Biker!Ghost 3 1 , 2 , 3 , 3.5 , 4

Hot. (Alejandro X Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, Alejandro being a fucking animal 😫, (sorry if I missed any)

Summary: Reader is down bad for Alejandro

This is not proofread I’m at work and don’t have time just yet XD

Alejandro is skilled. Quiet, a great shot, can fight incredibly well. He works really well under pressure despite having a bad temper. He’s caring, he’s loving. He takes care of his soldiers. He’s got everything going for him.

Sometimes, he’s aggressive. On occasion he’ll let his emotions get the best of him, but something you noticed pretty quickly, was that he was like a caged animal when he was angry. You were apart of Task Force 141, working alongside Alejandro when Los Vaqueros met up with 141. You took a liking to him right away. Loving how kind he was. You met him, shook his hand. And melted right into his touch. Your closer friends in 141 noticed how different you acted around him and caught on pretty quickly. Teasing you for your crush on the Colonel. You did your best to ignore them. After the fight with Hassan was over, a few of you decided to stay around. Helping Alejandro rebuild his base. Raising money, getting donations for machinery. Everything.

It took a while for the massive base to be fully rebuilt, but when it was, it was stunning. A masterpiece. After it was built, Alejandro asked everyone from 141 to stay. Help in the fight. A couple agreed, a couple went him. You obviously agreed to stay. You fell in love with the place and the people here. Not just because they had a very appealing leader, but because you got along with them. Of course, if Captain Price needed your assistance at all, you’d be on the first flight out of there. But for now, you were going to spend your time there. You got along with Rudy very well, even met his children and wife. She was beautiful and nice. An amazing cook.

Alejandro took a liking to you right away. Not only are you a good soldier, but you follow orders like no one he’s ever seen. You work your ass off, always have a positive attitude, and you’re an amazing addition to his team. After a few months of you on base, he gets used to you being around. He especially likes that you soothe his newest recruits after he lashes out at them. He had heard around base that you did your best to calm them down, become a peacemaker. He didn’t know it until he heard it for himself.

He had gotten a little aggressive with a new recruit for falling asleep on watch. He was probably a little more harsh than he needed to be, but he was on edge lately. He was on his way to find the recruit when he spotted you approaching him already. He was sitting in the mess hall at one of the round tables. “Hey. It’s okay.” You smile, passing him one of your MRE’s. “I’m not going to eat it, you take it.” You smile. “I know it’s tough getting yelled at like that, but I hope you know the reason he does it.” You sigh, sitting down next to him. He looks up at you, clearly upset still. “He doesn’t make strong soldiers by being soft, you know? You’re his brother now, you work alongside him. He doesn’t want to see you die, and if that means he has to be tough on you, it just does.” He nods his head. You lay your hand over stop of his. “He doesn’t hate you, he probably thinks you’re a good soldier. He just doesn’t want to lose any of his brothers or sisters. None of us do.” He nods his head. “That one has Vanilla pound cake in it. It’s really good.” You smile. Patting him on the back as you go to walk away. He grasps your hand, stopping you. “Gracias, I appreciate your kindness señorita.” He mumbles. You smile at him. “comer hasta” is the last thing you say before walking away.

After hearing that, Alejandro pays a little more attention to you. Your kindness knows no bounds. You have no enemies on base. You are kind and friendly to everyone. Alejandro likes it. You get called into his office and immediately drop what you’re doing. Making your way for his office. You send him a smile when you walk inside. He motions for you to sit down in front of his desk. You jump slightly when he throws an MRE on top of it. You narrow your eyes looking up at him, confused. “Heard you talking to the new recruit.” He smiles. Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh.. uh. I’m really sorry, I know I shouldn’t have overstepped I just-“

Him laughing cuts you off. You freeze up, body going rigid. “Relax Cariño.” He smiles. He leans back against his desk, resting his hands back on it. You relax slightly. “I think what you’re telling them is very kind. You make me seem like less of a dick to them. Te admiro.” He smiles. “Oh uh.. thank you.” You blush. “You’re a valuable asset to me.” He smiles. You look down at your hands, cheeks very red. He notices the way you’re responding to him. It’s like he’s caught you off guard. “Thank you sir. I appreciate it.” You smile. “Keep it up, and here.” He passes you the MRE. “For the one you gave away.” He smiles. “Thank you.” You smile.

—

Alejandro really liked you, not in a romantic way. But you were just one of his favorite soldiers.

He hasn’t looked at a woman in a romantic way in a long time, he liked to keep himself away from all of that. No feelings he’s ever had were ever strong enough to stick. None of them were strong enough to last while he worked. His parents always harassed him, wondering when he was going to have kids. He always shrugged them off, saying it would happen eventually.

He’s exhausted. It’s close to one in the morning. He’s just finished up all of the paperwork he’d fallen behind on overtime. He decided to stay up late and take the next day off since he was up late. He’s passing by the men’s and women’s showers, trying to make sure everything is okay and in order. Everyone should be asleep. He hears a moan come from the women’s showers, eyebrows furrowing. He had a strict rule when it came to his base. No relations with anyone on base at all. He knows he shouldn’t barge in, but it’s late and he just wants to go to his room. He opens the door, closing it behind him. He can hear a shower going, clearly an attempt to conceal any noises. When he steps up, he can see the naked form of someone, as he inches closer, he sees that it’s you. But to his surprise, there’s no one else with you. You’ve got a hand clamped down around your mouth, fingers knuckle deep inside of yourself as you pump them in and out. You’re soaking wet from the water running over you, and Alejandro is frozen. He can’t tear his eyes away from you. His body is frozen, eyes drinking in every inch of you. He can feel himself hardening in his cargo pants, breathing out. You tilt your head back, crying out into your hand. It’s clear that you’ve just reached your high. Alejandro snaps himself out of his daze, quickly going for the door before you turn the shower off and hear him.

You finish your shower, redressing yourself and making your way out. You don’t expect anyone else to be out at this hour, it’s passed curfew anyways. You’re ringing your hair out with a towel when you open the door, almost running right into the last person you want to see. A gasp leaves your lips and he crosses his arms. “It’s late.” He mumbles. “I.. I couldn’t sleep so I wanted to take a shower to.. relax.” You swallow hard. He takes a step toward you, and you step back. Your back hitting the wall as he moves in closer. “Don’t disobey the rules, Cariño. You don’t want to see me angry.” He mumbles. His face is only a few inches from yours. You nod your head. “Y-yes sir.” You swallow hard. With that, he spins around, walking away from you. Had he heard you? That one moan you accidentally let out, it was loud. Maybe he heard it. You pray he hadn’t.

You quickly rush to the women’s barracks, ready to forget what just happened.

Alejandro is struggling when finally gets into his room. He didn’t see you like that, so what was he feeling? Was he really this touch starved? He palms himself through his pants, wincing uncomfortably. He wanted to fix this problem, but he didn’t have the patience for it. It was always so hard to finish. He’d given up on it completely. It usually would just go away in its own, but this time. He just couldn’t help it. Tugging his cargo pants down his legs, he started pumping himself in his hand, feeling more sensitive than usual. Maybe there was something with you that brought something out of him.

