Is She Here?

Killer Queen | Part Three

Killer Queen masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!reader Word Count: 2.2k Chapter warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, 141, retired (not for long) soldier reader, reader's callsign is Tiger, enemies to lovers (but currently just enemies), referenced past trauma and capture, allusions to forced prostitution (past), graphic injury detail/description, reader suffers from night terrors, swearing, this series will be significantly darker than my other works

Your eyes adjust to the dimly lit room, just enough to make out where the walls are. Where the low ceiling meets the edges. There's no window and the floors are bare concrete, exuding an inescapable chill that permeates your skin and bones.

The metal of the chains bite into your ankles and wrists; the bones more prominent that usual after weeks of starvation and exhaustion. You can hair faint screams beyond the single, barred door; the voices of your team echoing through the halls. Haunting your every waking moment.

There's a man in the corner, armed with a rifle. He watches you day and night - unsympathetic and unmoved.

He will be the first to die, you think. It's a though that keeps you sane. You cling to it like a buoy on a stormy sea.

The door opens and another man enters. He carries with him a bundle of cloth, tucked under one arm. You know what's in the bundle before he even opens it - the rows of polished blades sheathed within. As he takes a seat opposite you, he unrolls it onto the crude wooden table, little more than a barstool. And, as he sets about his daily work, he mentions a man; one who you will eventually be taken to.

Makarov.

You'd met him before; knew his particular brand of cruelty.

After all, he'd had to go through so much trouble to find you again.

You awake to the sound of shrieking. To the taste of copper bitter in your mouth.

It takes a second for you to register that the screams are your own.

Someone is trying to get through the door, but it's been locked and deadbolted on your side. It seems like they've realised that, as the frantic, pounding knocks give way to heavy thuds like someone is trying to break it down entirely. They're shouting too - trying to ask you if you are okay, but you're far beyond words.

You're a sobbing, shivering wreck when the door finally bows inwards, splinting and falling away from the frame. Four men are standing in the hallway, illuminated by the harsh ceiling spotlights. It's an ominous sight that only serves to make your panic worsen. You try to tell them that you're fine, but you're paralysed - frozen under the too-tight sheets.

"Tiger?" the concerned voice comes from the doorway, the men huddled there unsure as to whether or not they should enter your den.

"Go. Away." The words leave your gritted teeth, sweat drenching your skin. The screaming has stopped but your chest still shakes violently, limbs leaden with an invisible, impossible weight.

There's a pause. The four figures remain there.

"Are you sure?"

You screw your eyes shut, unable to calm your own body. You feel pathetic, reduced to a cowering wreck in front of these virtual strangers. Even worse: in front of Ghost.

"Leave," you hiss.

When your eyes open moments later, you home in on the one man still loitering in the doorway. You'd recognise that body anywhere; the broad, sloping shoulders and the tapered, masculine waist.

"Ghost," you growl, "I said leave."

The shadowy outline stays. Instead of doing as he's asked for once in his life, he asks, "You still get the nightmares?"

You don't humour him with an answer.

Regardless, he carries on, crossing the threshold of your room. The door lies, battered and useless, on the floor. "I thought you were still seeing that therapist Laswell suggested? What's the point of them if they don't help you? I thought by now you'd be..." He trails off absentmindedly.

"Better?" you supply, the word drenched in bitter sarcasm. "I'll never be better, Simon. You made sure of that."

"Don't say that name here," he snaps, instantly on the defensive. It brings you a small amount of comfort to think that he feels even half of the tension you do. "Didn't I teach you anything?"

"You said a lot of shit." You blink. "I ignored most of it."

The sound of footsteps fills your ears, heavy as they step over the fallen door. You look up at him as he moves to stand at your bedside, staring down at you. His face is covered by that stupid mask again - the cold, hard plastic shell concealing any hint of emotion from sight.

"What do you mean I 'made sure of that'?"

You frown up at him. "Huh?"

"You said that I made sure you'd never be better. Explain it."

You want nothing more than for him to leave. You're tired, drenched in sweat and pinned to the bed by the scratchy, standard-issue sheets. The door of your suite - the one flimsy layer of privacy in the barracks - has been smashed off of its hinges, and it's most likely the early hours of the morning based on the lack of sunlight coming through the drawn curtains; i.e. not the time to be having this conversation.

The best time, in fact, would be never.

