing your hand into his shoulder.

He tightens at your touch.

Whole body going taut.

You try not to take it personally.

You fail.

"Yeah…I, I'll get the pizza," he murmurs, moving towards the front door.

Then he leaves without a goodbye. 

You thought it was just bullshit.

What the articles said about coping with a loss.

Dealing with grief.

They all seemed like distant concepts.

But, he was so evidently disconnecting from you.

You felt your head swarm at the admission.

Simon was isolated, lost in a vast ocean of grief and despair. 

And you didn't know if you were enough to reel him back in.

Three weeks later, you're cozied on your sofa, a blanket draped over your legs, the soft cushions embracing you in their cozy warmth. 

The clouds, heavy with water, have transformed from soft white to an ominous smoky gray, a stark contrast to your cozy sofa and warm blanket. 

You have your favorite tea in your favorite mug, a book wide open though long forgotten on the cushion next to you.

Your eyes are now captivated by a trashy British reality television show, a guilty pleasure that adds to the coziness of your setting. 

Usually, Simon and you snuggle up and watch the show.

Always on the edge of your seats, eagerly anticipating the outcome.

Will the man stay on the island, sacrificing his share of the prize fund, to be with the woman he's grown close to?

Or will he choose the money over her?

It's always more enthralling with Simon.

Though, you're not sure where he is.

He didn't say where he was going when he left about half an hour ago.

And you didn't bother asking.

Maybe that makes you a lousy wife.

Or perhaps, you're just exhausted.

It feels like you're tearing your own flesh, trying to get him to answer anything. 

You guessed the latter.

The television crackles to life, the sound of synthesizers and strings filling the room, creating a sense of suspense.

"Henry's decision will be…" The host's voice begins.

You find yourself sitting up, the hot cup of tea between your hands, and your eyes glued to the television.

"…revealed right after the break," the host chimes as the camera cuts to a condom commercial.

You sink into the couch with a deep sigh as you hear the front door open.

The thud of heavy boots moves into the kitchen, near earshot.

You turn to see Simon grabbing a glass and slipping it under the tap for some water.

Your teeth dig at the flesh of your cheek, your foot steadily tapping on the vinyl flooring.

He takes a deep sip of the water, sucking it between his teeth and swishing it around his mouth before he spits it back in the sink, running the water to clean out the saliva now lining the metal sink.

You'd rather be shot than deal with the taciturn.

It was egregious.

You felt awkward in your own home.

With your own husband. 

"Simon," you say with nerves on your tongue.

He turns towards you, taking a proper sip of the water.

"Sit. Our favorite show is on," you chime, a warm small growing on your lips.

He shakes his head. "Not feelin' it tonight, sweetheart."

"Come on," you urge, pointing towards the television with your pointer finger. "We're about to find out if Henry is staying or leaving."

"I'm—I'm not in the mood," he mutters, only with slight annoyance.

You decide to push your luck. "Come on. Would be nice to see you." 

"Stop asking," he cuts sharply, setting the full glass in the sink.

You narrow your eyes slightly. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Christ, I already said I wasn't in the God-damned mood." 

Ice and venom coat his words as his hand slams into the countertop.

He didn't yell, but you wish he did.

So, you could get some type of God-damn emotion from him.

Instead, his voice was low, commanding.

A voice a lieutenant would use on his inferiors. 

Not on his wife.

His eyes widen as your lips purse.

"Well then," you murmur, eyes still on his. "Guess that settles it."

He releases a shallow breath, opening his mouth before shutting it promptly.

Your eyes squint as you take a deep gulp.

But instead of being a man and apologizing, he leaves for his office like a fucking coward.

You're left there, eyes still on the spot where he stood, cheek now bleeding onto your tongue as the television announces, "...leaving the villa."

And you can't even find it in yourself to care.

It feels awkward when you finally gather enough courage to slither into the bedroom.

You had been paralyzed to the couch even a couple hours after the whole ordeal.

Not a word was breached between either of you. 

He had shut himself in his office while you had become one with the couch.

What a match made in fucking heaven.

You slip into some soft pajamas, then into the bed, the heavy comforter offering you comfort.

You rest your weary head on the pillow, eyes already heavy with emotional exhaustion. 

Before you fall into sleep, you hear the same thud of his boots streaking along to the bedroom, where you catch a glimpse of him slipping something into his sock drawer. 

The warm brown of the book cover in his hand catches your eye.

There was no mistaking what it read on the front: large, gold Cardo font with a cross hovering above the text.

"Holy Bible."

He shoves some loose papers overtop of the Bible and shuts the drawer, moving the flick of the light switch off.

His boots came off in a thud as he slipped off his shirt and jeans, slipping into the bed far from you.

Not a word was shared.

You should sleep, but instead, your mind is tormented by what you saw.

Had Simon prayed?

Prayed to a God he didn't even believe in.

If he hit his knees, splayed open the Holy doctrine, and prayed within the hopes that, by some miracle, he should get to see his brother again.

"Simon," you murmur lightly, regretting breaking the silence as his name leaves your tongue.

"Yeah?" He asks, back to you.

"Were you...praying?" Your question comes out fatigued.

"Ye—Yeah," he mutters skittishly.

You say nothing more.

Your weary eyes drift closed as you pull your blanket taut against your face, peacefully drifting off.

That night, you're plagued by a disturbing dream. Your teeth fall out one by one, leaving only protruding gums. A looming figure stands behind you, tightening your throat with fear.

You spring awake at 3:37 am.

You are drenched in your own perspiration, eyes lingering over to where Simon should be.

He's gone.

You should feel slightly relieved, but you only feel overwhelming dread.

Your skin crawls with a sense of unease, as if something is lurking just out of sight, watching you.

You blink, and it's March.

Two months since Johnny's passing.

You thought the time would pass achingly slow, but time has unfortunately moved forward at an exceptional pace.

It always felt like time should stop.

People should stop.

Because why do they get to carry on and lead an everyday life as if you aren't getting swallowed, eaten alive by the confines of your own home?

It's not fucking fair.

You are not only having to mourn the loss of a good friend but the loss of your own husband, who's still breathing.

It felt like some cruel joke was being played on you that you found no humor in.

But, regardless of the loss, you had to keep moving.

For yourself.

Or you'd probably drive yourself into madness, and nothing good ever came from a mad woman, or so they say anyway.

It was a Friday night, and you had decided to try a new recipe from your grandmother's cookbook. 

You couldn't remember the last time you had a homecooked meal that wasn't full of M.S.G and far too many calories.

But tonight, you were about to change that.

With a simple button swipe, your groceries appeared at your front door, and you got straight into it.

The large russet potatoes were peeled and cut into chunks. They were then plopped in heavily salted boiling water and smashed along with many tablespoons of butter and cream.

Chicken thighs were seasoned and marinated for half an hour, not a minute less, before being seared on cast iron. 

The asparagus and parsnips were lightly oiled before being pan-seared, and then they were sprinkled with salt, pepper, and parmesan cheese.

And before you knew it, you had transformed a handful of ingredients into a feast that was elegantly presented on some fine china you snagged from the cabinet for you and Simon.

You took a seat, admiring your hard work and savoring the delightful aroma of the chicken as it filled the room.

Hearing the same thud of the boots you had come to ignore coming from down the hall, your head shot up to see Simon with his keys in hand. 

"Where are you going?" You ask, curiosity and a bit of disappointment evident in your tone.

"Out," his voice was snipped as he marched towards the front door, not sparing the dinner a glance.

You sit up with a frown. "I made dinner, Simon."

"Not hungry," he says mechanically, like he was planning on shooing away any plans you offered. "Don't wait up for me," he murmurs, shoving on his coat, moving out of the front door, and pulling it closed.

And suddenly, the optimism you had clung to like a lifeline died, wholly and truly, leaving you in a void of despair.

You sit at that comedically large dining table for what feels like ages, pushing your vegetables around with your fork until they're practically mush on your plate.

There's nowhere else to go.

You feel utterly stuck as if the weight of the disappointment has rooted you to the spot.

Your head flings to the front door, as keys get shoved into the keyhole, before the door is pushed open to reveal a flushed Simon.

"Where have you been?" Your voice is warm yet firm.

He doesn't respond, only throwing his keys the bowl and moving to the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water.

"Simon," his name comes off your tongue almost in warning.

"What?" He turns to you, face red from the cold.

"Where the fuck have you been?" You snap, the sound of your chair scraping against the floor as you stand up, adding to the tension in the room.

His eyes widen at your tone.

Your mind was ablaze with conflicting emotions.

Tongue hot with accusations.

"Were you with another woman?" You tack on, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Christ, no," he says immediately with a scoff. "Why would you even ask me that?"

You knew it was ridiculous.

He may be a fool, but he wasn't a cheater.

"I never have a God-damned clue where you go!" You step from around the table, voice rising. "You're my husband!"

"You're my wife!" He tosses the bottle of water into the sink. The plastic crinkles against the metal, as his voice rises with yours. 

"Then act like it!" You yell, throwing your hands in the air. 

You're both practically heaving with anger.

Seathing with so much untouched and unsaid verbiage.

The silence hangs between your two before you hurdling yourself into his arms, slamming your lips onto his with so much devotion and heat.

His hands grip your cheeks tight as his tongue slides over your teeth and any piece of flesh he can.

You pant into his mouth as his hands move to grip the backs of your thighs, quickly pulling you up to lock your legs around his waist.

He moves to place you on the dinner table, standing between your legs, and you reach out behind you, sweeping your plate full of mushy food and wine glass onto the floor to make space.

The glass shattered, and the china burst into a thousand tiny pieces with a loud crash.

Neither of you cares in the slightest.

His fingers fidget with the hem of your loose top as your lips practically turn blue from losing circulation.

It had been months since you and Simon had been intimate.

Well, since...

You didn't think you needed it during this time in mourning.

Hardly ever thought about it.

Because you two rarely exchanged words, the silence between you became a barrier.

How could you be expected to share such an intimate moment when your words seemed to fail you?

Somehow, you found yourself yearning for it, a deep-seated longing that you couldn't explain or ignore.

It felt like an insatiable desire you couldn't shake.

And when his teeth sunk into your lips, you felt the soft, erotic sting of your skin break; all bets were off.

"Simon," you mewl into his mouth. "Please."

He doesn't answer in words.

Just moves to remove his belt, tossing it to the side where the leather slaps over the broken china and mushed vegetables.

Strips himself of his jeans, boxers following suit.

His fingers move back to grip the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, throwing it on the table, lips moving to skim between the dip of your breast as he moves to grip on the fat of your waist.

Your hands move to thread through the back of his air, earning a deep groan from him that rumbles against your skin.

"Shouldn't be touchin' you like this," he mutters into your skin, rough hand skimming down your stomach to slide under your pajama shorts.

"Why?" Your breathing is labored as his fingers push down into your cunt, underwear sticking to the skin due to your dripping arousal.

His finger presses into you further making you release a shallow moan.

He opens his mouth to speak before promptly shutting it, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking.

"Just fuckin' yelled at ya, bug," he grits out the first part, like he's angry at himself for ever raising his voice, no matter if you did the same thing, then says your nickname warmly.

"I yelled first," your voice is sweet like honeydew as your hand moves under his chin, gently forcing his chin up so he can look you in the eyes, and he wants to kill himself even more.

You're an angel.

A fucking divine entity, a wellspring of goodwill.

He doesn't deserve you now.

He's not sure he ever has.

"Needed to hear it," he mumbles, slipping your shorts and panties off in one pull, eyes taking in your arousal-soaked cunt. "Don't deserve ya," he murmurs, with a hint of despair.

"You do," you assure, sitting up more to kiss the corners of his mouth.

He turns his head to the side, almost in guilt; you don't have time to question why before he's lining himself up with your entrance, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck for support as he slips inside you gently.

There's no rush, no urgency to get off.

His movements are slow, unrushed.

This wasn't just a quick fuck.

It felt like he was trying to get a tangible connection to you.

Just bodies melting into each other with ease and familiarity. 

Your moans echo off the walls.

Fingernails digging into Simon's back through his shirt.

The barrier does nothing to meddle with your touch.

Nothing could ever diminish your touch.

He lets out a curse, baring his teeth as his fingers dig into the tender flesh on your hips.

His name comes off your sweet tongue in a plea.

You're about to fucking erupt.

Stomach on fire, skin slick.

He shoves his finger in your mouth, collecting some saliva before using that as a lubricant to stimulate your clit.

You let out a string of incoherent words as the stimulation hits you everywhere, all at once.

His head dips back as he comes inside you, eyes shutting closed.

Your breathing is ragged as you both come down from your highs.

However, when you breathe, you feel tightness in your chest.

A squeezing pain that only elongates.

"You okay?" Simon presses his hand into your shoulder.

You nod weakly. "Must have overexerted myself," you jest.

You suck in a deep breath, desperate for more air or something to suppress the pressure you feel. 

Simon quips a brow, opting to move away from you to grab you some cool water. "Drink," he commands, nudging the glass to you.

The water feels like a relief flowing down your throat and is so refreshing you can feel it move through every vein in your body. 

"Better?" He asks warmly.

"Better," you agree, nodding as water drips down your lip and onto your chin.

But you can't shake the feeling something is off.

It almost feels like an impending doom looming over you.

"Feel like a shower?" He taps your thigh in question.

You nod with a smile, forgetting what you were even concerned with.

You shake off the feeling of doom as you wander behind Simon to the shower.

But doom is inevitable, a fate that cannot be escaped.

The following month, April, brought fickle weather with chilly rain and bright blue skies.

Along with the fruition of tulips and daffodils came your plan.

To finally speak to Simon about Johnny.

Even just thinking his name made you feel like you were indulging in some dark code.

It felt wrong.

Even though it was far from.

You had planned to talk to him a week ago, but you chickened out at the last minute, your fear of confrontation winning over your resolve, instead opting for an awkward conversation about cats.

Safe to say he had no idea you had other objectives at play.

Just thought you were a little kooky.

He had been more receptive to conversations since your sex-capade.

Felt connected to you again.

What a perfect time to ruin it all.

He's sitting at the dining table eating a sandwich.

With no pickles because he despises them.

You smile softly.

You know him so well.

Approaching him slowly, you pull out a chair adjacent to his.

"Nice weather," he says, looking out the window at the blue skies.

"It is," you hum in agreement, shifting in your seat.

"Might go for a run later." He takes a bite of a sandwich, and you chew on your cheek. "You want to come?"

"We should talk," you blurt, deciding you need to cut the cord as soon as possible before you chicken out again.

He quips a brow, sets down the sandwich, and wipes the crumbs off a rag. "About?"

You chew on your lip nervously. "Johnny."

His eyes lock to yours in an instant, and his chewing halts.

And you can feel anxiety claw up your clothes.

"You just—you seem," you try, stumbling over your words.

You knew you should have practiced more.

"We aren't having this conversation." His tone is low and carries a finality.

"It might help if you talked to me." There's desperation in your words.

"Stop," he holds up his hand like he's giving you a fucking command.

"I'm not a fucking dog," you grit. "You can't just give me a command to shut up."

"I know you're not a damn dog," he mutters, his voice a strained whisper.

"Good. Glad you could clear that up," you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. "Since you can't clear up anything else."

You knew you shouldn't have said that the second it slipped off your tongue.

It's defensive.

You were supposed to sympathize, not defend. 

He stands up abruptly. "Not taking this shit."

"What shit, Simon?" You throw your hands up in a shrug. "Your wife asking you to speak to her?" You let out a dry laugh. "That shit?" 

He moves around to swipe his keys from the bowl, not uttering a word.

"Where the hell are you going?" You stand, moving over to him.

His eyes bore into your jaw clenched. "Anywhere but here."

And he was gone again.

Just leaves when times get too trying, apparently. 

You stand there, your eyes brimming with tears.

What was to become of you two?

You let out an anguished yell before going to your room, hands planted firmly into the soft mattress, before letting your emotions overcome you.

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands, as you prop yourself on your elbows.

Knees becoming bare from the shitty carpet while your shirt moistens from your tears.

This—this can't be it.

What was life to be without your husband?

You'd be subject to destitution.

A life of isolation, a terrifying prospect, filled with unbearable loneliness. 

Bile crawls up your throat, threatening to escape as the thoughts flood your mind. 

Your heart pounded violently, threatening to crack your ribs. 

You can't breathe.

Throat too tight to get any air through.

A stabbing pain erupted in your chest like it had before, but this was worse.

You clench your chest, tears spilling faster due to the physical pain.

You don't even process Simon hovering over you, hand clenching your shoulder.

Your head turns, and you see his mouth moving, eyes wide in concern, but you can't process what he's saying.

You can only focus on the crushing sensation in your chest. 

His eyes are scrambling, watching you push your mouth into the mattress to release a deep, tormented groan.

You were in unbearable pain.

He wastes no time grabbing and holding you in his arms, bridal style. 