—

You wanted to open up to a few of your friends on base about what had happened, but didn’t want to embarrass yourself any more than you already had. You were embarrassed for the entire day afterward, thankful you hadn’t seen him for most of the day. Not until later anyways.

You’re helping a few new recruits train, and after a mishap with a target, he was going off on one of them. Being more aggressive than he needed to be. You set your gun down, stepping in front of the recruit. “This is not your place.” He breathes. “I approved it, if you’re going to be mad at anyone be mad at me.” He’s still angry. You dismiss the recruit, which pisses him off even further. “You do not have the authority. Do not step on my toes.” He growls. You stare at him, face completely emotionless as you stare at him. “Like I said, I approved it. If you want to be mad, be mad at me.” He grits his teeth, hard. “My office. Now.” He growls. He begins walking and you follow after him, having someone else take over for you. He opens his office door and you step inside, closing it behind you. “You do not undermine me. Do you understand?” He breathes. “Yes sir.” You look up at him. “I hope you’re not just covering for them.”

“I’m not a liar.”

A snort leaves his lips. Making you look at him in confusion. “If you’re not a liar tell me what you were doing in the showers last night.” He crosses his arms. Your eyes widen. “I couldn’t sleep so I was trying to relax.” He doesn’t miss the way that you avoid eye contact with him. He takes a deep breath, walking around the desk. His mind is going crazy. He hasn’t had feelings like this for a very long time. Not for years. His cock is hard, and he’s already got beads of sweat forming at his hairline. He closes his eyes for a second. “You know, for how big this place is, gossip spreads fast.” He leans up against his desk. You look nervous and confused. “I know about your little crush on me, have for some time now.”

You look down, avoiding his strong gaze.

He grits his teeth, stepping forward. Lifting your chin to look at him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” You whimper at his touch, your eyes want to flutter closed but you force them open. “What’s gotten into you hm? You’re always such a good girl and now? Chica mala.” He mumbles. You swallow hard. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I- I do have a crush on you.” You breathe out. Voice is unsteady and desperate. “But I can stay away, I know that nothing will ever come of it.” He’s still got a tight grip on your chin. “I’m sorry that I broke your rules Colonel, I promise it won’t happen again.” You’re looking up at him. So desperate to please him. “You can make it up to me, hermosa.” He breathes. “Okay, I’ll do anything.” You nod your head lightly and he leans against the back of your chair, grasping your hand and lifting it enough. He rests your hand on the front of his cargo pants. Holding it there by pressing the palm of his hand against the back of yours. Your eyes widen and you look away from him to see what he’s doing. You gulp, and he smiles at this. “Go on.” He mumbles. You take a deep breath and he draws his hand away. Relieved when you keep yours on him. You’ve never done anything like this before. Nerves shot through you. You start palming him, earning a groan from him. He rocks his hips into your hand, desperate for your touch. “That’s it. That’s a good girl.” He groans. He lifts his shirt slightly, giving you a view of his lower stomach. His pants sat low on him, showing off the v-line leading down to his cock. He brushes over your bottom lip with his left hand, his right still resting on the arm of the chair.

He pushes his thumb between your lips, and you open your mouth so that he can push it in further. Sucking down on it. Dribbles of your drool drip off of his thumb onto your chin. “Fuck- on your knees soldier.” He breathes. You obey immediately and he leans back against his desk, holding onto it. “Show me what a good girl you are.” He mumbles. You move forward, looking up at him as you reach for his belt. You slide the leather through the metal piece, pulling it back. Once you’ve got it unbuckled, his cargo pants are next. You unbutton them, unzipping them. You tug them down his thighs just enough. You grasp his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his hard cock. He’s much larger than you expected. You pump him a couple times before leaning forward, taking the tip into your mouth. Sucking gently at it. His thighs weaken and he clutches the desk for dear life. “Si como esa bebe” he gasps. “Fucking good girl.” He moans. You take him down further, starting to hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and harder until the suction sounds are lewd. He watches you take him down. “Look at me.” He breathes.

Your eyes flickering up to him, staring up at him through your eyelashes. He’s lucky he doesn’t bust right there. “You going to be a good girl?” He asks. Running his fingers over your bulged cheek. Mouth so full of him. He smirks. You’re completely at his mercy, not even hesitating to please him. You moan around him, clearly agreeing. “I’ll teach you baby. Show you why you shouldn’t disobey me.” He breathes. You moan around him again. He tilts his head back, swallowing hard. You’re already getting him close. So close. He wraps a hand in your hair, forcing you down into him further. He forces you down as far as you can take him, eyes rolling back as you swallow around him. You start to turn red from him cutting off your oxygen. “You’re mine. I control you. I’ll tell you when you can fucking breathe.” He growls. Holding you still until your eyes start to flutter closed. He finally lets you go and you slide completely off of him, gasping for air. He chuckles at you.

“Tan patética.”

He grasps your arm, pulling you up no problem. He grasps your thighs, lifting you up onto his desk. The way that he man handles you has your cheeks flushing. He grasps your pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down your legs, spotting panties that definitely weren’t proper military apparel. “Bad girl.” He smirks. They’re red lacy panties. You’re thankful you wore them. He grasps the hem of them, pulling them down your thighs. “Not exactly military approved baby.” He chuckles. “Have to wear something that makes me feel like a woman.” You blush. He smiles. “I can make you feel like a woman, no panties needed.” He smirks. You tilt your head back, blushing hard. He laughs, knowing that he’s gotten to you. He pushes your shirt up over your hips, pushing you back further onto his desk. He breathes. Licking his lips. He lowers himself, rubbing his thumb over your clit. “Bonita coño” he moans, lowering his face into you. You gasp when you feel his tongue, clutching hard at the edge of his desk “You’re going to be my good girl, yeah?” He moans into you. Tongue flicking back and fourth over your pussy. “Yes- yes sir!” You pant. He smiles into you, looking up at you. You’ve got your head tilted back. Lips parted. He sucks at your clit, swirling his tongue over you. He knows he’s good at this, it’s one thing he really enjoyed doing. You taste so sweet, and he could spend hours with his face buried between your thighs. A mewl leaves your lips, and he can tell by the way your clit is starting to throb that you’re getting close. He holds your thighs tightly. You’re panting hard, trying to clamp your thighs shut. “Keep your legs open.” He growls. “I, I can’t. I’m sorry-“ you whimper. “It’s so much.” You sob. He growls, pinning your hips to the desk and holding onto your thighs tightly. He keeps up his abuse on your clit and you cry out, louder than you intend to. Your hips buck up, and you try to close your legs but he keeps them open. Riding out your high on his tongue.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks. You shake your head. “Good. I don’t have to be gentle.” He adjusts himself, lining his cock up with your opening and sinking himself inside of you. He’s gripping your ankles as he starts to thrust himself inside of you. The air leaves your lungs, gasping in a breath as he starts to fuck you. Your eyes fill with tears at the overstimulation. They stream down your face and you’re moaning out, squirming around beneath him. “Quédate quieta, niña patética” he growls. He slides out of you, growing frustrated. He’s horny and he’s desperate to cum. He lifts you up, flipping you around so that you’re on your hands and knees. He pulls you back by your hips until you’re right on the edge of the desk. He holds your hips as he slides himself into you again. Groaning out. He rests his hands on your ankles once more, clutching onto you as he starts to thrust into you. The way that you feel so tightly wrapped around him, it’s almost too much. He can’t remember the last time he’s had sex. His high is approaching pathetically fast. He grasps your hips, thrusting faster. He needs to get you to another high.