Ghost taps his foot impatiently and you sigh, rolling your eyes. "You got me to trust you and then you left without a word. You went out of your way to reach out to other LTs in the area and tell them not to work with me. You poisoned the well; you made doing my job impossible." A beat of silence passes before you continue on, letting your words settle in the air between you. With every memory, you pick up steam - tone steadily rising in volume. "You moved out of our house and said nothing. I couldn't pay the mortgage so I had to sell it, and I couldn't find my family's new phone numbers or details after they were moved for their own protection, so I was completely on my own and scared shitless."

There are tears in your eyes now, but you refuse to let them fall. Not for him. "I got back in touch with Laswell. She tried her best to help me; to have me moved into sheltered housing because I couldn't get my head on right to look for a new flat. And then I..."

Your mouth feels like it's full of cotton. Throat so dry that you could choke on air.

Never in your mind had you thought you would be here with him, finally able to confront him for everything he did back then. In all honesty, you would have been happy to never see him again. To never have to dig up the horrible, brutal depths of your failures and lay them out in the open - raw, bloody, and exposed - for him to pick through and examine.

"I broke down. Completely." Your hands clench into fists under the covers. "You ruined my fucking life, Ghost. More than Makarov ever could."

"Don't you dare fucking say that." Ghost's voice thunders through the room, his thick, Manchester accent rumbling against the gravel of his tone. You turn away from him, rolling in bed to face the wall. Your refusal to acknowledge him only seems to piss him off all the more. "You were the one who ruined us. Not me. You were the one who chose to lie again and again, and ruin the trust between us. You."

Anger pounds in your ears, rising to a crescendo of boiling rage. You're up on your feet before you know it, squaring up to the man you once loved with all of your icy, savage heart.

Practically snarling in his face, you shove him square in the chest, crowding him against your desk. So unlike himself, he takes it - takes your wrath and allows himself to be backed into a corner.

"You're so full of shit, Simon!" you hiss, no longer caring that you're using his real name within earshot of the others. "You left me! You did the one thing you promised me you'd never do. You ran away when it all got too real. And now you have the calls to call me a coward."

At that, he pushes back slightly, straightening up until you have no choice but to ease back a few steps. Snarling, he retorts, "I left before you had the chance. You made it clear that you were putting distance between us - I was just doing you a favour."

A laugh leaves your lips, the sound bordering on hysterical. Even he looks a little taken aback by it.

"A favour?" you shriek. Someone opens a door down the hall. "Get the fuck out!"

Ghost's jaw slackens under the mask, but you shove him again. He stumbles back.

You push him until he's out in the hallway, blocking the doorway with your body so he can't get back inside. "Once this is all over, I hope I never fucking see you again. I mean it, Ghost - you're fucking dead to me."

He stands there, his stance almost... accepting? You don't know if that's the right word to describe it. He looks so defeated. And when he finally manages words, all he says is, "I'll get someone to fix the door first thing."

As you watch his broad back retreating down the hallway, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness. A stab of pain at what could have been had he just stayed.

Before you turn back into your own room, your eyes meet the weathered ones of Price. He's standing further down the hall, eyeing you with something akin to pity. And then he closes his door, leaving you completely alone once again.

It's safe to say that you don't fall asleep before sunrise.

The next morning, when you return from your morning run, the door is fixed. There's a new lock too - better than the built-in one that was there before - and it brings a small smile to your face.

You don't know if it was Simon or Price, but someone had clearly taken the time to put it there. You highly doubted that the Chuckle Brothers had done it - they'd taken to steering clear of you since you blew up on MacTavish.

Over the next few days, you avoid your new teammates like the plague, and they return the favour. If they hear your night terrors, they do you the solid of ignoring them.

It's a rainy Tuesday when Laswell finally summons you all, declaring that they've finally found something that might help you track down Makarov.

Some small, selfish part of you almost hopes that you never find him; that he'll just drop off the face of the Earth again, but stay gone this time. That he'll fall through the cracks and wind up someplace where he can't hurt anyone. Where he can't hurt you.

But another part of you - the bloody, seething mess that crawled out of that militia base years ago - she savours it. The methodical planning that's been ticking over in the back of your head for years now; keeping you going in the quiet moments.

You sit stiffly in your preferred seat - in the corner, facing the rectangular meeting room's only entrance and exit. You were the first to arrive, followed shortly after by Captain Price. Every once and a while, he makes fleeting eye contact with you, always being the first to break it.