You don't have it in you to scream at him.

You just sob into his chest.

This was surely going to kill you.

He grabs a stray blanket and tosses it on you quickly before swiping his keys off the counter. He then moves outside and places you in the car.

He drives in a rush, reckless.

His eyes darting over to you, curled up in a ball in the passenger seat, sobbing, hand resting over your chest.

He doesn't know what to do.

He can't crawl in your body and demand your body to be kind to you.

So, instead he brushes his hand over your wrist, attmepting to give you some comfort and he pushes the pedal further to get you to the hospital.

Desperate to heal you.

He pulls into the ER parking lot, not bothering to straighten his wheels, sprints around to your side and gently places you in his arms, all but sprinting to the ER door.

The receptionist greets you before she hears your cries and pleas.

"She, she needs help," Simon frantically says. "Please."

Nurses flood out from the large door that seperates you and Simon from the rooms.

"Sir, you'll need to wait out here," one of them says, helping you into a wheelchair and wheeling you back through the door.

"She's my fucking wife!" He shouts, though to no avail.

The door shuts in his face, shoulders dropping in defeat.

He doesn't sit, he can't.

The thought of him being comfortable while you're in agony disturbs him.

He instead stalks around the room, hands wiping across his face.

Surely, this wasn't...

Could it have worked so soon?

He grabs a trashcan, promptly puking in it at the thought.

It, it has to be a grim coincidence. 

Yeah, yeah.

Has to be.

He waits in the waiting room for what feels like ages before a doctor comes in asking for a Simon Riley.

"Is she okay?" Simon searches the doctor's face.

"She's stable," the doctor says, his voice steady and reassuring. "For now."

"For now?" Simon echos the question.

"We ran some blood tests and did an ECG on her heart," the doctor reads over his papers. 

"And?" Simon says impatiently. 

"Does she have any familial history of heart disease in her family?" the doctor asks, scribbling on the paper.

"No, no," Simon stutters. "Why?"

"The ECG results showed that your wife has coronary heart disease," the doctor says.

Simon's eyes widen, his fear palpable. "Heart disease? What—what does this mean?"

"The arteries in her heart have become too narrow, which reduces blood flow to the heart. There are treatments available to manage the condition and improve her quality of life," the doctor reassures Simon as he sees him start to get frantic.

"Are you talking about fucking surgery?" Simon's hands move through his hair anxiously, his body tense with worry.

"Not necessarily. We can start with medication," the doctor says confidently. "A standard dose of Atorvastatin daily can help manage her cholesterol and fat levels." The doctor messily scribbles the prescription on a paper and tears it off.

"Along with some lifestyle changes to help manage her condition. If needed, we can discuss other options, like angioplasty or surgery. But first, let's see how she does with the medication." He hands over the prescription to Simon.

Simon grabs the paper, nodding his head. "Alright. Can I, can I see her?" His voice is desperate.

"Of course," the doctor nods his head reassuringly. "Follow me."

The doctor leads Simon through the hallway until he reaches your room, carefully opening the door to let Simon step through.

His stomach drops, a wave of concern washing over him, when he sees you.

Eyes swollen and red from your cries.

They hang low from your apparent exhaustion.

"Simon," you greet him with a weak smile, the familiarity in your voice comforting him.

Your voice is weak and raspy.

You look sick.

And he can't handle it.

"Hey, I'm okay," you assure, as you see him examine you, worry written on his face. 

"I know you are, bug," tears brimming his eyes; he moves over to you, gripping your hand tightly. "I know you are."

To you, it felt like a source of comfort amidst the chaos. 

And that's why Simon said it.

But deep down, he knew.

Nothing could undo what he had done.

No amount of praying, begging, or bargaining could change that.

He had selfishly sealed your fate.

And now, all he could do was wait.

It had been two months since your diagnosis, July.

Things had been decent in that regard.

No better, no worse.

The medication proved helpful.

It reduced the pain you get in your chest, so that was nice.

Over the two months, you persistently urged Simon to join you in counseling.

For your sake.

For the sake of your marriage.

At the beginning of July, he finally agreed, a hopeful sign after a turbulent period that had you ready to leave him.

"What are you doing?" Simon roughly asks as he follows you to your bedroom, hands anxiously running through his graying hair. 

"I'm fucking leaving, Simon," your voice quakes, tears spilling down your face as you struggle to pack a duffle bag.

"Don't, don't do that," he stumbled over his words, moving over to you. "Just, just calm down," he placed his hand on your shoulder in comfort.

You shook his hand off before eyeing him. "Calm down?" You repeat his words. "You want me to calm down?"

"Yes. Please," he pleads, hand hovering on the drawer handle.

"You want me to calm down?" You repeat again, your voice dripping with anger. "Fuck you." 

His eyes widen; clearly, he's taken aback. 

You finish packing, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you lean against the nightstand. "Simon, you need help," you say, grabbing your wallet. "You need to see someone. Anyone."

He exhales a sharp breath. "Fine."

Your head shoots up, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "What?"

He wipes his face with his hand frantically. "If that's what it takes," he shrugs, nodding. "I'll get the help. Just, just don't leave me, bug."

"Nice to see you again." You snap out of your daze as the therapist greets you.

"Likewise," you murmur, glancing over at Simon sitting beside you.

His leg is tapping a mile a minute.

He's nervous.

You're surprised he actually managed to get in the car and come here.

"Hello, Simon," she sticks her hand out for Simon to take. "I'm Doctor Shaw," she greets with a warm and inviting smile.

Simon takes her hand, giving her a firm shake, and nods in acknowledgment. 

"Please," Dr. Shaw brings her hands up. "Follow me."

You and Simon both stand, a sense of anticipation in the air, as you follow Dr. Shaw to her office.

The office looks the same as it has since the last two times you came by yourself.

Warm and inviting.

Only some outside light spilled into the room, opting instead for a warm orange hue from a small lamp illuminating the space.

It exudes a sense of calm, wrapping you in its soothing embrace.

"Please," Dr. Shaw gestured to the couch as she sat in her chair. "Sit."

You and Simon both take a seat and you grab a pillow to hold. Simon leans timidly, his shoulders hunched and his hands fidgeting.

"So," Dr. Shaw begins, eyes moving to Simon. "Simon." His eyes flick to hers. "Talk to me about some of your hobbies."

Simon sits back on the couch, shifting uncomfortably. "Like to run, I guess," he mutters. 

She nods with a smile. "Good, good. Exercise is good. It can help clear the mind," she scribbles some notes on a notepad. "Now, I would like to know more about you two and your marriage," she hums.

Simon takes a deep gulp, and now you're shifting into the cushions.

"How are we doing in that regard?" Doctor Shaw purses her lips as she fixes her pen to start taking notes.

You shift in your seat, glancing at Simon next to you. "It's been...hard," you breathe out nervously. 

"Interesting," she scribbles in her notebook. "Can you tell me when you think it became difficult?"

You gulp. "Um...a couple, a couple months ago."

"Can you think of any factors that may have caused difficulties?" She tips her head back, offering you a comforting smile.

You tap your foot against the soft blue carpet, finger tapping anxiously against your thigh.

"Simon's friend, um, passed away in January." You choke on your words halfway through before completely finishing the sentence.

Her eyes flick to Simon. "I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult for you, Simon."

Her voice grinds Simon's gears.

Simon is pessimistic, a cynic.

Has an excruciating time finding sincerity in anything anyone says. 

This is no exception.

"Simon," she begins. "If you're willing, I would like to know more about your friend."

"Thought we were here to talk about my wife and I?" Simon's tone is dry without hesitation.

She nods lightly. "We are. It could be helpful for your wife to hear you talk about some of your feelings," she sits up in her chair.

"Did my wife tell you that?" He sits back in the chair, shoulders taut.

She quips a brow. "Tell me what, Simon?"

"That I don't share? Is that why I'm here?" He glances at you, already sinking further into the cushioning of the couch. 

You don't say anything, opting to stay silent. 

This was a setup.

A ploy to psychoanalyze Simon's psyche.

"You brought me so she could pick my brain," he voices plainly, pointing his finger lazily towards Dr. Shaw.

"No. I wanted you to come so we could fix our marriage," your voice is full of irritation.

"Because it's all my fault it's bad. Right?" His voice raises louder than he intended. 

His eyes soften as you widen in surprise, your waterline brimming with tears. 

"Shit," he exhales. "I'm, I'm sorry," he says to you with care, closing his eyes slightly as he wipes his face. 

"I understand this is difficult for you," Dr. Shaw begins, voice solace. "And I want to acknowledge your discomfort. It takes courage to confront painful emotions," she shifts in her chair, leaning forward.

Simon's eyes narrow. "Spare me the shrink bullshit, doc," his voice is critical. 

"It's important to express your feelings, Simon," The doctor urges, to Simon's dismay.

"Why?" He retorts coldly. "Because you won't get paid if I don't?"

Dr. Shaw sits up straighter as Simon lets out an irritated sigh.

"Look," he turns to you. "I know you think this is helpful, but it's not," he says with as much delicacy as he can muster.

"You aren't even trying," you murmur.

"Sweetheart, this is just...not for me. Never has been," he holds your hand softly. "If this helps you, keep coming. I'll pay whatever she charges, okay?" He moves to stand, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "I just...I can't."

Your head flicks up to meet his as his voice cracks slightly, eyes glossed over, revealing his vulnerability.

"See you at home," he bid you goodbye, not sparing the doctor another look before stepping out of the room.

"There is no right way to grieve, and I can understand your frustration," Dr. Shaw says to you, offering a small smile. "Just be there for him when he needs you. He'll come back around," she affirms, turning to grab your receipt for the session.

"Thanks," you say meekly, hand reaching for the receipt.

"This isn't your fault," she confidently says before you step out the door.

You give only a small smile in response. 

It was strange.

You and Simon had fiery love. 

Two timid souls burning with such passion, desire.

A flame to a flame. 

It was a love that felt like sparks igniting each other, creating a blistering and rapid heat that was impossible to ignore. 

But in the end, the flames of love can burn each other out, consuming everything in their path, including the ones who ignited them.

Despite your prayers, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was your inevitable reality.

The rest of the summer and the beginning of fall blur through to September. 

You were seething with anger.

The kind of anger that has you near in tears. 

Simon had missed your sister's funeral, the one event that you had hoped would bring you both closer in your shared grief.

You had told him multiple times throughout the last week where and when to meet you.

He assured you he would be there for you.

He was a fucking liar. 

You practically spring out of your car, parked next to his idle truck, taking heavy steps up to the house door.

The door pulls open, slamming against the house's side, making Simon awake on the couch.

The sight makes your eye twitch.

He lay dormant, several beer bottles strung across the coffee table.

And to think things were going pretty well between you two, but this was beyond belief, unforgivable.

While you were crying over your sister's casket, he was here.

Sleeping his drunkenness away. 

"Don't tell me you're drunk," you ballistically say, tossing your purse onto the kitchen table with force. 

"I'm not tellin' you a thing," he monotonously says like this is some joke. 

"I needed you, and you were proper drunk?" Your voice rises. "I—I needed you, Simon," your voice shakes. "You gave up on me."

He says nothing, just lies there.

Your jaw ticks.

You rush over to him, forcing him to stand. "It's been—get up! It's been months, Simon!" You shout out, your voice filled with desperation. "Johnny is dead—gone," you snap out, eyes locking onto his. "He's been gone, and so have you. Except Johnny has an excuse. You don't," your chest is heaving. 

Simon's eyes widen, noticeably aggravated. "I—" 

"People die every day—and don't get me wrong, I am so fucking sorry, so fucking sorry, that it was Johnny—" You begin, sincerity in your voice as tears prickle down your cheeks. 

"Don't—" He starts in a warning tone. 

"Truly, I am. And I get it; you didn't need things from each other. But I need you. And I need to know you won't just abandon me when times get tough for you," your hands move through your hair, attempting to soothe yourself before more words flow out. "You need to grow the fuck up and talk to me like a grown-ass man and not a fucking pubescent boy!"

"Fuck, fine! Simon snaps. "It fuckin' killed me when Johnny died. I—he was my best friend, my brother. My only family. Gone." Tears spill down his cheeks as his arms flail around. 

You stand silently before your tongue comes out, wiping away the salty tears coating your lips. 

"Simon, I know you don't believe this, but we are family—me and you," you breathe out, trying to control your breathing.

"It broke me," he whispers solemnly. "Split me in half."

"I get that," you begin nodding your head, emotion clogging your throat. "But I need you to be whole."

"I, I can't," he stares at the floor, his hand closing into a tight fist. 

"Simon. You, you can't let it fester. It's consuming your life. Our marriage." Your desperate eyes drift to him, filled with fear. "Let me help you," you beg. "I can help put you back together again." 

"No. You don't understand," he lifts his head back to look at you, his eyes pleading for comprehension. "I think I'm broken beyond repair."

That was before.

It was December now.

You find yourself in the chilling hospital room, tears streaming down your face as you ponder the disintegration of your marriage with Simon.

You suffered a massive heart attack some days ago. 

A complication from the heart disease. 

It had weakened your heart muscle and lead to some brain damage. 

The doctor said treatment options were no longer available. 

So, instead of that, he switched his focus to comfort care.

Essentially, he's making it easier for you to die. 

It's strange. 

You know you're dying.

And you thought that death brings people together.

But you and Simon might as well be light-years apart.

You glance at Simon sitting in the chair across from you, anxiously tapping his foot. 

He's nervous.

But not about you dying.

About something else entirely.

You can tell.

You can always tell.

Your eyes flick to the hospital room door, opening wide before your doctor beckons Simon to come outside with him. 

Their conversation is muffled, but you catch the tail-end of it. 

"It would be best to take her home. Keep her comfortable."

Now you have the confirmation. 

You're going to die.

Just not sure when it will come.

You just have to sit and wait while slowly withering into oblivion.

"Hospice care can be provided to support and comfort her during this time," the doctor adds, his voice a distant echo.

A hot tear slips down your cheek, pooling onto your hospital gown.

You see Simon nodding his head along, finger resting on his chin in thought.

You want to scream.

And cry.

And punch someone.

And pray.

And move back home.

But you can't.

You feel utterly and hopelessly helpless in your own body. 

Life works in a mysterious, fucked up kind of way.

It's not fair. 

It's not linear.

And it's certainly not always kind.

All that's left to do is do what Simon did when Johnny died, go through the motions, the daily routine that feels like a never-ending cycle, and eventually, your physical body will leave you.

Your mind will wander far beyond anyone's grasp, yearning for a connection bond that cannot be.

MONTH ONE: January

You took up journaling.

Your hospice nurse suggested you take up the hobby.

So you did.

It wasn't as therapeutic as you thought.

It was just recounting what you ate that morning and what you planned to do the next day, the mundane details of life that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Boring, menial thoughts.

You didn't have much to say.

The only thing you thought of these days was what would happen in death.

Simon was kinder now.

Said he wanted to leave with you. 

You feel guilty for having to leave him alone.

Even though you have no choice in the matter.

You hope you don't see him in the afterlife. 

His life belongs here.

On the surface.

You've had some trouble walking.

Even fell in the hallway while trying to reach for a side rail Simon had installed.

You cried and pleaded for him not to help you up.

He managed to gather your heaving body in his arms and held you tight as you sobbed into his shirt about how you didn't want to die.

He didn't sleep that night.

Mind was too riddled with guilt; instead, he prayed.

With a cross to his heart, he hit his knees and closed his eyes, murmuring into the darkness to any entity who would listen. 

You thought it was nice when you turned to your side to hear his hushed whispers. 

He was praying for you to get better, you thought.

You didn't even realize he was praying for forgiveness for his own sins. 

MONTH TWO: February

Your journal hobby has quickly dissipated as quickly as it began. 

It's become harder to move.

You have to rely on Simon to do measly tasks. 

It's humiliating, to say the least.

"You okay, bug?" Simon asks as the warm, sudsy sponge moves across your back, shining you clean.

"Yeah," your voice is hushed as your lips flatline. "I can do it," you assure, reaching for the sponge.

"You sure?" His eyebrow lifts. "I'm happy to—"

"Just give me the fucking sponge," you grit, ripping the sponge away from him to scrub your arm.

You find you're weaker than you thought. 

You can barely hold up the light sponge to clean yourself. 

Your hand sinks down into the warm bath water before you attempt to pull it up higher, over and over, until you toss the sponge over the lip of the tub.

It hits the tile, releasing water and bubbles on the floor.

Your head drops into your hands, tears mixing with the bath water.

"It's, it's really happening," you heave into your hands. "I can't even lift a fucking sponge, Simon," you say, disgust coating your words. 

Simon leans forward, hand grazing your back. "I'm so sorry, bug," his voice trembles.

You turn to look at him, with red, puffy eyes and slick tears slipping down and into his beard. 