If there’s one thing about Alejandro, he always takes care of his women. The desk is usually sturdy, but it slides against the floor with each hard thrust he takes, and he prays that nobody walks by and hears what’s going on behind his door. Their Colonel breaking his own rules by fucking you on his desk. You’re panting hard, moaning out for him. You can’t see his face but he’s smirking. You’re at his complete mercy. “Feels better than your fingers right baby? I saw you. Saw you with you fingers knuckle deep in this little pussy. So desperate to cum. I bet you feel so much better than that hm?” He smiles. You nod your head. “Yes-“ a gasp leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “It feels so good.” You cry. You feel so full, something you weren’t used to. He grasps hold of your hair pulling you back into him. His lips right at your ear, his other hand wrapping around your stomach. He moves it lower to rub circles at your clit, feeling you start to squirm. He attacks your neck with his mouth, until you’re moaning louder. “Such a good fucking girl.” He moans. “Thank me.” He smirks. “I’m fucking you, making you feel so good even though you disobeyed me. I’m making your dreams come true even when you don’t deserve it. Fucking agradeceme.” A gasp leaves your lips, you’re right on the edge. “Thank you Colonel. I don’t deserve it, I know I don’t, thank you, thank you!” You’re chanting it. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, hips hammering into yours. You’re right on the edge. You grasp his built arms, holding onto him. “Alejandro- I’m going to cum!” You cry. He can feel your tears dripping off of your chin onto his arms and he smiles. “Beg me for it baby. Demuéstrame que te lo mereces.” He resumes attacking your neck, smiling when you reach your own hand down to rub circles on your sensitive nub. “Please make me cum-“ you gasp. “Please let me cum- please- I’ll be a good girl. I won’t disobey you again- I’m yours- all yours.”

His lips are right next to your ear. His deep voice rattles your brain. “Fucking cum for me.”

Another sob leaves your lips and he covers your mouth with his hand to conceal the moans that leave them. You relax forward, sobbing into his hand. His hips stutter as he reaches his own high, filling you to the hilt with his own orgasm. Holding your hips against his. Trying to keep his filth inside of you for as long as possible. You’re breathing hard, thighs shaking violently from how rough he’s been. He’s panting hard. Leaving kisses behind your ear. He wraps his hands around your stomach again, hugging you from behind. He slides himself out of you, pressing his forehead to the middle of your back, hissing as he slides out of you. “Fuck.. I’m sorry if I was too rough.” He breathes. “No.. no. It.. was amazing.” You breathe. Cheeks burning bright. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to get me into trouble.” He chuckles. You giggle, the sound makes his heart thump in his chest. “Did.. did you see me last night?” You ask. He moves you until you’re sitting on the edge of his desk and he’s moved between your thighs. “By accident. I heard.. a cry. So I went inside to check on whoever it was. It was late, I didn’t think..” he breathes. “I saw you. Couldn’t tear my fucking eyes off of you.” He chuckles. He lifts your chin, leaning down. He presses his lips to yours, feeling your body tense up. You really like him. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and he can tell you’re in a daze. His touch sends you right into a subspace and he can’t help but chuckle at you.

He helps you down from his desk, chuckling when your knees buckle under you. He holds you up until you steady yourself. “Take the rest of the day off, go rest. I’ll go make sure everyone at the range is good.” He glides a hand over your thigh. “These are mine, by the way.” He snags your panties.

—

The next day, he’s following Rudy to his office. “Where are they?” He asks. “Top drawer.” Alejandro nods to his desk. He’s waiting in the doorway for Rudy to pick up the paperwork. His eyes widen when he remembers. “Rudy wait!” He yelps. But it’s too late, Rudy has already opened the drawer, eyes widening as he pinches the fabric between his fingers, lifting it up. “Colonel. Breaking your own rules I see.”

“Put it down and let’s go.” He groans. Rudy shoves them to the side, picking up the stack of paperwork. He chuckles as he follows Alejandro out into the hallway. “Who is it?” Rudy asks, just as you happen to pass by, avoiding eye contact with Alejandro like it’s the plague. Cheeks brightening a little bit as you pass by. Rudy glances behind himself at you. “Never mind.” He nudges Alejandro with his elbow. Alejandro is blushing, giving Rudy a shove. “Better quit before I give you 50 push ups, hermano.” He laughs. “She’s real pretty. Got a nice body. Maybe you should pursue it.” Rudy shrugs. “I’m going to.” Alejandro mumbles. “Now leave me alone.” He laughs.

“Not a chance.”

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, vague threesome (f/m/m), vague nipple play, fingering, voyeur!price, alcohol consumption, vague spit kink *not proofread, just pure horny

[why is price drinking such a common thing in my fics good lord im a slut 💀💀]

MINORS DNI!!

there's a flutter in your chest as alejandro drilled his fingers into your sopping hole, laying his palm flat against your clit. you're situated in alejandros lap with your back to his chest. while price is stood across from you, leaning against his desk with a whiskey glass in hand.

alejandro's free hand smoothed up your stomach to your chest, taking your breast into his palm. your hands are holding onto his forearms, your nails leaving crescent imprints on his skin as you squirm and shake in his lap. alejandro groped and squeezed your flesh, laying kisses on the back of your neck.

"you look so pretty, mi vida."

your knees are hooked over his, his legs holding your legs open, keeping your sloppy cunt on full display for price to admire. you can barely focus on anything other than the unbridled pleasure that alejandro inflicts on you. your heart is thumping in your ears as he whispers sweet praises in your ear.

"hmm, messy little thing, aren't you?"

price moves to stand in front of you, tilting your head down to make you watch how alejandros fingers disappear inside you and how much of a wet mess there is in his lap. he moves your head back up, a hand tangling in your hair to keep your head back.

"open."

it's a quick demand as he gives your hair a gentle tug. your mouth easily falls open, watching with glassy eyes as price takes a sip of his drink. he pours the drink into your awaiting mouth, a smirk tugging at his lips when you don't swallow, just hold the liquid as alejandros fingers start to work faster.

"atta girl, love. swallow for me."

there are practically hearts in your eyes as you blindly follow prices words, the whiskey leaving a pleasant burn as it goes down. price holds your neck, fingers squeezing around your throat ever so lightly. your eyes almost roll back into your head as alejandros fingers brush against your g-spot. you can't keep your eyes open as alejandro works you closer to your release, drool pooling at the corner of your lips.

"eyes on your captain, cariño."

the rumble of alejandros voice in your ear is near euphoric as your thighs shake and try to close around his hand. your nails are digging into his arms harder, teetering so gently over the edge. price hums quietly, cupping your cheeks with one hand and squishing them together. your mouth falls open quickly, letting price pour more of his drink into your mouth.