"You really did a number on him, you know?" he says after a few ticks of the wall-mounted clock.

The words surprise you. "I'm sorry?"

The captain clears his throat, shifting in his crappy plastic chair to better face you. "He never said why he was so bent out of shape when he came back to us from leave. We thought it was the same reason he wears the mask; thought it was about Mexico." He eyes you warily before tacking on the next part. "Soap always reckoned it was about a woman."

You just roll your eyes.

"Just never could have predicted it would be the infamous Tiger." Leaning back in his chair, he takes off his hat and rests it on the table in front of him, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. "You know, there's files on you that even I don't have the clearance to access."

"If you have any questions pertinent to us working together, I'm sure Laswell can make some arrangements for you," you reply, tone devoid of any emotion. You're used to this - to superior officers getting curious about your closed past. "Or, better yet, you could just ask me."

Price's expression shifts, seemingly shocked that you've called his bluff. "I... I don't think that's entirely necessary, ..."

Watching him struggle to find the name he's never received, you out him out of his misery. "You can call me T, if that helps."

It beats being solely referred to as Tiger, and you're sure as shit not about to tell any of them your legal name. Not even Simon knew that.

"Alright then, T. I think that if I don't have clearance, there's a reason for it. I'd also like the think that anything I find out about you will be done on your terms, in your own time; that it will come with your respect. Does that sound alright with you?"

You nod slowly, feeling like it's some sort of trick.

It doesn't take long after that for everyone else to file in, taking various seats around the table. Sergeant Garrick fills the seat beside you, regarding you with a somewhat-awkward smile and nod combo.

By the end of the meeting, all you have is a few more possible leads, but it's more than you started with. MacTavish and Garrick are tasked with heading to Spain - Makarov's suspected current hideout - to do some recon work, and Price and Ghost are going to Russia to interrogate some of Makarov's captured allies.

Leaving you.

"I need you to do something important for me," Laswell asks, deep blue eyes locking onto yours. Immediately, your back straightens. "There's an asset in London. She used to be... one of Makarov's girls."

You know what that means. The sea of disturbed expressions around the table tell you that you aren't the only one.

To be one of his girls was to be a prisoner; a slave in his harem. You would know; for a brief time before you joined the military, you were one of them.

"We have her under a new identity, in hiding, but there's a few questions that she might be able to answer for us. I thought that if anyone here knows the right approach, it would be you."

You can feel Ghost's gaze heavy on your side profile. Feel the heat of his eyes burning holes in you as you swallow, nodding slowly.

Solemnly, you hold Laswell's cautious gaze. "When do I go?"

a/n: hi guys, I just wanted to say a big thank you for the continued support on this work/my others! please do feel free to request to be added to any taglist :) also, the next thing I'm working on will be the next part of Unlikely Friendships, so if you are interested in that, please hold tight! - much love, lapetitelapin <3

Taglist: @420-hun @honestlymassivetrash

‘Trick Show’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female soldier reader

Little description of reader- She was part of the team ‘Ghosts’. She goes by ‘Red’.

Red has been recruited into the 141 Task Force after they needed her special tactics to catch a certain asset.

Summary; Ghost knew about the Team ‘Ghosts’ but what he didn’t know was that there was a woman in it. He thought only men like him could be Ghosts, so to test your loyalty and worth of being known as one of them- he put you through a test.

Warnings: smut 18! NSFW! Kidnapping, strapping down, oral (m receiving) rough Simon, some degrading and praise. Freakin’ 4k!!

“Boys, Laswell has brought in a temporary recruit. A Lieutenant they are, they go by Red, and are part of the lethal group we know as ‘Ghosts’.”

The ears of the 141 Task Force perked up at Captain Price’s news of them being in the presence of their idols. They admired these people- no, killing machines that wore a heart just like them, but were the coldest, deadliest beings on earth, it was a surprise that they hadn’t become the Grim Reaper if not Death themselves after so much blood shed with no consequences for it.

The one that was the most ecstatic about meeting such Gods to him, was none other than the one named ‘Ghost’.

Simon Riley would probably be qualified to be part of the Ghosts’ Team, but he was satisfied with being the best in his team, no one better than him.

Physically he didn’t show he was excited or anxious to finally see them, he wasn’t one to expose his emotions, and what helped was that mask he wore 24/7 to conceal what he felt.