"Don't apologize," you affirm with a sniffle. "You didn't do this to me."

He almost throws up but chokes down the bile to speak. 

"Can I, can I finish?" He almost pleads.

You give him a soft nod and a gentle smile. 

He grabs a fresh sponge and repeats the same process, this time being more gentle.

Like he's purposely trying to remember the feeling of your body under his hands. 

It makes you feel loved again.

MONTH THREE: March

You were slowly withering away right before your own eyes. 

You didn't even recognize yourself in the mirror.

Your skin has gone pale and blotchy and started mottling.

It's cold to the touch, void of any warmth.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Simon cooly says, pressing a kiss on your head.

"Where are you going?" You ask curiously. 

"I told you I had to pick up Price's kid from school," he says warmly. "You don't remember?"

"Yeah. I, I remember," you nod your head, plastering a reassuring smile.

You really didn't remember.

Memory is a slippery thing these days, evading your grasp like a wisp of smoke. 

The moment something touches your brain, it usually escapes within an hour. 

It's a constant source of frustration, a relentless storm that rages within you.

Makes you want to throw a chair across the room.

He leaves, not even realizing the question has you spiraling.

Proding and pinching at your skull's skin to regain control of your brain. 

You must look insane.

But to you, this is the only thing that makes you feel sane and in control of your body.

The feeling of inability is one of the most haunting prospects.

The hunger for control gnaws at you, a ruthless creature that refuses to be sated.

But it's slipping through your very fingers like sand.

Fast and all at once. 

MONTH FOUR: April

By mid-April, your body feels hollow.

You can't do much of anything.

Though you did find some peace with your morality. 

Finally, you came to terms with your reality. 

And then, a spark of courage ignited, urging you to step out of the house for the first time in a while. 

There was an unusual, almost compelling, need to visit Johnny's grave.

You had only done so once, but it would be nice to leave some flowers.

Your hospice nurse drives you and waits in the car as you find his grave slightly disheveled like someone had messed with it.

Maybe even crawled out of it.

You're too tired to investigate.

You sit in the soft dirt, legs crossed as the sun beats on your head.

The lull of sleep licks your brain and makes your eyes close and unclose lightly. 

You yawn, stretching your arms out before the feeling of sleep becomes too strong. 

You find yourself lying next to Johnny, separated only by a few feet of dirt. 

You feel calm, peaceful even. 

Though when your eyes shut for the last time, you don't see the bright, ethereal light you imagined.

You see nothing but darkness. 

And smell brimstone.

It couldn't be. 

This wasn't the heaven you were promised, a place of eternal peace and joy. 

It was a cruel joke, a betrayal of the highest order.

You were supposed to be in a place of eternal love.

An incomparable beauty. 

This looked more like—

"Bastard sold you out, m'afraid," a voice croaked in the darkness.

The figure was indistinct, a mere shadow in the darkness, but its presence was suffocating, a palpable sense of doom that felt all too familiar, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from. 

"Who—who are you?" You speak into the darkness, not paying much heed to what he said. 

"I shall not speak my name, my dear," the voice remarks. "You shall find out soon enough," he assures, pure humor coating his tongue.

Your voice trembled with fear, barely audible in the oppressive darkness. "How—how am I here?" You managed to stammer, your terror evident. 

A heinous laugh comes from the dark and shoots into your eardrum. "Your husband called upon me some time ago," he says. "He wanted his friend back, so he offered me your soul in return for him back." His voice is simple and casual as if it were ordinary. 

Your heart thumps in your chest, and your lungs deflate quicker than they inflate. 

"N—no. Simon...he loves me," you try to contradict. "He—he wouldn't do that," you speak into the darkness, voice tight. 

"Loves his friend more," he casually says.

Your eyes widen as tears begin to pour down in a consistent stream down your face; you try to move your arms but find your arms are magically constricted to your side. 

"Don't worry. We'll have fun—you and I," his tone is insidious.

Simon had bartered your life for his own selfish volition and damned you to an eternity in hell.

That—that serpent. 

What kind of diabolical monster would do something so heinous.

He promised you a lifetime of love.

A baby that you would share.

A tangible tell of your love.

He was a false prophet. 

When did he find time to do this deal?

Oh. Oh.

He did act skittish that night. 

That—that night that you asked about him praying.

You just assumed he was praying to God to help him cope by perhaps showing some signs of Johnny.

Help him deal with the trauma in any way he could. 

He was instead striking up a deal.

And it wasn't with God.

mini author’s note: do share your tearful thoughts in the comments!

Can you pls write period sex with Ghost 😭🥰🥰

heheheh period sex is a fave to me!!!! I hope u enjoy anon <333

CW: Period sex, blood

Simon was desperate to put you out of your glum misery, the pout of your lip and the flair of your brows as you kneeled over in pain only urged him on more as he furiously tapped into his phone ways to help with period cramps.

He had tried everything; a hot water bottle, a nice bath, tea, massages. It all just left you feeling too hot or overwhelmed and never seemed to subside the internal torment of your belly.

Brown eyes widened slightly as he took in the word “sex” blurted as 1) on some shitty magazine website. Pupils flickered between each line taking in how ‘making love’ was a great way to ease period cramps.

It was a tender subject while you were menstruating, Simon’s body timid as he approached your skulking figure.

“Baby, I’ve been doing research on how to help with your period cramps and I’m willing to try it if you want too?”

“Mmmm… Si, no more home remedies… what is it?”

“Fucking.”

Your eyes looked at his, face tense as you checked for a joking smirk but your boyfriend only just stared at you, holding his phone up to show he was being truthful.

“You want to… fuck? Me? While I’m on my period?”

Simon nodded, almost hesitantly as he heard the unsureness in your tone. You blinked.

“What if it grosses you out? Or smells? Or looks weird? Or you get chunks on your dick?”

Simon shook his head, a chuckle leaving his throat as he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your hairline.

“I’ve seen every bit of you. Nothing would gross me out. It’s completely natural, love. Besides, I see blood too often, feels like second nature to me now.”

Your body was rigid as you laid awkwardly on a towel, your thighs widened as Simon took in the sight of you. He licked his chapped lips, taking in the puff of your swollen pussy and the gentle throb of your clit. You had quickly washed yourself before this, incredibly self conscious, even though your boyfriend urged that it wasn’t necessary.

Slick pooled at your entrance, the light filter of red hinting through as Simon locked his hips against yours, rubbing the mushroom tip over your wet folds, a moan escaping your mouth as you clutched onto his biceps.

He lined himself against your aching hole, pushing in slightly as you whined before edging himself in inch by inch. It wasn’t long until he bottomed out, thick cock filling you to the brim as he began to rock back and forth, kissing your gummy walls with each thrust as you writhed underneath him.

“That’s it baby, does that feel good?”

You nodded, biting your lip in the process as a hand rubbed down on your belly, pushing slightly as he picked up his pace, thrusting into your wet heat as you mewled.

His shaft was coated in your slick and a light dribble of blood, the metallic taste in the air sending something carnal through him as he fucked himself into you at a rough pace, his eyes watching the way your breasts jiggled and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Fuck- Si - so, so good.”

“I know baby, just needed me to fuck you silly to feel better.”

You felt aligned with him as he ached his member into you before spilling his delectable seed into your fertile cunt.

Spoiler alert, you didn’t get a period for 9 months after this. Seemed to help your cramping problem.

Our Sniper (PT 9)

Prolog- After entering the hotel you notice how Ghost and Konig were bonding with Keegan. You get a text from Price saying that he wanted to do a patrol with you until things go wrong and you and Price run into someone who you wish you never met.

Warning- Smut, breeding kink kinda, Blood, Swearing

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      The four of you began to walk to the hotel as you looked around the village and smiled as the place was beautiful. König saw how you looked around and smiled as he thought your reactions were cute by how you looked around. The group entered a hotel as Ghost and Soap checked in “Do you think that we sleep together or separately?” asked König as you and he looked at a painting on the wall “Well we are sleeping together either way.” You said as he smiled under the hood “Let’s go.” Said Soap as you and König followed them to a room that had two rooms. You and König entered the more private room as König kisses your neck. You blush and face him as he removes his hood and you remove your face mask as you two began to make out. He growls in the kiss a little as he cornered you to the wall and begins to kiss and bite at your neck. You held onto him as the doorknob was turning. König soaked it shut with one hand as he continued to attack your neck and collarbone with bite marks and hickeys. 

     You were about to say something but he picks you up with one arm as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He bites your earlobe and begins to whisper in your ear in a harsh and tough tone “You better not make a fucking sound .” He said as you nod and whimper as you held him, taking your shorts off and his pants, leaving you two in your underwear and bra. You blush and whimper as you get him already hard and pressing against you “What if they hear us ?” You said whispering as König rolls his eyes as he grips your breast and rips the bra off as it falls to the ground. You were about to yell at him as then he grinds his hard on your covered area making your breath hitch. He smiles a little as he pulls your panties to the side “Wet already?~” he said as you nod “Please König.” You said as König gets his dick out and starts to tease your entrance with it. “Please what ?” He said as he wanted to hear you say what you wanted “P please fuck me .” You whimpered as he entered you then covered your mouth as you moaned into his hand. “Is everything on in there?” Asked Soap as König low growls and bites your neck “Everything is fine .” He said as he began to thrust into you. You tighten around him as he pants and tries to keep himself quiet “Good fucking girl that’s it, take this fucking dick .” He said as he moves faster as you moan more into his hand. You could feel your climax build up as you were really into this rough side of him. “Are you gonna cum baby ?” He asked as he kisses your neck. You nod as you tighten up “Shit I’m close as well just keep fucking being a good bitch .” He said as his legs shake. König went faster and harder as you finally cum making hitting bite your neck roughly. seconds later he cums in you hard to the point that it’s leaking. He pulls back and looks at your fucked-out expression as you try to catch your breath. 

    He pants as he carries you to the bed and lays you both down and covers your mouth. You could still feel him in you as you whimper “It’s ok .. just stay like that daring .” He said as he pulled out and sees his cum come out of you a little. He chuckles “I might as well got you pregnant by how much of my cum is leaking out ~,” he said as he chuckled and kissed your head as you both passed out.

            You woke up and looked around as your body felt sore and you looked over to see that König was still asleep as he was holding onto you you smiled and tried to get up as you were pulled back down you looked over to see that he was awake “Just let me hold you ok “ he said as you not and let him hold you. A few hours went by as you got up and got dressed in a baggie t-shirt and jeans with Converse. When you left the room you saw that Ghost was drinking coffee as he looked tired. You walked over and rubbed his head and kissed it “Morning” you said as you smiled and he just mumbled morning. You sat down and went on your phone to see that there was a new article on the war that was happening. As you continued to read it you didn’t realize how much you were jumping your leg until Riley wined and placed his head on your leg making you snap out of it. You looked at Riley and smiled at your pet's head and turned your phone off and sighed. Soap looked over and sighed as he had an idea “Hey snipe “ he said as you looked over at him to see that he was holding a rocket launcher “Wanna test this out ?” He asked as his face lit up “Jonny ….how the fuck did you get a rocket launcher in here “ said Ghost confused “I have my ways” he said with a sly smile. You were confused as Keegan walked in “He had one of your soldiers bring it in last night.” He said as Soap looked at him “Killjoy” he said as you laughed and walked over to see it inside the case.

     You smiled and looked at Soap “Where do you wanna test it?” You asked as Soap smirked and grabs the case and leads you outside. Ghost shook his head as König walked out and looked around “Where is she ?” He asked as Ghost sips his coffee “Testing something out something with Soap” he said as König didn’t question anything and sat down. Keegan sat down on the table as Ghost looked at König and they were talking with their eyes “So how long have you two been friends ?” Asked König as he looked at Keegan who looked at the two of them “For a while since I can remember “ he said and chuckled as he recalled some memories. “Do you like her ?” Asked Ghost as König looks at Ghost like he wasn’t supposed to say that. Keegan almost spat out his drink as he coughed and swallowed and looked at Ghost “She’s a good friend.” He said, wiping his mouth. Ghost was going to add something when Keegan continued “I’m just protective over her because of what she has been through. Yeah, she’s pretty cute and adorable but still.” He said as he glares at Ghost “What else has she been through besides you shooting her in the leg “ said Konig as Keegan chuckles nervously at that remark “I mean what I heard was that her old group would make her do stuff for information, and how she saw her parents die and yeah.. “ he said as he continues to drink. Both könig and Ghost looked at each other and said nothing. Konig cuts the silence “Was she violent ?” He asked as Keegan’s eyes widened a little then went back to normal “You too?” Said ghost chuckling as Keegan looked at him then two as they laughed. 

    When you and Soap came back you walked to the kitchen to see that the three one them were talking you smiled to yourself as you leaned on the doorframe. König looked over and smiled as he got up and kissed you and walked past you to sit on the couch. You smiled and looked at Ghost to see that he and Keegan were comparing their masks.  “How was the rocket launcher?” Asked Ghost looking at you “It was badass!” You said and smiled “Yeah she blew up a car.” said Soap as he pats your back. You smiled and looked at your phone to see that you got a message from Price “Dad: Heading out for patrolling, wanna join?” You smiled and went to your room and put your mask on and a black jacket as you replied “Me: Sure I’m on my way “ you said and hit send. You kissed Ghost's head and König’s lips as you left the room and hotel. Keegan looked at Konig who was smiling and looked at you leaving. “I’m guessing that she is your girlfriend?” He asked as Konig nodded.

    As you walked with Price you two began to talk to cut the silence he clears his throat “How’s your nose?” He asked as you looked at him.  “It’s healing pretty good, “ you said and smiled as you completely forgot about that you could feel a slight pain on your nose he nodded as you two continued to walk.  As you two walked through the empty street a group of what-to-be thugs surrounded you both as a figured approach from the front center “Captain Price, long time no see.” Said a voice that made your hair stick up as you got stiff and were afraid to move. Price aimed his rifle at the figure as you were shaking “No…” you said and looked at the person “Hello darling long time no see. “ said Makarov, as he was standing there looking at you, and Price, was holding his Desert Eagle in his right hand and pointed down. 

       “What the fuck do you want.” Said price through his teeth as Makarov signaled one of his soldiers while looking at Price. Price was hit in the stomach by a rifle making him fall to the ground and cough “Price!” You said as two other soldiers held you by the arms as Makarov walked to Price and knelt. “Since you wanted to take something from me I’m thinking about taking something back in return .” He said as he grabs Price’s hair and slams his face on the ground making you flinch. You looked at Price hoping that he would get up and beat him up but nothing happened. Makarov scoffed as he walked to you and you struggled to get out of his grasp as the soldiers tried to hold you still. Makarov grabs your chin and makes you look at him. He was lining up at you for a second and then sighs at the men to let you do. You turned to run but he grabbed your hair and yanked you back to his chest as he put a rag of chloroform over your mouth making you slowly stop fighting and pass out on him.  “Let’s go, we have what we need, “ he said as he looked at Price who was still knocked out, and chuckled “Until we meet again Price,” he said as he carried you to the van and got in as the van drove off.

      Price woke up and groaned in pain as he felt pain in his stomach and face. He regains his memory and looks over to see that you were missing “Snipe?!” He said and got up and looked around screaming your name. He groans in pain as it began to rain he felt his blood run down from his nose and head as a car pulled up and out came Gaz and Ghost. Gaz ran to Price and helped him in the car “What the fuck happened “said Gas as he looks back at Price who was coughing and grunting “Where’s Snipe?” Asked Ghost looking around in the car “She’s kidnapped “ he said as Ghost's eyes widen “By who ? “ said Gaz as Ghost was going on his walkie, “We have a code Grey, I Repeat a code Grey,” he said as he looked at Price to see his blood was getting into his beard. Ghost punches the glass as he knew that this was not a drill and this was real “Makarov .. took her .” Said Price as he coughs.

Our Sniper (pt 6)

Prologue- When you told them little bit about your pat you took the day off and worked in the storage department until Ghost invites you to his office.

Warning- smut , language , little bit of angst , threesome, Dom König , Dom Ghost

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You sit down on the bed and sigh as you know that had your folder “When did it happen” said Ghost coldly as you felt like he was starting into your soul “It was 4 years ago.” You said and looked up “I’m not a traitor I promise I have no relationship with that monster anymore .” You said and looked at König who was reading “It says that you were in his army as an undercover for a short time but continued to go back to him even when the mission was over .” He said then looked at you “Why.”. You felt your throat go dry as you wanted to say the answer but didn’t know how to explain it

“He had a bomb to my neck.. that’s why I had to wake in hoodies for a long time before we met.” You said and looked at Ghost “If I didn’t come back to him he would have blown me up .” You said and sighed. Ghost knew you didn’t want to talk about it; he knew what else he did to you. König sat on the bed and rubbed your back as you finched a little “How did he even get you ?” You froze up and began to shake. “Shit, “said Ghost as he sits next to you and holds you as you began to shake more and hyperventilate “ Konig … step outside.” Said Ghost as you began to hold Ghost tightly. Konig followed the order and stepped outside. Ghost rubs your head and kisses it “ it’s ok .. he’s not here to hurt you .” He said as you began to have a full-blown panic attack.