"c'mon sweetheart, make a mess for me."

(Y/n): Sometimes I think of you as a piñata.

Graves: Because I’m sweet as candy?

(Y/n): Because I want to beat you with a stick.

Alejandro, wiping a tear: I’m so proud of you

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During the mission somewhere in Austria, König takes an interest in TF 141 medic. Little did he know, she's Lieutenants Riley's girlfriend.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

A/N: Possessive/Protective boyfriend Ghost? Yes, double and give to the next person. Also inserted Hank/Connor "lieutenant" reference, I just find it funny. Y/C ━ Your Codename (have fun, pick something babes) Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: nothing, reader is eastern european coded (we deserve more recognition as reader inserts ꃋᴖꃋ )

Word count: 1.8k

The tree line of the thick forest melted into the base of the rocky mountains. Your gaze traveled across its pointy shapes and up higher - there hadn’t been a single cloud on the sky that day, causing a slight heatwave.

You let your body slightly wag as the car passed over surface bumps on the earthen road. The dry lump grew in your throat as the dust hovered all over the convoy and all you could think of was a sip of cold, mineral water. 

Soon, you reached the small town in Austria, secluded from the ring roads. The cars were parked near the surrounding forest at the entrance of the village. Lieutenant Riley's sight crossed with yours as he helped you get out of the truck. 

He could be such a gentleman sometimes. 

A handful of soldiers gathered near the vehicles - some of them wearing a KorTac patch on their shoulders, the other ones (from your unit) a Task Force 141 badge. But besides those sigils, none of them were wearing full battle gear. 

There was no active fighting against the enemy at the moment. It was just a careful chase after the terrorists - following their footsteps, interviewing associates, gathering proof. Because at the end of the day, the military (or army related organization) cannot shed blood over a defamation.

But KorTac and TF 141? Quite an unusual partnership between the two groups, right?

━ Ghost, Y/C you’re goin’ with me ━ Captain Price announced, adjusting his hat as he closed the car’s doors behind him. ━ Gaz, you’ll stay here, is that clear? 

Captain heard a firm ‘yes, sir’ from your teammate Kyle who was to stay at the parking spot. Meanwhile the KorTac colonel gave an order to his soldiers in German. “Such a tough language” you thought to yourself. Only two of his people went along the wood road with the rest of you.

The Colonel. 

Exceptionally tall, Austrian man who served many years for his country. The one you found yourself in on the latest mission. 

Each time you wanted to look at him while Colonel König was speaking, you had to chin up. And even though, a black hood with a red paint on it covered his whole face besides his cold, blue eyes. He was lowkey intimidating with his massive size, but just like your captain, the Austrian’s rough looks didn’t reflect his character. At least to you and your comrades he was quite nice. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same about his teammates. 

You didn’t have to walk for long as the isolated, one floor house emerged behind a hill. By the quick peek at that building and the noises coming from the inside you knew, it felt like a warm home. 

As you approached the building, you heard a child’s cry. 

Price knocked at the front door and soon after a man with dark bags under his eyes opened them slightly. He was peeking through the crack.

━ Jakob Hausner? ━ The Captain asked with a playful smile under his mustache, his thumbs interlocked with the gear straps over his chest. 

━ Ja, wie kann ich helfen? [ger.: Yes, how can I help?]

━ Can you ask him if he speaks english? ━ John looked over his shoulder towards König, asking for a favor. 

━ Yes, I speak english ━ master of the house answered with a thick accent, before colonel could translate. ━ What do you want? 

He wasn’t trusting at all, well, how could he? You were all strangers at his doorsteps, two of your partners wearing scary looking masks. But it all had a purpose - they were supposed to look… intimidating, yes? 

A loud wailing made their ears hurt, it was that damn baby again. Jakob sighed loudly, his shoulder collapsing as he opened the doors a little bit more.

━ We just want to talk about the company you were working for. ━ Price continued talking. 

━ About them again? ━ Mr. Hausner frowned his eyebrows and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Poor man was exhausted apparently. ━ Okay, okay, ja, come in. 

The man let you all inside, however König told his soldiers to have a look outside the plot - to make sure it’s safe here and you’re not being watched. Poor Jakob wasn’t even fully aware (because of his state) that he let in a group of military people inside of his home.

As soon as you crossed the hallway into the dining room with a big, wooden table, you noticed a struggling toddler in a children’s chair. The girl was crying, her face red from the tantrum. 

━ I’m sorry, it’s just my daughter, she… she doesn’t want to eat her–. Lina, bitte. [ger.: Lina, please.]

Being a parent. Must be tough, huh?

Not when you were forced to babysit your siblings or cousins since you were a teenager. 

━ She’s not hungry. ━ You noticed the way the little girl pushed her plate away and how she tried to climb out of the seat. Christ, that man really had to be exhausted. ━ Can I?

You took a few slow and calm steps towards the sitting child - a warm smile painted over your face. Even your boyfriend Ghost was slightly… surprised? Seeing you drop the apathetic shell, then becoming more warm and gentle towards the little girl.

━ She’s our medic ━ your Captain explained to the worried father ━ let her take the kid and we’ll have a talk. In peace. 

Mr. Hausner let you take care of his unsettled daughter, so they could have a conversation about his former employers. You took the girl out of her chair and placed her over your left hip, pushing it outward. 

━ Come, Lina ━ you addressed the girl by her name, even though she probably couldn’t understand what you were saying ━ let’s leave the stinky men alone, ja?

You left the dining room and entered the seemingly endless garden behind the house. Since you took that girl in your hands she already began to calm down, perhaps a woman's touch was all she needed? 

“Where was your mother? Was she at work working a long shift? Did something happen to her? Did the bad men–” your thoughts seemed to take a rather pessimistic route, so you had to quickly change it. 

You didn’t know much German. Well, you didn’t know any at all. 

Fuck.

But at that moment you were thanking the heavens that your father watched movies about Hans Kloss or war on a regular basis. You were happy that your father was taught some phrases and somewhere in your subconsciousness he passed them to you.

You sat on the wooden bench somewhere in the garden not far from the building. Then, you placed the child on your lap and began talking to her - mostly in your mother tongue. Then you added some words in German that you knew, like: 

━ Schau, schmetterling! [ger.: Look, a butterfly!] 

Soon you grew more comfortable around the girl named Lina, even though there was a language barrier. Without your knowledge, your legs began to bounce her, pretending she was riding a horse. 

If anyone would point that out later, you would certainly deny it. You, getting soft for a child? No, no, no. 

You were so occupied with entertaining her that you didn’t even notice a looming, black figure in the corner of your eye. Watching the scene from somewhere nearby.

König was standing just next to the doors, leaving against the white plaster on the outside walls. He listened to your attempts to speak German, finding it… adorable? 

Never did he meet a woman in his profession so empathetic and gentle. Especially the one who managed to catch his attention. Let’s be honest, most of them were cold blood murderers and he was a colonel - he couldn’t let himself have such a luxury of having a family. 

Until now.