So with his bulky arms crossed and his brown orbs holding a deadly glare, he questioned,

“Which Ghost is it? One of the Walker’s?”

His thick British accent hid the amusement he held, he sounded rather unimpressed or unbothered instead. Price looked up from his file as he pointed to the door with a steady tone,

“One’s here, Logan Walker- but to leave behind the one that’s actually staying. What Elias noted about Red is exactly what we need, someone stealthy, sultry and deadly…”

Ghost ignored what was spoken about Red, as he eye twitched at the mention of a Walker in the same atmosphere as him, oddly enough he was a secret admirer of the Walker brothers, and couldn’t wait to be around one of them. Maybe not talk- Simon knew deep down he wasn’t much of a talker anyways, but it’d mean the world to him to be able to see a Ghost in the flesh.

“So when will they arrive?”

Soap’s Scottish accent broke through the thin silence, but also the sound of the door creaking open, and two soldiers rustling in.

“-cut it out Logan- oh! Lieutenant Red, Captain Price. Apologies.”

Red had almost tumbled in at Logan playfully shoving her, but Price kept a steady hand in front of her as if to catch her, as he replied with a calm smile, eyeing Logan.

“No apologies Red, I saw him.”

Red then poked Logan’s chest with a tease,

“See? Now everyone’s knows your a bully-“

“That I’m ‘your’ bully- Logan Waker, Captain Price.”

He then with a proud smile shook Price’s hand in front of Red, further teasing as he was practically on top of her. Now with an elbow on her shoulder he informed Price,

“She’s yours now, do as you please. I’ll take my pack of- oof!”

Red scoffed as her elbow met his side,

“You’re not selling or trading me Logan- I’m sorry Price he’s food and sleep deprived at the moment.”

Price nodded it off as he then pulled Red away from Logan,

“It’s alright Red, c’mere kid.. let’s introduce you to my team, the 141.”

Simon never clearly heard what Price said of you, for he was angry- if not furious, livid. He had never heard of you, a woman, being a lethal Ghost, in the position of a man. It made him feel diminutive, and he hated that.

What about you was so good or special, that you had made it in, and wore the title- the damned mask? He didn’t know.. but he as hell was sure he was going to. Simon would find it out himself before anything happened, before you took place in your mission.

——————

“Wakey wakey… Red.”

Your eyes shot opened at your code name being muttered out, and you immediately jerked forward, only to be pulled back by the chains that were bound around you, giving you no space to move.

Only in your t-shirt and small shorts. Arms, wrists, legs- even ankles… were chained on you to the metal chair you sat on. You were quite incredulous as you gasped out,

“Where am I?!”

A deep growl escaped your throat as you tried to pull on the chains, but no avail was on your side unfortunately, you were tied up as if you were a monster. In confusion you took a split second to think-

‘How’d I get here?’

As everything around you didn’t look familiar- and you couldn’t recall getting kidnapped or taken away at all. Although it wouldn’t be your first time kidnapped, but c’mon.. this time you didn’t remember shit.

Last thing you ever remember doing, was drinking a warm tea offered to you by one of the team members before going to sleep.

A low tsk’ was heard, echoing off the corners of the metals walls, and soon footsteps followed, sounding slow and coming one after another like rain, although it sounded like the thunder but from a far distance. Soon a large shadow came into sight, tall in stature and muscular built, you had yet to see his face, but his presence alone made you gulp.

Nonetheless to hold a strong appearance or impression, you demanded,

“Who are you!?”

A gruff voice followed, one you thought you’ve never heard of, making your skin crawl and heart jump,

“Reaper... call me-“

Then his face came into your full view,

“Reaper... Red.”

Your jaw dropped in question.

‘Who the hell is this?’

His face was unlike one you’ve ever seen, beautifully terrifying. His eyes held a snakes gaze but were doe-like, the small light illuminating above him shadowed what appears to be brown eyes.

His nose was probably sculpted very nicely before it got broken, for now it holds a little twist, either way it fit him oddly well.

His lips, chapped and busted in the middle- looked endearing and kissable. The top lip was a bit small, but the bottom one? Carried out how plumpy his lips looked.

Although over all... it was scarred. An old one laid from the top of his eyebrow to the cheek, and the other went from under the nose to his bottom lip. Little ones were also here and there, like minor scratches- but it was sure that they came from big nightmares.