König could hear Ghost trying to comfort you as he began to walk away thinking that he made things worse. He went to his office and took his hood off and sat down. He took his knife out and played with it to try and keep his mind off of stuff. Hours went by and there was a knock on the door he sighs and put his hood in “Enter .” He said as Price entered in “Hey Konig.” He said as he closed the door. König sighs and rubbed pinches the bridge of his nose “She’s fine “ said Soap as he sat in the chair across from Konig “She just doesn't want to talk about it .” Said Soap as he sighs “Can you tell me what happened “ asked König as Soap nods “ Years ago Makarov stole her during a mission with 141. He torched her for hours until he broke her and … when we found her she wasn’t the same it was like a part of her was dead and gone .” He said as Konig remembers the scars on you “ while doing a mission with 141. He capture and torched her for hours on end until he broke her and … when we found her she wasn’t the same it was like a part of her was dead and gone .” He said as Konig remembers the scars on you.

Ghost entered the room with you wrapped in blankets like a burrito. He smiles a little bit “ She wants to see you.” he said as you climbed into his lap and sat there. Konig places his hands on your waist and head as you rest your head on his chest. He kissed it and smiles “ You look so comfortable in that cocoon.” said Soap as you nod. Konig rubbed your head and ran his fingers through your hair “I'm so sorry .” he said as he kisses your head. You smiled and looked up at him as you lifted his hood and kissed him. When Soap and Ghost left, Konig held you on his lap while he was working “ If he sends me one more Email I'm going to kill him.” he said as you looked over to see him emailing someone. You put the blanket around König as well “Babe what are you doing ?” He asked as he looks at you. You said nothing and undid his belt and took your pants off and panties “Babe we don’t.. we can’t ..” he said as you kiss him and enter him into you as you moan softly and he held onto your hips. König grabs your ass and pulls you more into him “I have a meeting with someone in a few minutes .” He said as you moaned into his neck and held onto him. “If he sends me one more Email I'm going to. König held onto your hips as he began to bounce you on him. “Shit I forgot how good you felt,” he said as he kept a slow pace. You were moaning as you felt him stretch you out whenever you went down.

König went a little bit roughed as he knew your neck “Fuck I needed this .” He said as he went harder as you held onto him. He looks at you to see your eyes were shut as he grabbed your neck and stood up making you lie down on his desk “Keep your eyes on me.” He said in a rough tone as you looked at him and moaned more. He felt the desk move a little as he went harder and rougher. You arch your back as he got your G-spot “Fuck Konig right there!” You said as you began to rub your clit. König continued the pace as he grows indicating that he was close, “That’s right babe cum on me, cum on this dick~.” He said as he went harder and rougher. You couldn’t hold back any longer as you came and arched your back. König came inside of you and he bit your shoulder. König held you close as he was catching his breath and saw on his screen say “Missed meeting .” He rolled his eyes as he looked at your face and kissed it “The meeting was going to be boring anyway.” He said as he chuckled. König got you off of him as he was praising you “You did such a good job, honey .” He said as he grabbed a rag and began to clean you off. König picked you up and places you on a couch as he puts his dick back into his pants.

You looked at him as he turned his computer off and went over to where you were and sat next to you “Do you think you can walk ?” He asked as you nod and sat up leaning onto him. König smiled and played with your hair “If you two are done fucking can I come in.” Said Price as you sat up and looked at König in confusion and fear. Price opened the door and looked at you and König on the couch. You tried to move away from König but he grabbed your waist and placed you back onto his chest. Price was not amused as he closed the door “How are you feeling ?” Asked Price as he pulled up a chair to the couch and pulled out a first aid and placed it on his thigh.

You looked at it as he opened it and put gloves on. Your anxiety spiked up as you felt König lift your shirt to your stomach where the stitches were. Price places his hand near the stitches making you hiss in pain and flinch “Relax kid all I’m going to do is clean it .” Said Price looking at your scared expression. He sighed as he leaned back on the chair and rubbed his face as he sighed “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He said as he grabbed some alcohol wipes and gently applied them on the area as he dug his nails into König’s arm “It’s ok darling it’s going to hurt for a little bit.” said König as he kissed his head. You took deep breaths when you saw Price put some cream on a bandage and place it on your stitches “I’m surprised that you didn’t break a stitch .” Said Price looking at you. You rolled your eyes and smiled as you knew he was refuting it. When Price was done he leaned back as König put your shirt back down. You sat up and stretched as you stood up. “If you want to, you can go back to your office or work in the weapon department.” Said Price getting up.

You stood up as you looked at Price, you hisses in pain “I can do the storage .”You said as König helped you walk. You walked out of König’s office as you walked to your room to get changed. You sat on the bed as König grabs some sweatpants and a tang top “Do you need help?” He asked as you grabbed it and took your shirt off and put the tang top on. He looked at your collarbone and saw his mark on you and smiled a little “Are you sure that I wasn’t rough?” He asked as he lifted your chin so that you were looking at him. You nod as he kisses you lightly “I have to get back to work .” He said as he fixed his hood and leaves the room. You put your pants on and tied your boots as you left the room.

You walked into the storage room and saw that people were looking at you and murmuring to their friends. You didn’t let it bother you as you began to do your work and check if everything is in order. You climbed up some shelves and sat on top of it and saw the whole warehouse. You lean back on your forearms and relax. “Doesn't know this was your comfort place too.” Said Ghost as he walks beside you and sits down. You looked at him and smiled a little. “Didn’t know it was yours .” You said as he held your hand “I’m guessing that people are giving you problems.” Said Ghost as you laid your head on his lap. Ghost rubbed your head as you looked at him. He was looking at you as you blushed a little. Ghost looked around. “Want to go to my office ?” He asked as he played with your hair. You nod as you were hypnotized by how his hands would play with your hair making you super relaxed. Ghost chuckles as he helps you up the two of you climbed down the shelves and jumped down on the last 3.

You two began to walk to Ghost's office “Lieutenant, there are some reports that you need to sign off .” Said a cadet as he held onto a file. Ghost groaned as he looked at the Cadet “Send them to me.” Said Ghost as he shoves you into his office “Yes sir .” Said the cadet as he saluted and walked away. He enters his office to see you sitting in his chair. He closes and locks the door as he walks more into his office “Get out of my chair” he said as he stands next to you and crosses his arms. You shook your head as he gripped your neck “Now .” He said as you bit your lip slightly. There was a knock at the door as Ghost went over and opened it to see König standing there. He let him in as König looked at you and you could tell that you were in trouble with him. He chuckles and leans the wall as Ghost closes and locks the door and goes to you “ Am I interrupting something ?” He asks as Ghost chuckles and makes you look up at König by gripping your jaw “Nope, the fun just started ~” König walks over to you and grips your neck as you gasped lightly under his touch “Are you being a bad girl ?” He asked as you shook your head. Ghost let go of your jaw as he watches König tease you.

König grabbed your thighs and spreads them a little “Do you want to show our friend here what I did to you earlier ?” Said König in a teasing tone. Your head was everywhere to the point that you couldn’t spread and only nodded. You shook your head as König rubbed your clit making you whimper “I think you want to show him what’s mine “ said König as you began to grind on his hand. You whimpered and moaned as you continue he pulls his hand away and he kisses your neck “Can you do something for my darling?” he said as you tried to grip his hair your arms were too tired so you just nod. He looks at Ghost who was leaning on the wall crossing his arms “ Go make him feel what I get every night ~.” He said as you stood up and looked over at Ghost as you blushes “ And, crawl towards him ~.” Added König as you took your mask off and got down on all fours then crawled towards him.

When you got to Ghost you sat in front of him and began to unzip his pants. He looks down at you with needs and wants like how he has been fantasizing about this for a long time. You got to his boxers and you could see the dick print already as your mouth watered “Use your words Sweetie and tell me what you want ~.” Said Ghost as he puts his thumb to the bottom of your lip “I… I want your dick .” You said as your head began to already go blank. Ghost looked at König and gets his dick out and places it on your lips “Go ahead then ~” he said as she rubs her head you open your mouth and began to take him into your mouth. You could hear him groan with pleasure as you began to use your hands for the parts that you couldn’t reach or get to. “S-shit König she is so good .” Said Ghost as you felt something posting at your entrance. Ghost grabs your hair making you ur yelp “Focus on me you fucking slut ~” he said as you began to go deeper and take more of him. König enters into you making your eyes widen and arch your back you felt yourself stretch around him as he back to thrust into you “Good girl ~” said König as he continues. You moan around Ghost's dick and felt every vain that he had “S shit .” Said Ghost as he gets closer to cumming. You felt so stuffed and yet so happy that you were finally getting fucked by these two. König sped up the pace and plays with your clit making you moan and squirm “That’s it baby girl” said König as you were getting close to cumming very quickly. Ghost grunts and breaths heavily “S shit König can she swallow?” Said Ghost as he puts his head more in his dick “Yes she can swallow whatever you give her .~” said König as he slaps your ass making you yelp. Ghost shoves his whole shaft down your throat and cums “Good girl. Holy shit baby you did such a good job.” Said Ghosdt as he taps the tip on your lips again before sitting down and still having his dick out. You began to moan as König was hitting all the right places “That’s it baby cum on me .” He said and grabs your neck and sits up making his dock go deeper into you. You were mumbling words as you were almost theor “Cum on this dick fucking you while I'm fucking your insides ~” said König as you became to cum making your legs shake. König bites your neck as he could Inside of you.

The room smelled like sweat and sex as you and König were panting. Ghost walked over and rubs your cheek “You did so well for us baby girl “ he said as you whimper from the overstimulation. König pulled out and held you close to him “Ghost .. help me clean her off .” He said as he puts his boxers back on and picks you up. Ghost nods and grabs a rag then leaves for a while to get some more stuff “das hast du so gut gemacht Schatz (You did so good darling).” Said Kônig as he kisses your head and rubs your back he sits you on a chair as he continues to dress. Ghost comes in with a bowl of water and some snacks he walks over to you and kneels as he damps the rag and begins to clean you off. You looked at him and noticed that he still had his mask on the whole time making you feel doubtful. ghost noticed how you looked at him and sighed “Only in private sweetheart ok .” He said as calmly as he takes the skull mask off and the black ski mask. You smiled a little then hisses in pain when he got to your sour area “I know it hurts honey but you're doing so good .” Said Ghost as she tries to hurry. König looks over to see how Ghost was treating you and how your body responded and smiles a little as he took his hood off. He walks over with your pants and jacket “Sorry for ripping your panties, darling .” He said as his eyes widen in confusion and looked over at the area to see the fabric. You glared at him as he chuckles nervously “I’ll get you a new one .” He said as Ghost chuckles “König your lucky I don’t beat your German ass .” You said as he helps you put your pants on.

The three of you left the office as König was helping you go to your room “Babe I’m not tired .” You said with a yawn as Ghost goes off somewhere “You are .” stated König as he picks you up and carried you. You lean your head on his chest as he looks down at you and smiled. Once he enters your room he lays you on the bed and tucks you in “Now you rest.” He said as he kisses your head. You nod as you fall asleep while looking at him. König leaves the room closing the door quietly and walks down the halls and to the main base. He begins to clean up his AK as Ghost goes up to him “We have a new mission and she is included in it.” Said Ghost as he sets a file next to him. König looks at the file and opens it “The brief is that it’s a factory that some Russians are using to store weapons .” Said Ghost as König looks at the factory and nods “What’s our position in this ?” He asked as Ghost leans on the wall “To destroy some tanks that are filled with some kind of gas and blow that shit up to pieces .” He said as König eyes widen a little. “She is going to have fun .” Said König as Ghost smirks under the mask “That she will indeed.”

konig or ghost x reader? or both

thank u guys so so so so so much for all the love on the konig/ghost thoughts, i really appreciate all the likes and reblogs on it and im working on something similar rn!

unorganized thoughts that i may turn into fics

✦konig meine frau✦

this man is a certified freak. like 7 days a week. i stand by the fact that it's always the quiet ones. most ppl look at him and are like 'aww subby inexperienced baby boy' (and usually so do i) but versatility yk. anyways i feel like he actually has a really long tongue, 👀 if yk what i mean. and loves edging, just not on himself because it frustrates him. anyways, back to the original plot of this post, i think he almost likes receiving as much as giving but emphasis on that almost.

he's a clit sucker, sorry not sorry to say it. and loves holding your hips against the bed so you can't squirm. one of my personal hc's is that he can play the piano really good and you know what they say about piano players........

overall he's just perfect. and don't even get me started on aftercare with him cause WHEW CHILE

hes just so. so hot.

i think his favorite part of it though is foreplay. only cause he gets to learn about what your turn ons are and where you want him to touch you. also he just really likes teasing. when you do it to him though, he becomes whiney and impatient, which leads me to my next thing,

KONIG IS A SUB LEANING SWITCH

it's just really easy to get him to fall apart under your touch, like i mentioned in the dick headcanons, he's very sensitive.

he loves kissing, licking and just being all over you and you being fully receptive of it. this man would struggle so hard in public to not do that. he understands that it's not socially acceptable in public but he just can't help it<3 i love him.

oral fixation konig? oral fixation konig.

he has to have his mouth on something, or be doing something to be comfortable. so usually you'd just let him suck your fingers or something to distract him (he just like me fr)

mommy kink konig? hear me out.

like imagining this 6'10 guy who's probably twice my age moaning under me and calling me mommy is just so. mmmm yummy

┆☆ghosty my love☆┆

hmmm where do i even start. yk i feel like i have to preface this by saying i don't feel like ghost and myself would work out if we're talkin about his canon personality so it's hard to write for him without it being heavily ooc.

like he's just too nonchalant. like it's not chalanting for me. where tf is the chalance at.

but anyways, i feel like he's a trial and error yk yk.

like when you're someone like ghost, pussy eating isn't gonna be the first thing on your mind.

so he'd have to practice on you. (that's a great fic idea right there) which ultimately leads to you not being able to walk the next morning but that's probably fine. ghost is so strong that he can probably just carry you anyways.

i feel like ghost would let out more emotion during sex. like he barely even blinks normally. but while he's in the reverse cowgirl position with you while everyone's asleep? expressive as hell.

over time, i feel like he knows your body better than you, when he's edging you, you don't even have to say anything for him to know you're about to cum.

he's very observant in that way.

i feel that ghost would be a hard dom. never a switch.

laughs a lot during sex. not like a full FYSUDUDIHFUGFUTDUYVHUJ type of laugh, just like a little chuckle and it's so attractive.

and and and! maybe it's a little muffled bc of his lips being pressed against your skin.

usually does that when he's like, deep in you and ofc you moan and grab at his hand that was right next to your head, cause he's just so overwhelming, but in a good way.

he def has to cum a few times to feel fully satisfied. pent up military man tings. but like remember when i said ghost has rlly thick cum. yeah. that.

always makes you feel so full. before, when he's shoving his thick fingers in you to prepare you for his cock, which is even bigger. during, when he's fucking his cum into you from the previous 3 rounds. and after, when you're still full from his cum as it drips down your thighs and you try to catch your breath.

he definitely loves making you horny on purpose, just to revel in how wet you are as if he has no idea what he does to you.

anyways part 2? cause i most definitely have more thoughts about this FINEEE man. (and konig, my wife, i didn't forget about her)

this konig smut imma post is gonna be OUTRAGEOUS

and it's coming out at like around 12:12 so be ready

pp headcanons!!! with love from owner 1

✰𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈✰

about 8.7 soft, exactly 9 when hard.

the color of the base would be #f2e4cf, and the tip would be #ecb5d2, a nice bubblegum pink.

i fully believe he would have a happy trail, but other than that he shaves.

he's really sensitive and because of that he moans a lot when you just barely touch him.

likes when u do that thing where you kiss/lick the tip slightly, and he's probably one of those guys who either can't hold eye contact or likes looking at you while you do it, can't decide.

his cum is a little more on the liquidy side than the creamy side, i also believe he eats a lot of fruit and drinks water regularly so it'd taste sweet with a hint of salt, but not in a bad way.

speaking of cum, he cums a lot, like if you measure it with a measuring cup then it's about 4 ounces.

i think he's into some weird stuff, like for example he likes to kiss you right after you swallow, not gonna elaborate on that.