His imagination began to play a nasty and stupid trick on him - just because he saw you speaking German with a kid. What if it was you to take care of his children? Were your hands usually this delicate? Would you care for him as much?

The tall soldier was intrigued by you and his dreamy stare exposed him for it.

━ Don’t even think about it. ━ Ghost voice snapped him back to the reality. The British soldier emerged from the building the same way the colonel did after the conversation came to an end with Mr. Hausner.

Simon Riley wasn’t a fool. He noticed all the little peaks at his girlfriend other soldiers usually would take, she was in fact a pretty thing. So it didn’t take much to notice that the tall guy from KorTac took a liking of you. Too much liking in Ghost’s opinion. 

━ Verzeihung [ger.: Excuse me] ━ König apologized, flustered slightly by obviousness of the situation. He instantly understood the reference. ━ didn’t know she was… taken. 

━ Yeah ━ British lieutenant scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark irises didn’t even dare to stare at him. His eyes were on you ━ she’s very much taken. 

There was a dead silence between the two of them - for a short moment, before Ghost gave you a heads up. 

━ Y/C, we’re moving. 

The rough and firm tone of Ghost’s voice made you snap back into reality. You were in the middle of something, right? Yet, you almost jumped on that little bench painted in floral patterns. 

━ Coming, lieutenant. ━ You declared quickly, before putting the little girl over your hip again and heading inside of her home. 

Ghost was a few steps ahead and so you had to pass the massive figure of König to go inside again. You pressed the child’s head into your cleavage as she was a little scared of colonel’s hood. 

Well, you would be too, if you saw his cold stare in the middle of the night from under that veil, right?

━ Don’t worry, he just looks scary. He won’t bite. Isn’t that right, sir? ━ You sent him a polite smile as you tried to comfort the petrified girl. Your hand caressing her golden locks.

But he was speechless at the moment. He couldn’t form a simple sentence. A fucking grown ass man. “So fucking pathetic”, he thought to himself. Your lips twisting into a wide smile for him. It wouldn’t be easy for him to erase that sight from his memory. König would have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking of you.

A/N: ♪ Two big guys and they grab on my thighs ♪

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day.

***

The door slammed shut, making you jump and bump against the edge of the counter that you stood at before the sink, finishing up a few stray dishes that had been left from the night before. You turned to see Simon standing there in the doorway, stiff as a goddamn board with only his eyes clocking the room to find you and locking on to your form like a beast ready to pounce.

"Pants off...now," he demanded, his voice metered and firm as he removed the mask covering his features.

"Well, hello to you too," you chuckled as you crossed your arms over your chest, but he was not in a picking mood. "What's up?"

He took a calming breath; it wasn't your fault his mood had been soured today and he didn't need to upset the only person that could turn this all around. "It's been a fuckin' day, luv. Need something to take the edge off before I send someone to the goddamn morgue. So, again, pants off…please."

This wasn't the first time you'd encountered this specific Simon before; his short, gruff sentences were an obvious indication that he has had an absolutely rotten fucking day and was completely over it already. And because this wasn't your first time you knew what he wanted…

…what he needed to let all that stress go.

Slowly you undid the button of your pants, pulling down the zipper before slipping your hands inside the waistband and sliding your jeans down off your legs. Once you removed them from around your ankles you tossed them to the side and stood there in your panties and tank top, waiting for him to give you your next instruction. Like a flash he moved in and was now on top of you, enveloping you entirely with his hulking form as it fit against your curves until your backside was being indented by the edge of the countertop.

Hot, hungry lips scrambled to aggressively connect with your own, fighting for dominance as the back and forth of the dance continued with each passing second. He let himself go to become consumed by you, unable to find a pause to take a breath as he all but devoured you whole until there was nothing left in his mind but you.

Those large hands with their thick, rough digits pawed desperately at the warm, soft skin of your bare hips, grasping as much meat between them that they could hold. All those curves, all the smooth, voluptuous flesh ready to be caressed, it was enough to drive him insane; how fucking lucky he was to have it all at his disposal now to help cure his bad day?

God you were a fucking feast and he was starving.

The connection between your lips was broken sloppily and with haste, a sting of spittle connecting your lips sparkling in the light as he pulled away. Simon hurriedly grabbed the hem of your tank top and ripped it up and over your head, letting your breasts drop and jiggle with the reverb as they were set from their cage.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath with a sharp inhale through his teeth as he latched those lips back on to your own. "That's a sight that could do me in."

On the move he leaned his tall head lower as those raw lips began to explore further down along the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and finally coming to those beautiful breasts which he immediately sucked into his mouth. The suction was intense as he used the very tip of his tongue to circle those perky rosebuds until he felt them stiffen against the roof of his mouth and your body twitch from the tingly feeling it gave off that shot up your spine.

Whatever you were doing before this felt like a distant memory as his attention grew your arousal so that your body responded in kind to him just the way he wanted. He switched sides on your chest, not wanting the first breasts twin on the other side to get left out. Simon only moved on after your hips began to grind against the bulge growing at the front of his pants.

His lips continued down the line of your body as he knelt to the ground before you, ready to put everything into worshiping that sweet pussy he loved so goddamn much. Over your sternum and stomach all the way down to your pelvis his lips caressed until they reached a roadblock covering those last few inches to his destination. That was quickly dealt with as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your panties to slide them down your thighs, letting his lips keep going all the way to the mound of your sex; only then did he pause.

"Spread," he demanded again as his hands tapped at your inner thighs, his message being short and sweet and to the point. "I'm fuckin' endin' this day on a high note. I'm not stopping' till I'm on the goddamn verge of death by suffocation, so don't ya even try to move, luv."

You widened your stance with the guidance of his hands until there was enough space to allow his face to fit between them. Hands back on your hips, holding them as handlebars so that he could incline his face against your cunt he dove in.

Your petals were so warm, so silky, and it felt good on his mouth as he kissed that other lovely set of lips a few times, sighing as he was finally able to relax in his favorite place.

"Here we go, baby," Simon breathed into you as he extended his tongue and drug it over the slit between your legs until he had split you open, rubbing the muscle through the small accumulation of your juices to coat his tongue.

Goddamn were you sweet tonight. "Mmmm mmmm," his deep, garbled hum vibrated deliciously on your clit as the taste of you filled Simon's mouth and tingled on his taste buds.

…And then he began to move the pad of his tongue…

Over and over his tongue engaged your core. "Fuck, Simon," his name fell from your lips as his tongue began to make you writhe against his face.

"Again," he said in that gruff growl as he pulled from your for only a second.

You knew exactly what he meant for you to do. "Simon," his name was beautifully moaned from you once more as he focused all his efforts on that small bead of nerve endings at the top innermost part of your cunt.

The sound of your soft, breathy voice calling out to him made the previously enraged Lieutenant fucking crack at the seams and any trace of that rage-inducing day was suddenly completely gone; replaced by a fire to make good on his promise to desperately lap at you for as long as it took until his skin was infused with your scent and he was fully satisfied.