You’ve never heard or seen this man before, as far as you knew about (for you’ve seen countless of people in your lifetime as a Ghost- you pretty much see everything)

But this one, ‘Reaper’... you’ve never seen such before. Heaven and Hell at once. Light and Darkness. The mystery behind who he could be, triggered you to take all of him, so you could learn every bit of his story and take it.

Before you could ask any other question or further analyze Reaper, his voice came out like a command,

“Give me the intel and names of the Ghost Team, if not I won’t make your death easy.”

‘What?!’

That’s what this evil Reaper wanted? The names and info of the greatest team out there- to what? Kill them. That’s all everyone wanted to do to you guys, because you were good, and scary.

The chances of getting out of this situation alive was probably doubtful, as you were not with your team at the moment, and who knows if the 141 knows your missing! You have a mission to carry out soon for them- yet here you are... in chains at the mercy of this beast of a man.

But you were smart right? The best of the best in your team... you could get your way anyways. You looked up to him as if this was a joke, or showing he didn’t scare you, so you proposed,

“Can I cut you a deal?”

Reaper scoffed lightly as he crossed his arms, thinking for a moment,

‘A deal? You’ve got to be out of your mind..’

He grunted,

“What deal?”

You looked down and around for a bit, before blurting out,

“You’re killing me right?”

Appearing terrifying Reaper specified,

“You’ll be dismembered by the time I’m through with you… God wouldn’t recognize you.”

Biting your lip nervously at how you vividly imagined it, you sighed with distress as you spoke,

“If you’re killing me anyways.. might as well make it count for me- I’ve done too much to be left without a last wish completed. It’d bruise my ego.”

A huff left Reaper’s lips, it dripped out like disbelief as he heard your pride while at the supposed brink of death,

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the wish? Both of us must gain from it before I tear you apart-“

“Fuck me, I give you answers, then you kill me.”

Shock was written all over Reaper’s expression, he never would’ve seen that coming, although your wish was very engrossing to him anyways. Though to keep himself in check to make sure you weren’t being crazy or what not, he straightened his broad shoulders and pried,

“You fucking with me?”

You smirked a bit and almost groaned out,

“It’s that or nothing- you’d kill me for your pride and that’s it… no answers or clues if you-“

Then with gritted teeth to show your desperation or seriousness, along with nodded eyes on him, you added,

“Don’t. Fuck. Me.”

He internally scolded himself when his cock twitched at your words. Blood heading straight towards his cock as you then tilted your head back, licking your lips as you went on,

“Come on… grant me my wish. I’d love to fuck that cock of yours. Taste it, ride it, be railed like an animal with it…”

Slowly you began to move your hips on the chair, being a damned menace as your eyes rolled back. Your breath hitched a bit when you happened to hit a certain spot, and you moaned out,

“Pleasssse… I’ll give it to you Reaper. Fuck me to the point I’m dying, and on my last breaths I’ll give it to you.”

Sex rolled off your tongue, and it dripped like honey and sounded sweet, although the words in between were bitter and sinful. The throbbing in Reaper’s tactical pants were beginning to take over his mind piece by piece, his cock jumping every time you spoke, his breath catching in his throat when you made the smallest yet most wicked sounds.

What was the craziest part about this, was that he was supposed to unfold the truth about his trick before it got serious, or before you released the truth. But with those promises dripping out of your moaning lips, he had to take what he could get out of it as it was part of the deal till the end, so… he was definitely going to go on with it.

But he wanted to tease you a bit more first…

The turmoil he caused you as he made you think he was killing you in the end, excited him on a whole other level. Tears streaming down your eyes, pouty red lips, you spilling your darkest desires, surrendering everything to him because he had the upper hand, it had him palming his painfully hardened dick through his pants, it was naughty all right- but damn it was tempting.

He let a low growl release from his throat as he heard another low whine escape your lips, and the pathetic cries while you clenched your thighs together,

“Reaper…. Please, just do this for me… and I’ll give you everything.”

You had your head tilted back the entire time, giving Reaper the whole view of your neck, the perfect canvas so he could mark you up and paint his teeth on you.

“Reaperrr- wha the deal-“

The last working cell in his brain spoke out, trying to hold him down and back as if he was a rabid dog,

“Shut up! Fucking hellll.”

Reaper lowered his gaze to the ground, not wanting to be spurred on more by your hips grinding onto the chair, although he still subtly rubbed his hardened length.