❤︎𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕❤︎

idk i guess i think he's around the same when soft AND hard, but we gotta take height and proportions into consideration, since konig is taller, logically, he'd be bigger so, sticking to the first thing i said about him, let's say 8.5

hex code for the base is #e4d4c8.

tip color is a nice dusty rose, like #a47786.

i don't actually think he'd fully shave, i feel like he's more of a trim guy.

not that sensitive, only cause he edges and actually if you do that enough you can practice not cumming for extended amounts of time.

likes when you just play with yourself and let him watch, he likes the fact that you can be completely bare while he's still fully clothed.

when cum is more creamy, it can mean that the person has a high concentration of sperm, which is perfect for ghost, because i feel like it ties into his breeding kink because high sperm concentration means higher fertility.

mmmmm idk i think he's into the d/s dynamic, maybe he'd want you to call him daddy.

also sidenote, i feel like a lot of guys want to be called daddy but aren't actually daddy material. like it's daddy not absent father.

but i think ghost would actually act the part.

ANYWAYS COMMENT FOR PART 2

some1 tell me how i can egt on the dakr web like plss i wanna see somescary images oomggg

Na'vi!Ghost x F!Avatar!Reader

Currently in my Avatar brain rot

You glide through the lush skies of Pandora, the vibrant forest sprawling beneath you, painted in shades of emerald and turquoise. The sun casts a golden glow, illuminating the sweeping landscapes, and you feel the exhilaration of flight coursing through your veins. Beside you, Ghost, a Na’vi of striking stature and unmatched skill, manoeuvres his ikran with grace. You mimic his movements, the wind whipping past you, each twist and turn a dance of freedom that your former life on Earth never hinted at.

It wasn’t long ago that you arrived on Pandora, a curious researcher drawn by the promise of alien flora. But your innocent pursuits shattered when you uncovered the RDA’s true intentions: the decimation of this unearthly paradise for profit. You could no longer stand by. Leaving behind the life you knew, you chose to intertwine your existence with the Na’vi, transferring your consciousness into your avatar, gaining a new body and a new purpose.

Ghost’s laughter echoes across the open sky, encouraging you to push beyond your limits. You had undergone ‘The Dream Hunt,’ a rite that had solidified your bond with the clan. Every heartbeat synchronized with the pulse of your ikran, every moment shared with Ghost a testament to loyalty and trust.

"Catch me if you can!" he shouts, his voice as wild and free as the landscape around you. You dive downward, spiralling closer to the flora, the vivid hues surrounding you bursting with unfamiliar life.

The battle for Pandora isn’t over, but for now, amid the beauty and freedom of the skies, you are exactly where you belong—flying with your newfound family, fighting for a world worth saving.

You laugh joyfully as you both soar through the skies together, your heart swelling with the thrill of our shared adventure. The wind rushes past you, the warm air caressing your skin like a lover's touch. You glance over at Ghost, admiring his strong profile and the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin as he guides his ikran with expert ease.

In that moment, you feel truly alive, more than you ever did back on Earth. The weight of your old life seems to fall away with each beat of your ikran's wings, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose that you've never known before.

As Ghost challenges you to catch him, you grin fiercely, your competitive spirit igniting within you. With a whoop of excitement, you urge your ikran onward, diving down into the dense foliage below.

With a mischievous grin, Ghost takes off towards the distant tree, its massive trunk visible even from high above the canopy. He leans low over his ikran's neck, urging it to fly faster.

"Come on! Show me what you're made of!" he calls out, his voice filled with playful challenge. His ikran responds eagerly, surging forward with powerful beats of its wings, the wind whistling past them as they hurtle through the air.

The journey to the sacred grove is one of exhilaration and breathtakingly beauty. Vibrant flowers and strange, luminescent creatures flash by beneath you, a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes that fills your senses.

Your heart pounds with adrenaline as you race after Ghost, determined to match his speed and agility. Your ikran responds to your commands, its wings beating furiously as it pushes itself to the limit. The wind whips through your hair, sending it streaming out behind you like a banner of midnight silk.

As you draw closer to the Tree of Voices, you can feel its ancient presence calling to you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Its massive trunk rises up from the earth, its branches stretching outwards like the arms of a benevolent giant, sheltering all those who seek refuge beneath its leaves.

You let out a triumphant cry as you finally catch up to Ghost, flying alongside him as you approach the sacred grove.

Ghost guides his ikran in a graceful arc, landing lightly on the soft ground just outside the perimeter of the Tree of Voices. He slides off the creature's back, patting its flank affectionately before turning to watch you land beside him.

His golden eyes sparkle with admiration as he takes in your fluid movements, the way your body moves in perfect synchronicity with your mount. As you dismount, he steps closer, reaching out to brush a stray leaf from your hair, his touch lingering just a moment too long to be purely friendly.

"You never cease to amaze me," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "The way you ride, the way you handle yourself... it's like you were born to this world."

He gestures towards the Tree of Voices, its trunk pulsing with an otherworldly light.

As you step closer to the Tree of Voices, you can feel its energy thrumming through the very ground beneath your feet, a palpable force that sets your nerves alight with anticipation. The air around you shimmers with a faint, iridescent glow, casting everything in a soft, ethereal light.

You turn to face Ghost, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. There's something about the way he looks at you, with such open admiration and desire, that makes you feel like the most beautiful, desirable creature in the universe.

"I wasn't born to this world," you remind him softly, "but sometimes I wonder if I was meant for it. If there was some greater purpose that brought me here, to you."

Ghost reaches out, taking your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

"I believe in fate," he says softly, his eyes locked on yours. "And I believe that our paths were always meant to cross, no matter how far apart we started out."

He steps closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "You may have been born under different stars, but this is where you belong. Here, with me, in this world that we fight for together."

Ghost guides you gently to the soft grass beneath the spreading branches of the Tree of Voices. He lowers himself down, pulling you with him until you're both lying side by side, your bodies pressed close together. He pillows his head on your stomach, looking up at you with a contented smile. His fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, following the lines of your bioluminescent markings.

"This is my favourite place in all of Pandora," he murmurs, his voice soft and dreamy. "It feels like the centre of the world, like everything important happens right here." He nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your belly.

You run your fingers through Ghost's long, dark hair, marvelling at the silky texture. Your other hand traces the contours of his face, mapping the planes and angles of his features. He leans into your touch, his eyes drifting shut as he savours the sensation.

"It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice soft and inviting. You shift slightly, adjusting your position so that you can see more of the tree above you. Its trunk seems to pulse with an inner light, casting a gentle glow over the surrounding area..

Ghost tilts his head back, looking up at you with a curious expression. His hand still rests on your stomach, his touch warm and comforting. "Have you found someone yet?" he asks, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of tension. "Someone to bond with, to share your life with?"

He watches your face closely, searching for any hint of emotion. It's clear that the question means something to him, that he's invested in your answer in a way that goes beyond simple curiosity.

You smile softly, your eyes tracing the bioluminescent tendrils of the Tree of Voices overhead. The air hums with an ethereal energy, each whispering leaf echoing connection and longing. Beneath this ancient sentinel, you lie in a tranquil embrace, Ghost’s head nestled on your belly, his skin shimmering with the bioluminescence that marks his kind.

“I may have found someone,” you say, the words spilling from your lips as you run your fingers gently through his long, silken hair. Your heart thrums in rhythm with the quiet pulsing of the tree. In this sacred sanctuary, beneath the weight of the stars, everything feels alive, even your thoughts. "Someone special" 

A flicker of something - disappointment? jealousy? - flashes across Ghost's face at your words, but it's gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a carefully neutral expression. He sits up slowly, moving to sit cross-legged facing you. His hands rest on his knees, palms upturned in a gesture of openness and vulnerability.

"Tell me about them," he says, his voice carefully controlled. But there's a tightness around his eyes, a clenching of his jaw that betrays his true feelings. "What makes them special? What do you love about them?"

He holds your gaze, his own eyes searching, probing, as if trying to read the secrets of your heart. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken emotions and the distant rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Your gaze lingers on Ghost's face, taking in the subtle changes in his expression. There's a depth of feeling there, a complexity of emotion that belies his youthful appearance. You sense the weight of his questions, the significance they hold for him. In this moment, beneath the eternal watchfulness of the Tree of Voices, you feel the need to be honest, to lay bare the truth of your heart.

"He's strong," you begin, your voice soft but certain. "Strong in spirit, in conviction. He fight for what they believe in, even when the odds are stacked against them." 

You pause, collecting your thoughts, letting the memories wash over you. "And he's kind. So incredibly kind. He sees the beauty in the world, in every living thing, and he cherish it."

As you speak, describing the qualities you admire in your potential mate, Ghost listens intently. A slow realization dawns on him, a dawning understanding that you might be talking about...him. His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in their depths.

"He sounds like someone very special indeed," Ghost murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. He reaches out, tentatively, as if afraid you might disappear, and takes your hand in his. His fingers intertwine with yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own.

"I'm glad you've found someone who brings out the best in you," he continues, his gaze never leaving yours. "Someone worthy of your love and devotion."

You look down at your joined hands, marvelling at the way your fingers fit together so perfectly, as if they were made for each other. When you meet Ghost's gaze again, there's a tenderness in your eyes, a softness that speaks volumes.

"And what about you, Ghost?" you ask, your voice barely more than a breath. "Have you found someone to share your life with? Someone to stand by your side, come what may?"

You squeeze his hand gently, a silent encouragement, a wordless plea. In this moment, suspended in time beneath the ancient Tree of Voices, you find yourself hoping, praying, that perhaps the one you've been seeking all along has been right here beside you all along.

There's a flicker of surprise in Ghost's eyes at your question, followed quickly by a softening, a melting of his features into a look of pure adoration. He raises your joined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

"There is someone," he confirms, his voice low and filled with emotion. "Someone who sees me, truly sees me, in a way no one else ever has." He leans in closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "She's brave and strong, fierce in their convictions. And they love with a passion that takes my breath away."

His gaze locks with yours, intense and unwavering. There's a heat building between you, a crackle of energy that seems to fill the air around you.

"But most importantly," he whispers, his face mere inches from your own, "she makes me feel alive. Like every moment spent in her presence is a gift, a miracle."

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls you closer, until your foreheads touch, until you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

"I want to spend my life with her," he breathes, "to build a future together, to face whatever challenges may come our way."

Your heart races as Ghost draws you close, his words washing over you like a warm breeze. There's a yearning in his eyes, a hunger that mirrors your own, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of his warmth, his strength.

"You paint quite a picture," you murmur, your lips curving into a smile. "This person sounds incredible. Truly remarkable."

You tilt your head, nuzzling into his palm, savouring the roughness of his skin against your own. Your tail sways behind you, a gentle caress against his leg, a silent invitation.

Ghost's breath hitches as your tail brushes against his leg, a shiver running through him at the contact. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you flush against him, your bodies moulding together like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting into place.

"She is," he agrees, his voice rough with emotion. "More than I ever could have dreamed of."

He leans in, his lips ghosting over your jawline, your throat, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "And I want to show her, every day, how much she means to me. How much I cherish her, worship her, love her with every fibre of my being."

His hands roam over your back, your sides, mapping out the curves of your body as if committing them to memory. "I want to give her everything."

Ghost reaches for the end of his braid, the intricate weaving of neural tendrils visible even under the thick strands of hair. He brings it closer to you, his eyes searching yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you.

"Will you allow me?" he asks softly, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and anticipation. "Will you let me join with you, mind, body, and soul? To share in your essence, your very being?"

His queue hovers near yours, the tips of the tendrils brushing against your own, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. It's a profound gesture, one that carries immense significance within Na'vi culture - the joining of two souls, the merging of two lives into one.

Your breath catches in your throat as Ghost's queue nears yours, the implications of this act hitting you like a tidal wave. This is a step beyond intimacy, beyond mere physical pleasure - it's a promise, a commitment, a declaration of love in its purest form.

You meet his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, the raw emotion that threatens to overwhelm you both. In this moment, you know with absolute certainty that this is what you want, what you've always wanted - to be one with him, in every sense of the word.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "Yes, I accept."

Slowly, reverently, you bring your queue forward, allowing it to intertwine with his, the neural tendrils seeking out their counterparts like magnets drawn to each other.

As your queues connect, a rush of sensation washes over Ghost, a flood of emotions and experiences that threaten to sweep him away. He feels your joy, your love, your passion, all intermingling with his own until he can no longer tell where he ends and you begin.

A gasp escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he loses himself in the feeling of your presence inside his mind, your essence flowing through his veins like liquid fire. It's overwhelming, exhilarating, terrifying in its intensity, and yet he knows he would gladly drown in this sea of sensation, surrendering himself completely to the depths of your connection.

When he opens his eyes again, they're shining with unshed tears, the golden irises nearly swallowed whole by the black of his pupils. "Eywa guide us."

As your queues merge, a symphony of sensations crashes over you, drowning you in a tidal wave of emotion. Ghost's love, his devotion, his sheer adoration for you wash over you like a balm, soothing the aches and fears that have haunted you for so long. You feel his strength, his resilience, his unwavering courage, and it mingles with your own, creating something new, something greater than either of you alone.

Memories flash through your mind - moments from Ghost's past, triumphs and tragedies alike, all woven together into a tapestry of experience that adds depth and dimension to the man you love. You see his childhood, his training, his battles, and you feel the weight of his responsibilities, the burden of leadership that he bears with such grace and dignity.

Gently, almost reverently, Ghost lowers you both to the soft grass beneath the ancient tree, his body covering yours like a protective shield. His hands roam over your curves, mapping the contours of your adopted Na'vi form, marvelling at the way your skin seems to glow in the dim light filtering through the canopy above.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath and sets your heart racing. It's a kiss filled with tenderness and passion, a promise of the pleasures to come, and you lose yourself in the taste of him, the feel of his tongue sliding against yours, the scrape of his sharp teeth against your lower lip.

A soft moan escapes your lips as Ghost's hands explore your body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your own hands roam over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that mark him as a warrior and a survivor. You revel in the feel of his skin against yours, the way his body fits so perfectly against your own, like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

When he breaks the kiss, you chase after his lips, unwilling to let him go, but he merely chuckles softly, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he trails his mouth along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His teeth graze your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine, and you arch into him, silently begging for more.

Ghost's lips curve into a smile against your neck as he feels you arch into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his every caress. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin of your throat, marking you as his own, his hands sliding lower to cup the swell of your breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "My perfect mate, my cherished companion." He lifts his head to gaze down at you, his eyes dark with want, a fierce possessiveness etched into the lines of his face. "I will worship you tonight, my love, until the very stars pale in comparison to the radiance of your pleasure."

Your breath hitches as Ghost's hands find your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples in maddeningly teasing strokes. Electricity zings through your body, settling low in your belly, stoking the heat building within you. When he speaks, his words wash over you like honey, sweet and thick, filling you with a sense of belonging, of rightness.

You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently to bring his face closer to yours. "Then take me," you breathe, your voice heavy with need. "Make me yours, Ghost. Claim me, body and soul, under the watchful eye of Eywa."

Your hips roll up to meet his, seeking friction, seeking completion. You want to feel him inside you, stretching you, filling you, joining you in the most intimate way possible.

With a low growl of approval, Ghost allows you to guide his face back to yours, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you both breathless. As he kisses you, his hands make quick work of your clothing, peeling away the flimsy barrier between your bodies until you're laid out bare before him, your skin glowing softly in the moonlight.

He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your curves with undisguised hunger, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Then, with a fluid motion, he sheds his own garments, revealing his battle-hardened body, marred by scars and tattoos, a testament to the life he's lived, the challenges he's faced.

As Ghost bares himself to you, you feel a rush of emotion swell within your chest - awe, admiration, and a deep, abiding love that threatens to overwhelm you. You sit up, reaching out to trace the lines of his scars with trembling fingers, marvelling at the strength and resilience they represent.

"My brave warrior," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "My fierce protector." You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to the scar just above his heart, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your lips.

Ghost shudders as your lips press against his scar, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, skin to skin, heart to heart. For a long moment, he simply holds you, savouring the feel of your body against his, the warmth of your breath mingling with his own.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough, tinged with a vulnerability that few have ever heard. "And you are my heart, my home," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. "Without you, I am lost. With you, I am found."

Slowly, almost reverently, he lowers you both to the soft grass beneath the Tree of Voices, his body covering yours, sheltering you from the cool night air.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Ghost's weight settles over you, his body warm and solid against yours. Your legs fall open instinctively, making room for him, inviting him in. Your hands roam over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, mapping the landscape of his skin.

"Then let me be your compass," you whisper, tilting your hips up to meet his, seeking that delicious friction once more. "Let me guide you home, always."

You capture his lips in another kiss, this one slower, deeper, a promise of things to come. Your tongues dance, twining together in a sensual rhythm that mirrors the pulsing heat building between your thighs.

Ghost groans into the kiss, his hips rocking against yours, the hard length of his arousal sliding along your slick folds. His hands roam your body, caressing every curve, every hollow, committing the feel of you to memory. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are dark with desire, his pupils blown wide with need.

"Guide me, then," he rasps, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. "Lead me to paradise, my love."