He moved up even tighter against your core, locking on so that even as you bucked there was no chance he would fall off until he was good and fucking ready to let you go. Shit he was pushing you to the limit of what you could take, your body aching wildly as his strike hit precise and deliberate every time until you were right at the cusp of your pleasure. God, his pace was relentless.

Overwhelmed with the intense gathering of warmth in your belly, your toes began to curl together over top of the floor as you scrambled to keep your breathing steady through the growing euphoria. How were you supposed to force yourself to intake air when all your functioning had been redirected straight to that pleasure sensor in your brain?

That thought had little time to gain traction as that feeling of impending pleasure had reached its peak.

Suddenly you were spilling violently, crying out as you tried to move him from you, but Simon was in this till the end. He kept at it until you had ridden it out to completion and finally settled, your heavy panting becoming softer and more drawn out.

You thought that that was it; the finale had been reached and all was good right? You could not have been more wrong. A wet flash of a smirk crossed his lips as he stood back up before you.

Without even a verbal warning his hands were suddenly digging into your sides as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom where he sat you on the surface of the bed. Reaching with one of his hands over his shoulders he gripped the fabric of his shirt in his grasp and pulled until it came off over the top of his head, throwing the useless article to the floor before stalking towards the bed.

"On ya knees baby," he grunted as he hurriedly laid down on his back beside you further up towards the head of the bed. "Over my face. Now."

Simon pulled at your arm until you moved, his need to be smothered between your thighs causing him to rush. Grabbing on to the headboard for leverage you knelt over his head.

Your petals glistened with the sticky cum and saliva mixture he had just created as he ate his first course, but there was still plenty to get lost in and he was more than ready to dive back into it.

Greedy hands rubbed up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. "Sit," he commanded and you bent your legs until you were just above his nose, but that wasn't good enough; he didn't need you being gentle, he needed you to give him what he wanted - to let him drown in you.

"No hoverin', I said sit," he hissed as he quickly moved his hands to your hips and wrenched them down so that you had no choice but to lower yourself until your pussy was completely flush against his face like a chair.

His breath hitched not just from the instant lack of available oxygen, but because the feeling of being completely enveloped by your pussy was akin to being high; he was on cloud fucking nine just suffocating against you.

The headboard thumped against the wall from your arms shaking as full contact was made again along your core after just having come. The tears stung your eyes, your over-stimulated clit so sensitive it almost hurt. His grip on your hips didn't let up, keeping the pressure tight so that there was no chance of escape, even though you wriggled in search to ease up a little.

There was still some fight left in you; that simply wouldn't fucking do as it meant he hadn't finished the job and he was anything but thorough. Simon needed you completely spent and too exhausted to even move a goddamn inch.

"I-I can't…I can't," you pleaded with him as you squirmed over top of his stark features like anything you said would persuade him to give up.

You could hear his voice in your head, you knew what he'd say if he could talk at that moment. "Oh yes you can sweetheart. You're gonna fuckin' take it all for me."

I mean look at that big boy, he could eat and that meant all types of meals, you included most of all.

As if a nonverbal response to your mewling, his tongue picked up in speed, stroking wildly against your clit with reckless abandonment. Your fingernails were digging into the wood of the headboard, thighs vibrating against Simon's ears as each movement of that deadly appendage brought you closer and closer to your second harsh release.

"Bastard," you whined.

He gave your hips a hard squeeze. Call me what you like baby, he thought, you're still gonna fuckin' come as many times as I want.

So warm, so wet, so soft, gasping for air... He was in heaven.

Unconsciously your hips began rocking along with the thrusts of his tongue, riding him just as he worked and that familiar feeling in your stomach returned. Seconds passed…or was it minutes? Hours? Time seemed to pass differently when he was eating you out.

All of a sudden you stopped rocking, pressing your pussy as hard as you could against his face, and with a few more hard strokes you cried out as you came violently, slamming into the headboard as your thighs clamped down around Simon's ears.

"S-s-shit…" you whimpered as you ground out the last drop of your ecstasy until Simon tapped your thigh to be set free.

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed bright red, you fell down on the bed beside him, unable to move a muscle save for your head. Turning your face towards him you were met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes, face absolutely drenched from eyebrows to chin in a thin layer of your cum.

He reached out to you, his palm cupping over the entirety of your cheek. "You did so fuckin' good for me sweetheart," he praised, thumb rubbing over the supple skin there. "So fuckin' good that I think ya deserve a break…but I don't think I'm finished quite yet."

"Oh?" you questioned back through heavy breaths, eyes wide. More?

He chuckled in that deep vibrato as he rolled over to kiss your forehead. "Well… ya see… it was a really fuckin' bad day."

You hadn't planned on dying today, but if Simon got his way he would be setting up your funeral later tonight, but there were worse ways to go…right?

just read “forbidden fruit” and i’m OBSESSED. Also, it got me thinking on this, hear me out; Ghost notices the way König looks at you after that little encounter, so AND IF THIS IS TOO MUCH PLA IGNORE IT for some reason Kortac and TF141 have to share base, meaning König sleeps on the bedroom next to yours and Ghosts and hears how you absolutely get railed into next dimension bc poor baby Ghost was jealous someone else was looking at his girl the wrong way, so he makes sure to cover you in marks to let everyone know you’re very much taken and YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM THERE BUT LIKE I SAID IGNORE IT IF YOURE NOT COMFORTABLE WRITING NSFW

I'M OBSESSED TOO ABOUT THIS SCENARIO!

✧°. Boyfriend!Ghost would absoluetly make sure other people from your surrounding know you're his girl. He'd leave purple hickeys in a visible place and while normally it would be probably your neck, this time (when you're wearing a military clothes, covering your skin) Ghost would go as far as leaving his marks behind your ear or on your jawline.

✧°. Which, of course, was a subjects of your latest argument, because it was vulgar to mark your lover in such an obvious way. But silently you loved it, let's be honest.

✧°. If you happened to share some accommodations with KorTac and SOMEHOW were placed on the other side of König's room ─ Ghost would absolutely abuse that coincidence.

✧°. He'd be in a worse mood, acting more grumpy than usual, but when you two finally happened to get comfy in your shared room (or just his private quarters), Ghost would be all over you ─ almost tearing your clothes off, kissing so desperatly, his tongue inviding your pretty mouth.

✧°. Boyfriend!Ghost would fuck the daylights out of you on the creaking bed, making sure you're not holding back any noises. Where normally he wants to keep all of you to himself, during that mission he had a point to make.

✧°. While you and lieutenant were sharing an intimate moment, König would lie in a bed too small for him, listening to the awfully salacious noises coming from the other side of the wall. Mostly of you.

✧°. Austrian soldier tried to ignore your little whimpers and sweet moans, but just couldn't. He sneaked one of his palms under his cargo pants and below the boxers. König would fuck his fist, bucking his hips upwards, thinking of you bouncing on his fat cock. He knew he shouldn't be imagining this, like at all. But your sweet gaze haunted him when he closed his blue eyes. He would take such a good care of you. <3

✧°. König would imagine that you were with him that night, that it was him who made you whimper from pleasure. Colonel would thrust into his own hand until he came hard, knowing he should be more careful next time when around you. The thought alone about you made him a perv.