Simon thought he’d might make it through it- his little façade of being Reaper, and might just let you go instead and humiliate you for your naughtiness and unfaithfulness to the Ghosts. But you were sultry one, mumbling out loud enough for his ears to hear,

“Make. Me.”

Reaper came back and practically gulped at your daring words, and that’s when the thread of his patience and tolerance- snapped.

Head tilted back not by your choice anymore, but by the force of his large hand squeezing your throat and holding it in that position.

“Want me to shut you the fuck up?”

You were able to pull up one side of your lip, putting up a smirk as the words came out,

“Did I stutter... Reaper?”

“Fuck it-“

The zipper of his pants went down and in seconds his leaking tip came into your view as he had lowered your head by gripping your hair.

“See this? This is what your naughtiness does.”

Sucking your bottom lip then releasing it you questioned,

“What does it taste like?”

Reaper only smirked and muttered,

“Taste the fruit of your affliction, Red.”

No more smiles or words came you of your dirty mount, as it was stuffed to the brim by his fat cock.. shutting you up. He gave you no time to think or breathe as he fucked your mouth roughly, his hips hitting against your lips as he didn’t relent for one second.

“Fuck- suck on this fat- c-cock! Maybe that’ll shut you u-up! Oh Fuc-“

Groaning out in ecstasy as he held a full hand of your hair, guiding you back and forth, making sure your tongue got every bit of him, your nose touched his pelvis, and his cock touched the back of your sore throat.

“Such a good mouth you fucking slut- ohh fuck!!”

He’s had blowjobs before- but this? Ohh he could’ve sworn he was in heaven at how pleasurable it was. The way your tongue grazed over him and how you applied the right pressure, it got him on every nerve- the right way. To the point his eyes were rolling back and he was panting in desperation, his peak skyrocketing to incoming release.

“Fuck it I’m s-so close!! Ah!!”

But now as he loved the way you felt, he didn’t want to cum in your mouth anymore.. he wanted to cum on all of you.

“Fuck you-“

He left you gasping for air as he had suddenly pulled out, whimpering at the lost of your warm tongue on him, but he then growled as he searched like a mad man through his pockets for the key to the chains.

He had gotten most of them off of you in lightning speed, but the frustration of his high pending had him ripping off the rest of the chains from the chair, sending the pieces flying.

You were shocked at his desperation, and at his strength, trying to collect the thought of who he was as he was controlling, weak, desperate, and a good fucker-

“AH!”

Breath escaping your lungs as Reaper had grabbed you by the waist roughly and placed you face-down on the ground, hips pulled up to meet his crotch.

But what confused you was when he hesitantly asked, still using his firm tone,

“You sure are you want this?”

Your head was pressed to the cold ground by his hand, but you lifted it slightly as he had let you do so, wondering what you were going to say. Eyes meeting his you replied nonchalantly,

“It’s part of the deal isn’t it?”

His stern look turned unexpressive,

“That doesn’t answer it-“

“Fuck me Reaper, please.”

Fine, that’s what you wanted that’s what you’d get.

“As you wish.”

Cold air met your ass as he had pulled down your shorts, lifting your knees so he could slide them off completely.

‘Smack!!’

You let out a sharp squeal as his warm, large palm had met your ass, before his cock was pressed up to your clit, rubbing your wet slick all over it. You had grown soaking wet at gagging on his cock, and now your wetting him again as he’s pressing his tip into you.

He watched you for your reactions to his thick cock entering your tight pussy, but like that damned trained Ghost you were, you were expressionless, holding all the emotions in you in a cage, even when the craziest of things were happening to you.

But that made him almost angry, hating that you were the Ghost and hiding the emotions, while he gave up everything of himself to break you.

So he’d then break you- with his cock.

The rest of his length he slammed into you, and the only reaction you showed was with a groan,

“oh fuck”

He had started pounding into that pussy of yours, harder than ever, his hands gripping your ass tightly or your hips, wanting to leave marks and maybe cause a fraction a pain to you- just to hear your cry or break- but instead you moaned out like a bitch in heat. Although tears had started to fall- not cause your soul broke, but your body responded to him breaking it.

“Fuck!! Ugh- harder Reaper pl-please!!”

A sob escaped your wet lips as Reaper grasped onto your hip painfully hard, and his other hand found your throat, bringing your back against his chest with a hard smack, earning a delicious gasp from you.

He relentlessly began to rut into your throbbing pussy. Punctuating his words with every thrust.