With a fluid motion, Ghost shifts his hips, positioning himself at your entrance. He pauses there, poised on the brink of union, his gaze locked with yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. In answer, you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, offering yourself to him completely.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he sinks into you, filling you inch by delicious inch. A low moan tears from his throat at the feel of you, hot and tight and perfect around him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in, fighting for control as your inner walls flutter and clench around his throbbing length.

Your head falls back against the soft grass as Ghost fills you, a guttural moan escaping your lips at the exquisite stretch, the perfect fullness of him inside you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake, a physical manifestation of the passion burning through your veins.

"Yes," you hiss, the word drawn out into a low keen of pleasure. "Oh, yes, Ghost...just like that..."

You arch into him, meeting each slow, deep thrust with a roll of your hips, taking him even deeper, welcoming him into the very heart of you. Your bodies move together in a ancient rhythm, as old as time itself, as natural as the turning of the earth and the rising of the moons.

The world falls away, narrowing down to this single perfect moment, this joining of flesh and spirit.

Ghost sets a slow, deep pace, his hips rolling against yours in languid strokes that stoke the fires within you higher and higher. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, designed to bring you pleasure beyond measure. One hand slides under your knee, lifting your leg higher, opening you wider, allowing him to plunge even deeper.

He watches you as he moves within you, his golden eyes dark with passion, drinking in the sight of you lost in ecstasy, your face flushed, your lips parted in sweet sighs and moans. The sound of your pleasure is music to his ears, spurring him on, driving him to take you higher still.

"Eyes on me, my love," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I want to see you when you come undone."

Your eyes lock with Ghost's, twin pools of molten gold and liquid amber, reflecting the depth of your shared passion. In their depths, you see your own desire mirrored back at you, amplified tenfold, a reflection of the love and devotion that binds you.

"Always," you breathe, the word a whispered promise, a vow sealed in the heat of your joining. "My eyes, my heart, my soul...they're yours, now and forever."

Your hips rise to meet his, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. The tension builds, winding ever higher, until you're teetering on the brink, balanced on the razor's edge of release.

"Ghost," you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips, a plea and a benediction all in one.

Ghost feels the change in your body, the way your muscles tense and quiver beneath him, the quickening of your breath, the hitch in your moan. He knows you're close, teetering on the precipice of climax, and he wants nothing more than to send you hurtling over the edge into oblivion.

But not yet. Not just yet.

With a herculean effort, he stills his hips, holding himself deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scant space between your faces. His hands find your wrists, pinning them above your head, a gesture of dominance, of control.

"Not yet, my love," he whispers, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "Not until I say."

A whimper escapes your throat at the sudden denial, your body aching, yearning for the release that hovers just out of reach. You writhe beneath him, trying to find friction, to spur him on, but he holds you fast, his grip on your wrists unyielding.

"Please," you beg, the word torn from your throat, raw and needy. "Ghost, please..."

You don't even know what you're begging for anymore, too far gone in the haze of lust, desperate for him to set you free, to let you fall. Tears of frustration prick at the corners of your eyes, your entire being focused on the point where you're joined, where he fills you so perfectly, so completely.

Ghost drinks in the sight of you, pleading and desperate beneath him, your tears glistening in the moonlight like precious gems. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to give in to your pleas, to sheath himself to the hilt and let you ride out your climax on his cock.

But he wants more than that for you. More than a fleeting moment of pleasure.

Slowly, torturously, he begins to move again, his hips undulating in a sensual rhythm that builds the tension within you with excruciating slowness. Each roll of his hips grinds against your clit, sends sparks of sensation shooting up your spine, but it's not enough, not nearly enough to push you over the edge.

"That's it, my love," he croons, his voice a seductive purr.

Each deliberate roll of Ghost's hips sends waves of exquisite torture crashing over you, stoking the fires within you to new heights. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control, of coherency.

But it's a losing battle, and you can feel yourself slipping further and further under his spell with each passing second. Your world narrows down to the slide of his skin against yours, the stretch of your walls around his thick length, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly.

Ghost can feel your surrender, the way your body yields to his touch, to his command. It's a heady feeling, knowing that he wields such power over you, that he can bring you to the very brink of ecstasy and hold you there, suspended in a state of pure, agonizing bliss.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming you, consuming you. One hand releases your wrists to trail down your side, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your thigh. With a gentle pressure, he guides your leg up and over his shoulder, opening you wider, allowing him to sink even deeper into your welcoming heat.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing fire down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

A strangled cry tears from your throat as Ghost sinks impossibly deeper, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your core. Your hands scrabble for purchase on his sweat-slicked back, nails raking down his skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake.

The burn of his teeth on your neck only adds to the maelstrom of sensations, the slight pain blending seamlessly with the overwhelming pleasure until you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins. Your hips buck wildly, seeking more, craving more of this sweet, sweet torment. "Ghost!" you keen, his name a prayer, a plea, a benediction on your lips. "Oh, fuck, Ghost... Please..."

What you're begging for, you no longer know.

Your desperate cries, the way your body writhes beneath him, the sharp sting of your nails on his skin - it's all driving Ghost closer to the edge. He can feel his own release building, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of his spine, but he grits his teeth, determined to hold off until he's brought you to completion.

With a low growl, he redoubles his efforts, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency, each thrust striking that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit, circling the sensitive nub with the pad of his thumb, pushing you ever closer to the precipice.

"Let go, my love," he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. "I've got you."

Ghost's words, rough with passion, are the final catalyst you need. With a keening wail, your body bows off the floor, convulsing violently as your orgasm crashes over you in wave after wave of mind-numbing ecstasy. Your inner walls clamp down around Ghost's throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him dry.

Through the haze of your own pleasure, you can feel him pulsing inside you, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own peak. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on, wanting to feel him lose control, to watch as he shatters above you.

The sensation of your walls clamping down around him, squeezing him like a velvet vice, is too much for Ghost to withstand. With a hoarse shout of your name, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his hips jerking erratically as he finds his release.

His seed pulses hot and heavy, flooding your already drenched channel, marking you, claiming you as his. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he rides out the aftershocks of his climax.

For long moments, neither of you move, both lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Slowly, Ghost lifts his head, his golden eyes meeting yours, dark with satiation and something else, something deeper, more profound.

I've decided I'm going to rewrite His Ballerina Ghost x Fem!Reader because the plot, the storyline has been plaguing my mind but I just don't like how I wrote the first chapter

His name is Ghost.

Toxic!Ghost and ...not you

You're friend wants you to meet a special someone, and he happens to be closer to you than you think. Literally. Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah he's great, you should come meet him! Although I dunno, he said he wanted to keep 'us' a secret..."

You look up from your laptop at your best friend Michaela, who has blabbering about her new fling for an hour now. You hum in acknowledgment, but come on ... you're not really listening.

"And he has a sick motorcycle, but he's never let me on it..." She drones on.

"Uh huh."

"And he said I would look prettier with longer hair! Which I think means he finds me already a little pretty...?"

"Wow, I agree..."

"And- YO ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

You shut your laptop and focus wholly on her. "Mickey I love you, but this is the eighth guy you've loved this year. Whose to say this is gonna work out?"

Mickey sulks into your bed as you lecture her, finally being able to pour out your emotions.

"The last guy, who you planned a wedding for, you ended up dumping 'cos he reminded you of wet ketchup." You complain, moving your hands around over-dramatically. "And the dick before that, couldn't even pronounce your name correctly-"

"To be fair, Mickey is quite a hard name-" She butts in.

"It's a fucking Disney character, for Christs sake, who the fucks Missy? Listen, Mick, I'm happy for you, but you keep on dating douches, and then a month later, you come back crying to me about it. This isn't good for you or for me, you know how busy I am on this thesis."

Mickey's face contorts to a look of displeasure and betrayal, her eyes squinting as if she's trying to restraint the tears that look like they're about to burst in a moment.

She looks away before recollecting her thoughts, "I- I just thought you'd be happy for me-"

"I am Mickey! I really am! But it's like you search up 'world's most toxic asshat' and decide to bone the dude. They never treat you well Mick...come on, even a blind guy can see that..."

Your friend looks down, playing with the hem of her jumper, as if she's carefully considering your words, but you know her enough to know that she doesn't care for her advice. 4 weeks from now, and shes going to be sitting on your bed bawling her eyes out over another prick.

"You really are the worst, you know that?" She mumbles almost inaudibly, before getting up and heading towards the door of your dingy flat. You call out her name, telling her to come back, but give it a month, she'll come back trying over a different person.

It's a dark stormy Friday night, not even a week since your last contact with her, and there's already a brash pattern of knocks bombarding at your door. You look up from your laptop, almost a quarter into your thesis.

I swear if it's my fucking landlord again... You think as you grab a bat to protect yourself with, Mickey always complains about how dangerous your neighbourhood is.

You sigh out of relief when you peer through the peephole, it's Michaela...but she looks hysterical.

"Mickey...hey listen, I didn't mean what I said..." You start when you open the door to her furrowed eyebrows and hiccuped sobs.

"H- He- He keeps ghosting me-" She tries.

"Mickey, what's going on, who-"

She digs her face into the nook of your right shoulder, and your sharp nose detected the slight smell of booze, "Saw him at the grocery store, b-but he ignored me."

"Michaela honey, sit down. Okay what's going on." You bring her to your bed.

And so she tells you all about it. About the new guy that she's been seeing for 2 weeks now, how she met him at a new bar opening in your area, about how he sweet talked her into buying her a few drinks, and how he drove her home like a real gentleman. Your face scrunches when she accidentally spills about the part how rough he pounded her in her bedroom, with both her wrists tightly gripped and bound by one of his large callous hands, as he bent her over her desk.

The skillful way in which he dug his hips into her ass, 'thrusting into her like God told him to' as she put it. You mumble a little blasphemous when you hear that part.

A few more, 'Oh the dick was so good, I can't, I'm obsessed' and 'He fucked me like my future husband would', and she finally stops, her train of tears coming to a halt and she blankly stares at your ceiling, laying on your bed.

You nod dimly, not knowing whether to use the pep talk that you'd used for the last guy.

"What's this guy's name again?" You question her.

She shrugs, without energy, and the idea of injecting with a tranquiliser faintly disappears from your mind.

You look at her with amusement. "What do you mean-" you shrug, mocking her actions, "Does he have an ugly name like the other guy...what was...oh, Lester?"

Mickey snorts, looking up at you, "Lester didn't know how to eat me out, like he did."

"You don't need to bring up every sexual detail, Mick..."

"Sorry virgin..." She huffs.

You cringe at her, "Okay, so what's his name, it can't be as bad as Lester." She doesn't respond, her eyes tearing up again, "Um, okay, Imma say some names, tell me if I get it. James, John, Joseph, Jeremy, Jeremia-"

"Why are they all J names?" She mutters.

"Uh hello, you barged into my flat at 11 P.M. and you're drunk, considering how toxic this guy is, it's gotta be a J name. Jerome, Jude, Javon, Julius, Jason-"

"G." She stops you.

"G? Jason with a G...what the...Gason? Yeah, girl, if his name was that ugly, I'd be crying just as hard at you-"

"NO UH." She shouts so loudly, dragging her words, that even the gust of wind stops in fright. "His name starts with G...I think it does at least. He wouldn't tell me his real name...just a nickname."

You nod, as if in agreement, but you stop yourself because you've never been in a similar situation. As much as you love Michaela, you despise almost everything she does.

Like how in 2nd year of university, she missed an exam just so she could go on a date with a guy she was seeing. And she wonders why she had to retake that module over the summer.

There was also the time at your 20th birthday dinner, where she uninvitingly decided to bring her fling for the month, and no, you couldn't the food given the amount of time they decided to share saliva right in front of you.

"Wow Mick, your standards be dropping like this economy." You kid, although some part of you really questions how much truth lied behind that, "So, hit me. Who's this guy you've been seeing. Tell me about him."

"You for real?" She smiles sweetly at you, and for a second, every bone of hate towards her actions wash away. At the end of the day, she still is your best friend, and you should support her decision no matter what. That's what friends do, no?

"Yeah. I'm sorry. What's his name...or nickname? What do you call him?" You hold her hands, rubbing above her thumbs.

She sniffs a bit, but her smile doesn't falter, and her cheek blushes at the mere thought of him.

"His name is Ghost."

It's official. This was the worst guy Mickey has dated.

You've made a list of all people she's been with, ranking them with how well they'd treated her.

Okay so, Derek was a pass, he cheated on her with the Philosophy professor...literally worst degree ever. What kinda dumb career can you even go into with that.

Then there's Jonah, reaaaal bad boy, but he screamed like a girl and was way too deep into feminism. Pass, how do you manage to mansplain feminism??

Marc, aspiring footballer. You know what, smash, he was fine, I'll give her that. But then he left to play for Spain and never texted back... But he had dimples, so I'd forgive him.

Oh how did I forget Oliver. Auditioned to be a k-pop idol but lied about being Korean the entire time...pass for sure.

GAAH! There all so trash!

And yet there's another member on this list. Nameless, faceless 'Ghost'.

"What does he look like?" You begin your interrogation.

"Dunno." Mickey shrugs.

"How old is he?"

"Dunno."

"...Career?"

"Dunno."

"Dunno as in you don't know, or dunno as in this freak's unemployed?" You rub your temples in frustration.

Mickey sighs seeing how annoyed you are, she begged and dragged you out of your flat into the bright lights and atmosphere of a cafe.

"I think he's loaded, he-"

You sigh, "You said that about the last guy, and that was just because you couldn't see the minus sign on his online banking app."

"Can you not get annoyed at me for a second? This is my potential husband for all I know." She says exasperatingly.

"Ah yes! Your husband is a nameless, faceless, jobless knobhead who you've had sex with once, talked to...ONCE. Remind me why you're so hooked on this guy? Here's a challenge, don't mention his dick."

An elderly lady sitting on the table besides you two, grumbles and leaves after hearing that.

"...Can I have a sip of your frappe?"

"Oh would you look at that! Princess Mickey DOES know how to ask a question! You couldn't just, I don't know....ASK for his name? Don't act like this was the hardest thing you've done, remember when you considered proposing TO A MAN-"

"The only hard thing about Ghost...was his penis."

The cafe goes silent when she blurts that out.

You sigh for what felt like the 100th time that hour, and you lean in to whisper to Mickey, "Mick, it's been just over a week since you've last seen him- whose to say you'll see him again?"

She rests her head in her hands, clenching her eyes shut at the thought. "I thought I'd run into him again, I don't know...Am I stupid for wanting him so bad?"

Yes, yes you are. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

"nOoOoO, oF cOuRsE nOt, gah, why'd you say tha- yes. Yes, you are." So much for trying, "You don't even remember what he looks like, are you sure we're not stuck looking for a character out of one of your sex dreams?"

Mickey leans in so close to you, that you can smell the coffee breath.

"I know I was drunk, but I swear, I woke up and there was hickeys all over my neck-"

"But you said he was wearing a mask-" You're interrupting her and you can tell it irritates her, with her eyebrow twitching.

"Yes, but I don't remember-"

"What colour was the mask?"

"Uh, black."

"Was it a surgical mask or a balaclava?"

"Um, a baklava."

"Bitch, that's a pastry dish."

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" Mickey screams, standing up so abruptly, everyone in the cafe stops and turns.

You gasp, purposely loud so everyone can hear, "Are you breaking up with me...because I'm homeless?" All of the cafe goers murmur to each other at the scene in front of them.

"We were at your flat an hour ago, you fool- come on we're going." Mickey hisses, dragging you out the cafe, uncomfortably smiling at all the people that looked at you with sympathy, "No, don't feel bad, apparently a thesis is more to important than my future husband."

The walk home was pleasant, with Mickey hooking her arms around of yours, onlookers may have assumed that you two were a couple. But overall, it was nice being in her presence without the mention of any men.

"Hey look, the room next to yours is vacant. Maybe I should move in!" Mickey points out, when both of you have made it down the stairs of your building.

"I don't want you that often, jeez." You joke.

And for a while, your days do seem to be getting better.

It's been a month since your little cafe date, and you're still stuck at home grovelling through your tedious thesis.

The good news is, you're about 3 quarters in, the bad news is, your new neighbour has no apparent spatial awareness, having blasted his rock music through the floor. Unlucky for you, there's only 3 apartments on the floor of your building: you, Mr Feldman (who you're sure is deaf considering he hasn't made any complaint from the noise) and you're new neighbour, whom you've never met but already hate.

"TURN DOWN YOUR MUSIC DUMBASS." You bang on the door of your neighbour.

Yet no one opens the door and apologises.

In the evening, the noises get worse. Instead of rock, it's a combination of Weeknd songs and the loud female moans and bed shaking next door. Once you'd heard voices that had belonged to 2 women, so you deduced that you lived next to a sex-crazed lesbian.