What are you reading?? Part 2

A/N: So... It blew up, I didn't expect that to happen. And most of you wanted a part 2, so I made a part 2. You can find part one here.

CW: Sexual stuff. I don't know what I'm doing

Summary: After the boys find you reading a smut book, they take it upon themselves to tease you. This is the result of the boys teasing you.

After your meeting with Price your interaction with Johnny had sort of been forgotten. You still keep your book close as you walk back to your room for the evening, intent on getting some rest after the long day.

When you step into your room, you are surprised to see Johnny sitting on your bed.

"Hey, this is my room, Johnny."

Johnny hums. "I know." He motions you over and you hesitantly sit next to him. "Still got that book hey?" He snatches it from you.

"Johnny! Give my book back!"

You fight to grab it, pushing him against the bed and reaching for it. He chuckles, having you so close.

"You cheeky little-"

Johnny slips out from under you with the book. "Sorry sweetheart." He grins, his hand coming down and slapping you on the ass, making you gasp in surprise. "You've had your turn with this."

You turn around just as the door closes but you aren't sure what the hell to do. You just stare, blush forming across your face and your heart melts.

Johnny is actually just teasing you, I literally had no endgame for his... I tried to write one though

It was late when you finish your paperwork. You're tired and sore from sitting down all day despite how comfortable your office chairs are.

Finally, you signed the last piece of paper and stood, stretching out your sore muscles.

Now... Time to go try and get your book back from Price. Wouldn't that be a lecture? You hadn't forgotten what he'd said earlier, it made your heart pound in your chest.

You got to his office and knocked on the door. "Captain? Can I come in?"

"It's open."

You opened the door and slipped inside, Price had a cigar in his mouth and was idly sitting there relaxing.

"I uh... I finished my paperwork and I'd like my book back."

Price took a long drag of his cigar and looked at you. He motions you over, so you came. Price contemplates it. "Did you work hard Princess?"

Your insides drop.

"Yes Captain, I finished my paperwork." You try to ignore it but the things it did to you makes you feel utterly filthy.

John's free hand reaches your hip and strokes it with his thumb. He motions you down on his lap. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest. You maneuver to straddle him, all the heat in your stomach plunging further.

Price continues to rub your hip.

"Can't decide if you've been a good girl or not today, reading all those... Things."

You suddenly feel very inclined to make things better. Your heart leaps, leaning in and kissing his neck. "Captain." It comes out strained, trying to keep your breathing together.

Price continues to smoke his cigar as you kiss up his throat and down his collar.

He pulls you back gently and hums. "You've been a very good girl today, we all make mistakes darlin'"

"You've made daddy very happy. I think you deserve a reward."

You whine, that finally doing it too you. "Price!" You bury your head in his neck, hips pivoting and grinding against his thigh.

"Good girl. Tell me what you want sweetheart."

Your breaths come out jagged as you slide down to your knees and tug at his belt. Price chuckles.

He presses out his cigar and undoes his belt for you. You pry open his zipper and kiss along his stomach. Price's hand strokes the back of your head when you pull out his cock.

"That's it," he coos. "take daddy's cock like a good girl."

You whine, kissing his length and taking him in your mouth. His hand curls in your hair, letting you have a moment before gently guiding you down on his length.

He groans deeply, watching you choke when you reach his base. "There you go, such a good girl for daddy."

You come back up, choking on spit. He lights up another cigar while you bob your head down the Captain's length. Price watches you, tangling his fingers in your hair.

He brought you back down all the way and kept you there, watching you choke and swallow harshly. He grins and takes another drag.

Price did not let you leave his office until you had fully earned the rights to your book back in full.

I don't trust myself to write smut guys, I'm sorry if it's weird

Gaz stayed close to your ear as you read. Word after word. You read about each scene, the ideas of the lewd acts leaving an imprint on you.

Gaz's warm hands trailed down your collarbone. You tried to read, your breathing getting heavy.

"And he- Kyle-!"

Kyle kissed your lobe, hands sinking under your shirt. You whined for the touch but Gaz wasn't going to have it. "Keep reading sweetheart."

"Not like this-"

He pinches and twists your nipples. "Read it sweetheart." His tone remains smooth as honey as delicate as a flower, but his actions are commanding, telling you to read.

You gulp and keep reading, even as his hands groped and play, making your insides hurt so good.

You whimpered, shuddering when you flipped the page. Gaz's hands trailed back up your shirt and he rounded the couch. Finally you could see his handsome face in front of you.

"Kyle-"

"I doubt my name is in that book." He kneels in front of you, and you can see the bulge in his pants.

He pushes your knees apart gently with his hands and slowly pulls off your pants. You keep reading, your voice growing shaky and stumbling over words In anticipation of his next move.

Your bottom half completely exposed, Kyle moved forward, sinking two fingers into your cunt.

You gasped and moaned.

"Oh please, please Kyle-"

He slaps you gently, removing his fingers.

Tears start to fill your eyes, trying to read. Just two more pages, just two more pages. But you didn't want it to end.

You recapture your thoughts as much as you can and continue. As you as you start, so does Kyle, sinking in and pressing his tongue between your legs.

You jump, shifting your hips in excitement. Kyle keeps you steady, working you unwound so effortlessly.

You gasp and pant through your words, shaking and moaning loudly. Your thoughts begin to slur together with each stroke of his tongue.

His fingers dip into your entrance again, stretching you nicely around him while his tongue teases your clit with fast flicks.

You manage to finish the chapter and toss the book on the couch. You throw your head back and moan, pressing your hands through Kyle's hair.

"Kyle- more, more, more!!" He brings you undone so effortlessly. You rake your fingers over his scalp, canting your hips up against him in pleasure.

Kyle hums happily, sucking your clit. "Good job sweetheart." He mutters.

Everything feels hot and dizzy when you reach your limit, spasming and coming.

You pant, head heavy and empty. He laps at your spend and kisses your clit, making you jerk your hips.

Kyle kisses up your stomach. "You did so well for me sweetheart." He whispers. "Good girl."

You whimper when he leans over you, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

"Now, get comfortable. If you don't come a second time before they get back, I'll let them watch."

You slip into Ghost's room, the darkness making your skin crawl. The barren walls and the simple bed in the corner.

You reach the middle of the room and Ghost was back behind you, guiding you to the wall and pressing himself up against you.

"Should have known you'd come here for more."

His hand strokes your throat, pulling your head back and locking his thumb and forefinger into the sensitive spots under your jaw.

You moan, hands curling into fists against the cold wall.

"Ghost..." You whimper.

He grunts, rutting his hips down against you, holding you perfectly still like a doll. You gasp and fight for air in your lungs, your insides betraying how you should be feeling.

"You into this shit?" He asks, voice raspy against your ear.

"Please, please Ghost-"

He growls and presses you closer to the wall, his hand grabs your hip and arches your back.

Tears fill your eyes and you pull at his hand.

He scoffs. "You are into this shit."

He keeps you pressed against the wall though his hands leave you. You hear his belt buckle click and slide and it makes your heart race.

When he's ready he grabs your arm and turns you around. You look up at him, he grabs your shoulder and forces you down onto your knees.