“Fuckin’ helll... What. A. Good. Fucking. Pussy. Yesss Ohhhh fuck!!”

Squelching, wet sounds could be heard from your pussy as you were dripping from his precum and yours, skin slapping repeatedly followed as he went on and on, following your command to the perfect ‘T’.

His hard thrusts met your cervix every time, hitting that gummy part in you that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back, your breath was even knocked out of you as he pounded you like an animal.

Soon his hand left your hip, and traveled down your navel, straight to your clit, his two fingers pressed down on it and made you squeal,

“Oh!! Reaper- please touch my pussy! Ah- Yes!!! Like that!!!”

Small but hard circles were pressed onto your clit, further stimulating your climaxing high as your body was experiencing euphoria on a whole other level. He could feel how dangerously close you were to the edge, as your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, swallowing his length like a tight vice.

So to put an end to the chase, he purposely found your clit once again and rubbed tight circles, while railing into you faster than ever as he felt his high coming too.

“Cum f’me. C’mon Red- oh fuck-“

You got a hand full of his hair from behind you and pulled it as you began to see stars and your legs even started shaking.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming- please don’t st-stop!! Oh fuck Reaper!!”

Toes curling as you let out a long moan, finally feeling the band snap, and stars escaping every where. Reaper rode out your high as he rutted his hips into you, dragging the pleasure out for you as he drive himself closer, wanting to feel your warm cunt a little longer.

He was going to come any second now, his thrusts were harsh, quick, and the rhythm wasn’t consistent anymore, he had lost his streak a long while ago as he was going crazy rutting into your pussy.

All this while you were of breath, as you felt it all dissipate, but it was cut short when Reaper suddenly held a firm grip on your waist and flipped you over.

“Oh-“

When you fell on your back you saw the man hover over you. He was covered in sweat and his cheeks held a bright pink color, his eyes- all of him screamed sex and highs as he looked down at you hungrily.

When he had discarded all of his clothes- you’d never know, but he was bare before you, his tits- chest.. his chest glistening in the light covered in different tattoos which held different stories.. scars were part of the design on his canvased body.

Wet sounds could still be heard and that’s when your eyes and head tracked down to seeing him milk his cock, girthy it was and long in length too, red at the tip.

Your hands grabbed onto his that held your throat tight, as he began to let low moans and small whimpers escape.

Wanting to spur the moment, you began to coo,

“Come on Reaper... reward me.. give it to me.”

Your voice got him high and in seconds you were hearing a deep growl escaping his parted lips, and soon felt the warmth of his thick white cum painting your tummy to your breasts.

For being called Reaper he looked like a angel to you. He was quite the sight to behold... but now.. it was your time to shine like the Ghost your were after all.

As he tired to soak in is post-sex moment, you caught him by the waist with your legs, and flipped him around, where you ended up above him- hovering over him this time.

Simon’s brown eyes didn’t catch yours as your face was over his, but it was a glistening shine, a dagger shining in threat as it was pressed against his throat.

Words couldn’t collect in his mind which meant his tongue was speechless.

‘What the fuck-‘

“Did I pass the test Lieutenant.. Ghost?”

That sultry voice of yours came out from the bottom of your cold heart.

Simon let out a choked sound as he couldn’t quite grasp what the heck had just happened and what the hell he was looking at.

He was still coming down from his high and now feeling confusion if not panic arise in him at this, and it wasn’t a good combination if you wanted a clear head. But his fuck up kinda dawned on him as you added,

“I knew it was you Simon Riley…”

Oh fuck he shamelessly could’ve cum again at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, how wicked of you, but weak of him.

Although his eyes did widen and still showed that he didn’t necessarily believe you, so you went on with a sweet chuckle,

“what? You though that only you did your homework on people? Ha.. think again ‘Ghost’.. no matter how much ‘you’ think so little of me, I’ll always be a Ghost.. and of course.. I did my homework on you too. I know ALL about you.”

You then planted your hand on his neck, where a large scar laid, and you calmly yet firmly stated, eyes filled with honesty,

“I wrote the file on when you got buried alive, and crawled your way out. And this scar, I wrapped it up for you while you were unconscious on the heli when we finally found and picked your ass up.”

A breath of relief was then released from your lips, as you had finally got this confession off your chest, with exhaustion you plopped down onto Simon’s chest, resting your palms on your thighs. Simon didn’t realize how effective you were as a Ghost, and how much you knew about him now more than ever… he couldn’t risk letting you go now.