"Mr Feldman, how are you okay with it?!" You complain. You've had enough of the noise, especially the headboard banging since it seems your neighbours bedroom is just a wall away from yours.

"Okay with what, sweetheart?" The elderly gentleman croaks out, standing at his doorstep.

"The noise! You don't hear the loud ass music?" You groan, having being repeating yourself for a 2nd time.

"Yes, the music is ass, but it isn't loud." Mr Feldman says, his finger tapping at his chin, comically pondering with his jurassic-age brain.

You roll your eyes, walking away and towards your own room, "How- I feel forgetting how old you truly are...."

"I heard that."

"I really doubt you did." You shut the door on him.

This is a real issue, not like the ones Mickey has with men, you can't focus on your thesis, this could seriously jeopardise your education.

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: have u talked to ur landlord

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: duh i unleashed my inner karen, but he isnt doing anything cos this dick offered to pay almost double the rent for his flat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: damn he loaded

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: yet he cant afford earphones apparently

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: why dont u get him some

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: wat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: as a joke

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: hm thats funny mickey

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: thanks who am i talking to again

So you did just that, you placed a pair of pink wired earphones in his mailbox... which happened to be right next to yours. And you waited.

And waited.

And a week later, and no response.

Your neighbour definitely doesn't know that he has a mailbox does he? A week since you're little prank, and yet you can still hear the music through the walls so loud, you think you've developed tinnitus. The throbbing in your ears is so painful, sometimes you feel phantom drips of blood running down your ear.

"Asshole doesn't even turn down the music. Come on, play some Beyonce at least."

Mickey snickers, she's on your bed texting other people.

"You're not even listening, are you?" You throw a pillow at her playfully to get her attention.

"Babe, it's 1 in the afternoon and I can't hear any music now, let's not start the day like this. Say, there's a lil get together in that bar down the road, you there?" She says, but you're not even sure she's talking to you as she hadn't looked up to you since saying that.

You crack your neck from exhaustion, "Nah I'll pass, need to finish a draft of my thesis and sen-"

"Blah blah blah, all I hear are excuses, thesis this thesis that." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well you would have failed high school and university if not for me. So you paying with cash or card?" You boast.

Mickey gets up, dusting herself, "Listen I gotta dash, but I better see you there- it starts at 11."

"Woah, wait, which bar, who's going, what's the dress code- Okay you're gone."

And for a first time in a while, you're stuck in your room alone, without the loud obnoxious music and without anyone constantly whining at you. Peace and silence-

Hold on, what's that?

You press your ear against your bedroom wall, which is funny considering you usually complain about the noise. It's not music, it's more sultry and sexual. Deep and gruff moans escaping someone, and this time it's actually enjoyable to listen to. Nothing like those pornstar like squeals you were used to, no. This was more raw.

The way his voice broke at certain points combined with the lazy irregular slick noises, which you imagined to be his dick slipping through his tight, cocooned fist.

"Fuck, mhm."

That voice.

If this was the voice of your neighbour, you would have never complained about the commotion. Was this why Mr Feldman has no issue with the noise? Was he blessed with the intimidating whimpers next door?

You press further, ignoring the growing wetness pooling at your underwear. You could tell he started thrusting faster, his voice increasing in volume just a little bit.

You could tell he's close.

But some part of you wanted to deny him of this pleasure.

So instead of touching yourself with your neighbour, you're standing right in front of his door, banging against the door frame with all the might you can muster, you fear you might break it down.

The door opens.

And you're face to face with your neighbour.

And a minute the warmth between your legs actually makes sense. Because you're neighbour isn't a sex crazed lesbian...you're neighbour is a-

"Sex God,"

"Excuse me?" His voice is deeper when he's talking.

"... I said, oh God. Can you keep the music down?" You reroute your words, drinking in the appearance of this beast in front of you.

He's tall, maybe a few inches taller than 6 foot, with short dusty blonde hair, and a prominent scar running through his thin but well moisturised lips. And his jawline, wow, the Gods above must have spent eons perfecting his jaw structure-

"'m sorry. But uh, hey thanks for the earphones." He pulls out one of the hot pink earbud from his ear.

You blush, he had seen his gift, "Uh huh, how'd you know it's from me?"

"Y' think old man Feldman's gonna buy a bloke hello kitty earphones?" He kids.

"Maybe, it's 2024. Live and let live. Don't be shocked if you see Feldman walking around in a skirt." And you're surprised he laughs your joke, admiring the crease lines by his mouth when he smiles, almost forgetting that you had an imagine in your head that he was the worst possible neighbour alive...

"Cute." He comments, looking down at you.

"Me...? Or are you visualising Feldman....." You drag your words, until he laughs again, leaning onto his door frame and just then you understand why Mickey would chase guys the way she does.

"No, please, he's not my type. I lean towards um...cute, short neighbours."

"You're literally just describing Feldman, dude,"

"That's on me," he smiles widely at you, "If I had known it was you banging on my door, I'd 'ave opened it a while back." He flirts.

You blink at him, no ones ever flirted with you. What would Mickey do? No, she'd just snog him this very moment. I mean, what's stopping you?

"If I'd known you were my neighbour, I'd be banging you a while back. Wait."

There's a pause in the conversation and you're too scared to correct yourself. "I-"

But he cuts you off, letting out the loudest laughs at that you'd ever heard, almost as if he was cursed not to laugh and it had finally been broken. The type where he hand gently grabs your shoulder and you could almost feel the vibrations from his broad chest.

What a sight.

"You know what I meant." You giggle, wait, when did you start giggling?

His laugh ends in a fit of small coughs, "Didn't catch your name, dove."

You introduce yourself, opting not to sticking your hand out like you're in a job interview.

But he does it for you, placing one large callous hand in front of you, for you to shake.

"Simon." He says as he kisses the back of your hand.

You thought when you met Simon, that you two had bonded, like he was about to ask you out bonded, but alas you were wrong.

You laid in bed the rest of the day, intending to complete a draft for your thesis, yet instead you found yourself on Sims creating a family for you and your beloved Simon. And a short nap later, you wait up to over 20 notifications from your friend.

4 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: yoooo wru??? its 11:30

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: HOEEEE WAKE UP

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: fuck ur thesis come hereee im drunk

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: BABE THE GHOST GUY IS HERE NO JOKE

5 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: you better be dead

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: oml he saw me

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: black baklava btw

2 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: hehehehe im going back to his place

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: if i die yk where im at yh

Oh shit. It's past midnight, you try calling Mickey but her phone goes straight to voicemail, curse her and her DND.

You start looking for your keys, there's no way you're attending the party, you're just going to pick her up from whomever's place she's at and take her home.

"Mhm, doll, jus' like that."

You pause in your step. Mickey's safe right? A quick listen wont hurt anyone.

"'lil deeper pretty girl, yeah, like that."

Some part of you wishes it was porn Simon was watching, and that God was playing a cruel joke on you, introducing you to the prettiest guy you've seen, and now suddenly you're stuck hearing him fuck someone else? Yeah, you've heard it before but...this time it made you feel uneasy.

This time you knew who was behind the voice, you knew who was moaning. And forgive me, but you thought you had a connection, no? That talk earlier today...did it mean nothing?

And when did he suddenly become so vocal? What was so special about this girl than the others?

You stand still, with your ear pressed so tightly against the wall, you've probably left a mark against it. And his moans never stop.

And hers start. For a second you feel like you recognise the female voice, but through the slurs and hand-covered whimpers (you presume), you can't figure out if it was familiar to you or not.

You flinch when the head boards banging, and you feel yourself throwing every romantic thought you've had of this man when you hear his degrading tone towards her.

"C’mon, make yourself cum on my cock, dove."

You gulp hearing him use the nickname he gave you on someone else.

30 minutes of torture.

You stood against that wall, with your ear so firmly pressed, someone might have thought it was glued on. The only sounds you were focused on was his whimpers and you caught the way his voice broke when he spoke, and your infrequent breathes.

When the noises stopped, you stepped back in embarrassment. You felt so shameful practically peering into a man's sex life. How disgusting are you truly?

You reach into your pockets, feeling for your keys and your phone, suddenly remembering Mickey's whereabouts.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: just woke up

You lied. You couldn't ever tell someone of today.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: omw wru

You open your door, feeling the abrupt urge to surround yourself within nature after doing something so distasteful. And if it couldn't get any worse...

Simon's door opens.

One part of you wants to turn and see which lucky girl had the opportunity to getting plowed by him, and yet the other part knew you'd immediately crumble at the thought of it not being you.

"Oh my god! That's why this place looks so familiar....!"

You widen your eyes, your breathe getting caught once again.

"Mickey...?" You whisper, not even turning your head to look at the horror next door.

"Yes, it's me silly. Come here, want you to meet someon- oh can't walk, fuck." She giggles, barely conscious.

You turn your head towards her slowly, like a movie character.

It's Mickey in the flesh, wearing jeans and a black tube top that had been worn so sloppily, you were almost scared you were going to get flashed. She smiles innocently at you were half lidded eyes.

"Oh...I-"

A figure walks out, dressed in a blue-gray 3/4 sweater and a hood, and you swear you feel yourself sinking into the ground. Could this get any worse.

And your wishes were answered. Mickey turns back to press a vulgar, almost cringe-worthy kiss against his clothed jaw, and you shift your eyes down... to see his dark jeans... and the zip undone. You turn your head around, almost debating to ignore the couple and lock yourself into your bedroom until death overcomes you. Your darting eyes rest on his face, begging for him to say something to remove the awkwardness.

Yet, something about Simon was different...

His eyes bore deeply into your soul as if trying to read you, his once kind face contorted into a look of pure disgust, like he were looking into the eyes of a killer. This didn't look like the man you talked to this morning...

His eyes drag down over your crooked frame, a raised eyebrow twitching almost in mock sympathy. To make it worse, he had his arms crossed so tightly around him, he looked like the human epitome of a 'side eye'.

You pray to God it's the effects of alcohol. Or maybe you're the drunk one! Maybe you're sleeping and this is all just a dream, or nightmare...

You put your hands on the doorknob, wanting to resign yourself from this situation when your eyes drift back to Mickey, who seems to have taken the liberty of speaking.

"I want you meet the guy I was talking to you about. His name is Ghost."

First of all, thank you all for 6200 likes and 300 followers?!!!! THE BEST <3 Also, my writing schedule is so poor, I'll try to update as much as possible!! tags -> @lilliumrorum , @kxtz3 , @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12 , @restrictionsapply-blog , @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @chessecakelover , @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk , @spankmydepression , @yourfavbabigirl

𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣'𝙨 (ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᵖⁱⁿᵏ) 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Find all my fics below!

𝙎𝙄𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝙍𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙔

Ghost Of A Connection

-> [ANGST] In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head?

If I meant something to you.

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

-> [ANGST] You want him, but does he want you?

Just a memory

[Part 2]

-> You viewed Simon as your friend, but clearly he didn't feel the same

His name is Ghost

->

𝙆Ö𝙉𝙄𝙂

Impressive yet unimpressed

[Part 2] Unimpressive yet Impressed

-> [ANGST] In which König overhears gossip about him, and the change in his actions affect you, physically and mentally. Part 2 -> He attempts to reconcile with you after his attack.

König und Prinz: Meine Entführer

-> Your attempts to run away with your son fails, and your husband confronts you. Seems like he's really influencing your little one.

König und Prinz: My Escape

-> You've successfully escaped! Or have you...

𝙅𝙊𝙃𝙉 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙀

Silent Smoker

-> [FLUFF] Price can't seem to find his missing cigars...and you're the only culprit.

Tulips or Roses?

-> blurb - rose meets tulips

-> [ANGST to FLUFF] In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you.

𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙏 𝘽𝙇𝙐𝙍𝘽𝙎

-> Gaming with König

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Reader Additional Tags: Task Force 141, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty), John Price Acting as Task Force 141's Parental Figure (Call of Duty), Task Force 141 as Family (Call of Duty), Eventual Romance

You're a lil cow at a hybrid farm, your farmer is the person you love the most, his name is John Price and he loves you too! but you're just a little stubborn cow who refuses to get breed and produce milk to his farm even though you were VERY expensive and that is getting on his nerves, your body was made to make more babies and produce warm milk but you doesn't want to get breed... Until he basically forces you by saying 'if you don't contribute to the farm, you won't be part of it' and of course, you can't quite survive in the wild so you follow your farmer to the stall and... and the bull is scary! he's big, dirty blonde hair, penetrating dark brown eyes that seem to look into your soul and his fur makes it looks like he has a skull on his face, he's twice your size and so intimidating! You're just a cute lil cow, why does you mate have to be so scary? Didn't Price had other bulls that weren't so terrifying?! Like the one with the funny accent or the one that was always wearing a sunglass, they look are definitely are less intimidating than... This thing!

...

Well, at least the babies you and him made are cute and strong, and your milk is as delicious as Price imagined.

Red Blooded Patriot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: it’s 1778, the American Revolution is in full effect. Y/N is the daughter of a wealthy land owner & loyalist in New Jersey just right outside New York City. While her father is a loyalist she’s a closeted patriot. During one her home gets caught in the cross fire & she’s rescued by a masked red coat carrying an axe

Warnings: this is just pure filth so idk what warnings to put tbh

Weehawken, New Jersey 1778

There Y/N sat rocking away in her rocking chair overlooking the New York harbor. Fanning herself to keep cool in the heat. She adjusted herself as her corset was starting to create a smaller layer of sweat. It was June, & the humidity was atrocious. A small sigh escaped her lips as she turned to look at her father. The Baron smiled back at his daughter, she was one of the most beautiful women in the colonies. The men in the village would often stop their tasks to watch her walk by. Her innocence was radiating off of her, as she was a newly turned woman. The one thing the Baron was struggling to find was a eligible bachelor for his daughter. Most of men that he found somewhat suitable were dowry chasers. It was causing quite an issue for him as he was getting older & nearly lost his life to the flu last winter.

There moment was interrupted by the sound of canon fire in the harbor. Soon musket fire was heard in the distance. The Baron called out to his workers in the field to drop their tasks & find shelter in the house. He didn’t want any of them losing their lives, some of their servitudes would be paid off shortly & he wanted them to live. Y/N quickly gathered some of the smaller children of the workers & they started to all gather inside the home. Now with a musket in his hand her father made everyone get into the cellar.

“Y/N, my dear,” He said grabbing her head in his hands. “Whatever you do, do not open the door. I’m going to quickly get where I keep the extra gun powder & musket balls.” She nodded & hugged him tightly. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks as she watched him leave. The musket fire grew louder & closer. She ran to a window to see what was happening. Crimson red coats started to appear on the wood line. She gasped & watched as some patriots started to run towards the house.

“Dear God.” She whispered as the patriots started break in the door. Absolutely petrified, she took off running towards the kitchen & out the back door. The sound of war was raging behind her & it was deafening. With her skirts in hand she tried to run as fast as she possibly could. She accidentally tripped on the hem of one of her petticoats & fell twisting her ankle. Sobbing out & screaming for help her cries fell on deaf ears. A ragged man in a blue tattered coat appeared out from behind a tree & Y/N spotted him. “Oh sir please help!” She sobbed out. “My ankle I can’t move it.” He had a wicked grin on his face.

“You’re the Baron’s daughter right?” He asked with a wicked tone. A chill ran down her spine, his man was not here to help her.

“Yes.” She replied. “But my ankle sir, please help.” She begged.

“Oh I’ll help with your ankle as long as you help me.” He replied. Her eyes widened knowing what he was insinuating as grabbed his crotch. She let out a ear piercing scream for help as he threw himself on top of her.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley had been across the field on horseback when he heard the scream. He had gained quite the reputation over the past year. His nickname, “Ghost” was given to him by the patriots his stealth & aim made him a feared man on the battlefield. He even started to don a mask to help conceal his identity.

“Cmon Riley,” He commanded & his horse took off towards where he had heard the scream. He noticed a couple of yards away a young woman was lying down on the ground. Clearly fearful & trying to fend off the advances of the patriot soldier on top of her. He grabbed the axe he had become infamous for using from his belt. The neigh of his horse drew the attention of both the woman & the patriot soldier. Before the soldier could even react Simon rode up on him & swoop down with the axe hitting him directly in the chest. The woman let out another ear piercing scream as the man’s blood splattered all over her floral dress. The patriot got up stumbling & groaned then lolled over in the grass, axe still in his chest. “Woah, boy.” Simon commanded as he tugged on Riley’s reigns.

Y/N now covered in blood was sobbing even louder. Her ankle was in excruciating pain & she was still trying to process what had happened. She heard the neigh of a horse & looked up. The man who had murdered the patriot was getting off of his horse. Her sobbing grew quieter as she watched him remove the axe from the man’s sternum with a crunch. Then he started to make his way over to her, panic started to course her veins. She tried to get up but groaned out after trying to put pressure on her ankle. With eyes closed she shuttered at that thought she too was to have the bloodied axe lodged in her chest. She felt his presence as he squatted down to look at her. Still shaking from fear, she opened her eyes. The masked red coat was staring right into her eyes.