His hands snaked around you and rested on your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he declared,

“You can’t tell a soul about this.”

With that seductive way of yours, you leaned over Simon and traced his jaw with the dagger, looking straight into his soul as you suggested.

“Then you better ask ‘How hard?’ every time I tell you to fuck me- understood?”

The authority in your voice had him reply with a shuddered breath, not being able to take his ego off its knees. And of course, he was going to comply, he was just as addicted now.

“Affirmative ma’am.”

You smirked in triumph at his response, bringing his pink lips to yours, pressing a messy kiss to his lips and tasting the roof of his mouth. He let a sigh escape his throat in pleasure, but it didn’t last long when you bit down hard on his bottom lip, causing him to hiss. Blood trickled down his plumpy lip to his chin, but before it could touch the ground, you slowly- while keeping eye contact with Simon, you licked it up and cooed,

“Good boy…”

Like a shy school boy Simon’s cheeks were dusted with pink, his eyes not meeting yours anymore as he was filled with shame for his foolishness, and for how weak he was- falling into a Ghost’s trap so easily.

You then gripped his chin and gave him a last lecture, just for him to carry on.

“Next time you pull a gun on me to question my ability.. just remember I’m always two steps ahead of you- although fucking your gun was damn pleasurable. Oh and one last thing.. I specialize in seductiveness as a Ghost… this pussy gets answers every time. But no one has lived ‘till the end of it- but you..”

-I need help y’all-

ONE OF THE BEST PETER PARKER EDITS IVE EVER SEEN

Saying “this niche, properly tagged, warned, and rated piece of fiction could theoretically hurt someone” is not a good argument. This properly labeled cookie with the allergen information at the bottom that contains gluten could theoretically harm me very badly, but only if I consume it. Tags are like nutrition labels, and warnings are like allergy information. If you know you have an allergy to something, the logic is to stay away from it. It is the same with fiction. I’m not running through stores yelling at people to take all the products with gluten off the shelves just because it could hurt me. Instead I ignore it and go to the gluten free section and find cookies that are right for me. And if running through a grocery store yelling sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. Stop doing the same with fiction.

aww your bodyguard!simon au reminds me of enemies to lovers its so cute!! 🥺

aww baby, it definitely would be! 😙 he would hate to be around all the popstar things you do, he doesn't understand it and he doesn't care for it.

continued from here

"so fuckin' stupid" he muttered, practically glaring under his balaclava at everyone around him. but especially at you. it's almost comical. ghost was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and proud at 6'4 and weighing at around 250 lbs. but one look from you and he could feel himself shatter beneath your gaze. your eyes on him making him feel exposed, vulnerable almost.

god, he hated you. your terrible attitude, horrible humour, the little miss know it all, the popstar princess bullshit. he hated you with every fibre of his body

you hated him, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his sarcasm. his silent and brooding at everything you did, his judging gaze constantly looking at you as if you've committed the biggest crime. you hated him with every fibre of your body.

and yet ghost learnt, the line between hate and love was a very thin line indeed.

despite how much he denies over and over, there's a tenderness when he looks at you. even with his frown, even with his harsh words, there's a flicker of emotion that runs through his brown eyes. it's only for a second but even for him, that's a second too long.

late at night when he's alone and relieved of his bodyguard duties, when the buzz of the songs and the chatter of the fans come to a silence, he dares himself to allow to dream. he hates how most of them revolve around you now. his breath shutters when they take a turn, his hand snaking down his abdomen and to his weeping cock for attention. he doesn't usually let himself have this pleasure but god, he can't help himself with you.

dreaming especially of the pretty sounds you would make when he pushes his aching cock between your slick folds, how beautiful you'd look splayed out across the bed as he took his sweet time learning every single thing about your body. what made you whine and arch, what made you whimper and moan. how you'd react with every sloppy thrust, how you'd clench around him with every movement of his hips

and it only served to infuriate him further when he knows he could never have you that way

•••

he's so emotionally constipated and he wonders why everyone is scared of him :")

“Incredible. You follow one idiot question with another.”

— Tony, definitely

I see no difference. (x)

THE FEDS RETREAT.

This is so fucking amazing to me.  

to the male population: when you don’t know every lyric to a @taylorswift song and don’t act like this during a concert - i’m sorry but we’re not meant to be. thanks to mr. mendes for setting my standards even higher.