“Are you alright miss?” He asked out of genuine concern. She shook her head no afraid to speak. “I bear no ill will, I just heard your cry for help & rode over.” He explained.

“Oh thank the lord,” she replied clutching the cross that rested upon her cleavage. “My ankle is broken I believe, I can’t get up.” She stated. The battle seemed to have started to die off as the sounds of musket fire started to dwindled.

“Let me take a look,” he said & grabbed her ankle. She hissed out in pain as he started to twist her ankle to examine it. “It’s not broken thankfully, but it’s definitely sprained.” He explained. “Let me take you the house where we’re being quartered for proper medical aid.” Simon placed the axe in a hostler on his belt & scooped the woman up in his arms. He walked over to were Riley was, Y/N holding her arms around his neck for dear life. He placed her on his saddle sideways then mounted his horse. With one hand on Y/N’s waist & one hand on the reigns they started towards the estate. She blushed how close she was to him, & how his hand held onto her waist so tightly. Y/N was familiar with the estate as it was a friend of her father’s.

Once there Simon hopped off of Riley, & carried Y/N into the house. They were greeted by the gentleman that owned the property & she was immediately brought upstairs to one of the bed chambers. Simon placed her down on the bed & one of the maids started to tend to her.

“I’ll come back up later to see how you’re doing,” He said, & turned away to go back downstairs to brief General Cornwallis.

“Wait,” Y/N choked out. “I never got your name.” He stopped in his tracks & turned around.

“Lieutenant Riley miss,” He replied with a bow. “And you?”

“My name is Y/N L\N.” She replied.

“I’ll be back up just after we’ve finished dinner.” After the maids had gotten her out of the blood stained dress & tended to her ankle they started to draw her a bath. Lord knows she needed one desperately. She needed to wash away whatever she had experienced today, except Simon. The masked lieutenant intrigued her. Being a gentle woman of society she never really had any experience with men other than suitors her father picked out for her. To see a man so rugged but yet so powerful save her swirled around her head.

She rested further up against the cloth draped tub. The view from the bed chamber she was in was immaculate. It overlooked the Hudson River & into Manhattan. Mixed with the candles surrounding her created the perfect ambiance for relaxation. One of the maids came in to pour more hot water into her bath, & even sprinkled in some citrus scent. Y/N was so enamored with the view she didn’t even notice the sound of a knock at the door, & the handle turning.

Simon had just finished his dinner, & had full intentions of going upstairs to check on the woman he had rescued. His fellow officers teased him a bit about his worry, & made crude comments about him deflowering her. He stood at her bed chamber door & knocked. No response. He tried again but again silence. He knew better then to walk in on a lady, but his anxiety was eating him alive to know how she was doing. As soon as he opened the door he regretted it. There was she was admiring the view from her window, naked in a bath tub.

Y/N felt a presence behind her, & thinking it was a maid turned around. To her shock there stood Lieutenant Riley.

“Oh my-“ She gasped & cupped her bare breasts trying to conceal her bosom. She was thankful her bottom half was conceal by the water & tub.

“Oh miss I do apologize.” He stammered out. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. I best be leaving.”

“No wait!” Y/N said & sunk lower into the tub. “Stay, just close the door behind you.” He closed the door & locked the knob then took a seat on the sofa that sat in the middle of the room facing the lit fireplace. He could feel his trousers getting tighter as he took in the sight of the young woman. She looked ethereal like, those Grecian painting of Aphrodite or nymph. “You were right about my ankle. It’s a sprain.” Y/N said. He was still absolutely speechless at the sight in front of him. She rest her arms on the edge of the tub & laid her head down. “Why do you wear that mask?” She asked.

“To conceal my identity,” Simon replied. “I want to leave a peaceful life off the battlefield. I’ve taken many men’s lives in combat & I don’t want to die being avenged for some patriot.”

“I understand,” Y/N replied. “I just wish I could see your face, you saved me I have no one to avenge.” She bit her lip & that nearly set him over the edge.

“That’s true,” Simon replied gulping. “I mean it is kind of hot in here.” He said. “To hell with it.” He said & started to remove the mask some of the strings got tangled & he was clearly struggling to undo the knots.

“Come her silly,” She said & motioned for him to come over. Simon walked over to the tub trying to not look over the edge & kneeled down with his back turned to her. She very easily undid each knot & finally the mask was removed. He turned around & she let out a quiet gasp.

“What?” He replied confused as to what she was gasping at. His dirty blonde hair was all messed up & his cerulean eyes started back at her. She ran a wet hand over his cheek.

“You’re very handsome.” She replied blushing, taking in her very vulnerable state. Simon still fully dressed in his officers uniform & her nude as the day she was born. “Why don’t you join me?” She asked motioning to the tub. Her boldness surprised the both of them. It was almost as if Aphrodite herself took over.

“Oh I can’t-“ Simon started. He was cut by her standing up displaying her full wet figure to him. Her breasts were so plump & round they sat beautifully on her chest. His eyes trailed down to her well kept pubic area & took in the sight of her pussy. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her left breast.

“I want you to join me.” She said & squeezed his hand on her breast. He pulled his hand away & started to take off his boots then the rest of his officers uniform. He climbed into the bath & took in the hot water. Hell he couldn’t remember the last time he took a hot bath, even the officers for the British army weren’t granted the luxury of hot bath water. Y/N scooted over towards him & he placed his hands on her waist pulling her in against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck & pulled him in for a deep kiss. His manhood was resting up against her inner thigh & was teasing her with every little movement. When they both came up for air she decided to drop the bombshell.

“Lieutenant, there’s something you should know,” she started. “I’m a virgin.” He was surprised she was a wealthy young woman who was waiting for a man to be suitable for her father. The most she had probably done was kiss a man.

“That’s alright,” he replied. “But do you want this?”

“Yes,” She replied softly kissing him again. He brought one hand down to start playing with her pussy. A soft moan escaped her lips at the new sensation. “What are you doing?” She gasped out.

“I’m getting you ready for me,” he replied. “It’ll hurt more if I don’t darling.” He pushed one finger into her virgin cunt & started to pump. She whimpered into his shoulder & gripped into his biceps.

“Lieutenant, Christ.” She moaned. He kept pumping his finger in & out then added a second one. She let out an even louder whimper & he clamped a hand over her mouth.

“We can’t have that love now can we?” He asked. “Lord knows what they’d all do if they knew I was about to deflower you.” He pulled his fingers out & then helped her adjust her hips so it was right over his cock. “Now you still want to do this?” He asked for reassurance.

“Yes, I want this,” she whispered.

“It may hurt a bit love,” He explained. “We’ll take it little by little, okay?” She nodded in reply. He held his cock straight & helped her push down slowly. The pressure & the wonderful ache between her legs was euphoric. A small whimper escaped her lips as little by little she sank lower. Then they reached her hymen. “This may hurt the most love.” He said as he felt he barrier. “Remember little by little.” Slowly she felt him pop her cherry. She felt her barrier rip causing a painful sensation to shoot through her body. Her head was practically hidden in Simon’s neck as he finally pushed all the way in.

“You’re so big, Jesus.” She mumbled into his neck. He chucked a bit at her comment causing a vibrating sensation to make his cock twitch in her.

“I’m going to start moving you up & down love,” He said & slowly started to pull her up & down on his cock. The tight sensation of her virgin pussy made him grit his teeth. “Sweet mother of Mary.” He hissed as she slowly bounced up & down. The water around them sloshed the more she moved. His eyes darted down to her chest were her breasts were bouncing up & down. He brought his hands up to them & started to play with them. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the new sensation.

“You close love?” He asked as he took in the view of her. Her body radiated under the candle light.

“Oh God yes,” She sighed. “I’m about to-“ She cut herself off as she released all over him. He kept bouncing her up & down helping her through her orgasm.

“Darling I’m close to,” He grunted. It had been months since he had been with a woman, let alone a virgin. She was squeezing him so tightly. “Lord I’m about to release as well.” He groaned. He felt his cock start to twitch inside of her as he painted her cervix white. She fell into his chest & he wrapped his armed around her. They both smiled at each other & share little intimate kisses.

“Miss I have some warm water oh my-,” One of the maids started as she walked in on you two. “Oh I’ll be back later.” She said clearly embarrassed by intruding & closed the door. The two of you started to laugh a little at the situation.

“The whole house will know what we’ve done by the morning.” Simon stated.

“Oh why’s that?” Y/N asked.

“She’s a terrible gossip.” He replied kissing her shoulder.

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

you know what.

I am so fucking tired of rape fics. I am a sexual assault survivor and you sexulise rape. why. why do I work so hard to get better and it all get ruined by some horny asshole just like last time. THESE CHARATERS DONT WANT TO RAPE YOU. rape is horrible, its NOT sexy. its traumatizing. why do you keep talking about it and writing about it. STOP MINIMIZING MY PAIN WITH YOUR DERANGED FANTASIES.

Simon Riley isnt a rapist

Leon Kennedy isnt a rapist

and belive it or not Jonathan Crane ISNT A FUCKING RAPIST

dont tell me not to kink shame

do not tell me to skip it

you cannot tell me that my trauma doesn't matter

STOP WRITING RAPE FICS

CAN ANYONE ELSE IMAGINE TF-141 AS DANCERS FOR MAGIC MIKE SHOWS???

OKAY- like, imagine Wet Dreams for Simon!! You’re one of the dancers, scheduled to do the designated dance with Simon (he asked specifically for you) and you’re out there in front of a crowd, nervous out of your mind and as the song starts he just whispers a sweet “Trust me, love.” AND ALMOST MAKES YOU CUM IN FRONT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLE - he definitely rewards you after the show for doing such a great job on stage ;)

Soap would probably do Air Seduction because he’s such a fucking TEASE! The whole time, he’s dancing around you, leaving ghost touches, stripping and sometimes even thrusting into your clothed core, BUT NEVER DOES ANYTHING TO RELIEVE YOU!!! However, near the end when you’re finally touching, TRUST that he’s gonna be feeling you up every damn chance he gets!

CANDY SHOP FOR GAZ???? Let’s get this straight, he likes all types of women (they all do!) - so when he saw you sitting in the first row, eyeing him up like a piece of candy?! (No pun intended) You bet he gets you up on the stage! When he starts dancing around you and eating that damned whipped cream, you wonder what he’d look like with your cream in his mouth- Licking the whipped cream off your body?? And kissing all over you? Thrusting in your face???? When the shows over, he leans forward to whisper in your ear “Meet me in the back. I want to taste the real treat.” GOD DAYUMMMM

JOHN PRICE IS A MAN OF CONSENT….SO YOU BET HES ASKING FOR PERMISSION!!!! He would be so respectful towards you…but of course also have his way with you! He’s gotta show you what you need- how much better he can fuck you compared to anyone else! You bet that after that show, he’s not letting anyone touch his darling again.

Simon dropped his keys into the small dish at your front door, kicking off his boots and setting them aside nicely. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up, leaving his baseball cap on the small table he put his keys on.

he walked further into the house, looking around, but seeing no sign of you. His brows furrowed a little, calling out to you. “Love? Y’here?”

he walked further into the house, peaking into the bathroom and living room before hearing a door open. He turned to see you walking out of your room in tears, wearing one of his shirts. The worst thoughts went to his head - did you hurt yourself? Did someone else get hurt? Were you upset with him? He walked over to you cautiously, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“What’s wrong, love? Did somethin’ happen when I was gone?” His fingers carded through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away a little to look up at him and smile, wiping away your tears the best you could as you sniffled and held him close. “I- I did it…” you smiled, small laugh coming from your lips.

A small look of confusion crossed his face as he ran his hands up and down your sides, squeezing you a little. “Did what, love?” he asked.

You smiled through your tears, burying your face into his chest. “I made myself cum…no help, no vibrator…just me…”

Simon had felt proud of you a lot through the years, but being able to see you so proud of yourself made him so much prouder. He picked you up and held your ass to keep you steady. “That’s my girl…oh god, that’s my girl. M’so proud of you, lovie.”

Many women think that they’re “broken” because they still haven’t made themselves feel pleasure without a helping hand. You need to know that you aren’t broken - not even close. Your body is beautiful and unique in its own way, and you need to take the time to love how intricate and powerful you all are. This is for men and women, since they both struggle with this issue. You can do it, you just need to breathe and appreciate that you are made differently from everyone else. You deserve your pleasure. No matter how long it takes you to figure it out.

i just saw your post about reader who can’t make themselves cum and ugh i love it, especially because i feel like no one ever talks about or includes it. anyways i would love to hear your thoughts on reader who has a hard time cumming, especially during sex no matter how good it feels

I fell that it’s honestly really important to talk about it to let people know that they aren’t alone. And I’m so glad you liked it :)

It is scientifically proven that men can cum easier during sex than women. It’s mostly because women have complex bodies, what works for one person might not work for the other. So when figuring out your own body, it’s important to keep in mind that your body is unique compared to others.

this wasn’t the first time that you’d been sprawled out in bed with Simon pleasing you. He kissed up and down your body, caressed every inch of you, even stopped for a little to rest his head on your chest and make sure you were nice and relaxed. You two had been on this journey together for a little while now, trying to figure out what you like and how he can make his pretty cum. He had tried many things, using his tongue, light pressure on your clit, firmer pressure, no pressure and just stimulating your g-spot, stimulating your g-spot and your clit, adding nipple play to see if that made you more sensitive; but even if it felt good, your body wouldn’t let yourself go.

at first, Simon thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. That he just lost his touch and that he wasn’t doing enough for you. But when you comforted him and explained how you’d been like this since you could remember, it made him feel better and worse. Alright, he wasn’t a complete failure and could still make you cum…but why hasn’t he? Every time you two had sex or just did foreplay, he would make sure to take all the time in the world to get you really nice and wet for him. He would use his fingers to curl inside you and touch that spot to make you mewl and arch your back off the mattress. But you still couldn’t cum. You were in the middle of him thrusting into you, feeling how his cock would twitch gently inside you, his fingers working your clit. Left side, right side, hood of it, right on it, pinching it gently, but all it would do is make you feel more pleasure that lead to nothing but a dead end.

you buried your head into his neck and let out small whimpers as he kept his movements steady. After another 15 minutes, that’s when the whimpers turned into silent sobs. Your body jerked a little as you cried, tears gliding down your cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. His head leaned down against yours and held you tightly, gently sliding your of you to hold you in his lap. You cried softly, neither of you talking, but both knowing what was wrong. “I don’t like being broken…” you said through little cries, voice soft and hoarse. But you were cut off by Simon shaking his head and cupping your face to press small kisses against the apples of your cheeks.

“Yer not broken, love. Y’just different. Just because we don’t know how t’make you cum just yet doesn’t mean my sweet girl is broken.” His words were soft against your ear as he caressed your head, another time failed.

as time passed, you began losing hope. It’s fair, thinking you just can’t do it because something inside is wrong or maybe you just weren’t cut out to be able to feel that pleasure everyone talks about. You started to notice how Simon even began refusing any type of pleasure. Handjob? No thanks, love. Maybe a blowjob cause you had a stressful day? Nope, but I do need cuddles, sweet girl. He was refusing your love. While he sat in his home office finishing some paperwork, you walked in quietly, staring at him as he stared down at the paper, pushing up his glasses. The glasses that you finally got him to buy because he kept complaining about the television being too hard to see and the news on his phone is too small. Thank god you did though, he looked bloody hot in them. Scooting your way into his office, you stood in front of his desk, catching his attention. “Somethin’ ya need, love?”

your cheeks burned as he looked at you, but you couldn’t get distracted! “Why are you refusing my love?”

it was clear the question caught him off guard by the way he paused, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you. “I’m not refusin’ your love. What makes you say that?”

“Wha-…? Yes you are! Every time I offer you a blowjob or a handjob, you say no. Am I doing something wrong? Does it not feel good? Do you…do you not like me anymore?”

he could hear your little heart shatter in that last question, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. He grabs you hands and sits on his desk, pulling you towards him. “I fucking love you. Neve think for a minute that I stopped loving you. I’m refusing to let you do any of tha’ because I don’t think it’s fair to ye. Not fair that my sweet girl has to endure not bein’ able to cum, so m’not gonna either.” He says while looking straight into your eyes, his thick and calloused fingers pushing some hair behind your ear. “Won’t cum until you can.”

while you thought he was refusing your live, he was actually doing it because he didn’t want you to feel left out? This man looked like a scary man, but he was the most thoughtful and caring teddy bear ever. “What if I never do, though?”

“Then neither will I.” He spoke seriously. “Understand?”

the small nod you give him is enough acknowledgement for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Now, I was doin’ some research, and I found that most women can’t reach an orgasm without some help. So, what do ya think ‘bout lookin’ for some toys with me, eh?”