"Ghost-"

"Shush. I didn't ask you to talk."

Tears slip down your cheeks, you inch closer and take his hard cock in your hand.

He watches you with his usual disapproving look as you take him into your mouth. You barely get halfway before you start to choke.

Ghost grabs the back of your head and forces you down. You choke and grab his thighs for support, more tears in your eyes.

He grunts. "You like this don't you? You and your weird fuckin' books."

You can't reply, trying to take Ghost as best you could.

He tugs your hair, rocking his hips against you. His hands slide down from your hair to your jaw. He cups your jaw and your neck, keeping you still while he uses you.

He went until your jaw was sore and all you could do was moan lazily.

"Fucking whore." He grunts, dragging the saliva on his cock over your bottom lip.

He forced you back up against the wall and wastes no time fingering you. It's not consistent or long, his fingers gone before you can enjoy it. He lines up his cock and is shoving into you. His girth stretches you wide and has you a moaning, melting mess. He shoves you further into the wall and your back arches. It's sloppy and his cock ruins your insides, your thoughts slurring until there was nothing left.

He kept his hand locked on your throat, watching you lose yourself with every thrust.

"Fuck-" he pounds into you, watching you writhe and whimper under him. He stretches you out and fucks you drunk on him.

And he was right, by the end of the night the story you'd read barely compared.

Alejandro came between your legs and stroked your chin. "Quieres tanto esto, ¿verdad? Quieres ser una puta sólo para nosotros."

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Rodolfo moves you out of your seat and forces you down gently onto the floor. You watch Alejandro stand over you, forced down on your hands and knees when Rodolfo leans over you.

He presses his chest to your back, hands groping your chest.

Alejandro undoes his belt and strokes your chin. It's all too much, watching Alejandro and feeling Rodolfo undoing his own gear and pulling down your pants.

"Se ve tan hermoso para nosotros como este." Rodolfo whispers in your ear.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Say the word amor, and we're all yours." Alejandro purred.

"Please... Please, yes." You whimper.

Rodolfo's hand pulls down your underwear, pushing two fingers into your entrance. You gasp and moan, arching into it.

Alejandro grabs your chin firmly and presses his cock to your lips. Rodolfo makes you moan, Alejandro fitting his thick girth down your throat.

Tears fill your eyes. Alejandro guides you along his cock while Rodolfo peppers your back in soft kisses, stretching you out nicely.

He is gentle with you, whispering sweet words in your ear and playfully squeezing your breasts.

Alejandro feels heat pool in his stomach watching his best friend treat you like that. "Mm, you gonna let Rodolfo ruin you?? You gonna let him use you amor?"

Your knees shake, hands balling into fists, hungry and eager.

Rodolfo retracts his fingers and lines up to you. He shares a glance with Alejandro before pushing in. It stretches and burns, his girth much thicker than you expected. And it makes you choke down on Alejandro.

They rock you back and forth. The soft front Rodolfo had put up soon gone as he pounds at an unholy pace deep inside of you.

"Fuck yes, letting us ruin you like this." Rodolfo growled. He fit you so nicely inside your walls. You come faster than you'd expected, clenching around Rodolfo and whimpering as you come.

It all went so fast, at some point Rodolfo had picked you up in his arms like you weighed nothing and slammed you down on the desk. Alejandro purring with each rough stroke, Rodolfo rocking you against the desk.

"Mira lo que le has hecho a Alejandro, puta."

Alejandro is a mess, movements frantic and desperate. He has a tight hold on your throat when he finishes, head falling back as he slows.

Rodolfo holds out, making you gasp and moan loudly before he finishes soon after, leaving you a mess. Feeling warm and destroyed.

Alejandro sees the tired hungry glazing over your eyes. He smears the last of his spend across your lips.

"You won't be needing that book back my dear." Alejandro whispers in your ear.

A/N: I don't write smut often, and not for XReaders, but I knew what I was getting into so I did my best to make you a worthy part 2 with the criteria I was comfortable with. It's a bit awkward because it's not a whole fic, but I think it's ok. And I do hope you enjoyed it. Now I'm going to go write something fluffy to reclaim my soul.

The Quiet Ones

Colonel Alejandro Vargas / fem!Reader

Summary:  When Schwalbe‘s assignment in Las Almas draws to a close, Alejandro finally makes a move.

Content:  secret identity, sexual tension, pining, food as a love language, heavy PDA, car sex, grinding, fingering, rough non-penetrative sex

Part: 1 / 2

Word Count:  7.5k (70% pining, 30% pure filth)

Notes:  My dear anon, every day we stray further from salvation and this idea only sped up the process. I loved it. Thank you for requesting this beautiful man. I feel like Alejandro would be the type to spoil his partner all the time, just because he can and loves to see them happy. I've been writing away at this the whole week whenever I had a little free time at night, I hope you like it! 🤍

↳ callsign for the reader is Schwalbe (swallow, like the bird, German)

"Oh my fucking god," she whispered, eyes glued to the tall and handsome man on the other side of the airstrip. 

The Colonel wore dark green today, with a heavy tactical vest and combat boots that were caked all over with mud. His sunglasses perched on top of his head, black hair slicked back a little but the late time of day and humidity had done a marvellous job of bringing back some natural curl. He looked good. More than good. Fine. Hot. Ready to eat. 

And he was coming their way, fast. 

Schwalbe hastily slid on some sunglasses, happy that the blue mask over her mouth and nose would do the trick and conceal most of her undoubtedly blushing face. Alejandro was talking rapidly to Rodolfo over the radio as he approached, Spanish smooth and sexy and dear lord she was so fucked. 

The last time she'd seen the Colonel had been during an emergency evac of the 141 boys and some Los Vaqueros soldiers, with her flying the helicopter. Fun times. Not a situation where one could properly appreciate the sex appeal of a man who seemed to age like fine wine. And was that-

Before she had any opportunity to embarrass herself, Lieutenant Ghost stepped forward and the two men shook hands firmly. There was true familiarity there, the kind that you can only get from being shot at together and coming out the other end more or less in one piece. 

"My favourite fantasma, back to haunt me, eh?"

"More like savin' your ass as usual," Ghost replied drily.

Alejandro laughed, then turned towards her. 

"And who is this, Lieutenant? Am I doomed to never see the faces of my team these days?" 

He ducked down a little to look into her eyes, obscured as they were from the sunglasses. Their faces were very close for a moment, and she could smell the dust and leather on him before her hand closed around his outstretched one. 

Alejandro was grinning and she smiled back behind the mask, then her gaze flickered to the small patch of beard she'd noticed only moments ago. Right there next to the corner of his mouth was a tiny sliver of silvery grey hair, interspersing the otherwise tidily trimmed black beard. 

Now that his lopsided smirk morphed into a confused but polite smile at her silence, the grey was less noticeable.

"Sergeant Major Schwalbe," she said softly, mouth dry.

"Welcome to Las Almas," the dark-haired man said, then released her and straightened back up. Mourning even that innocent contact, Schwalbe followed the two men to the SUV waiting for them. The aircon inside was bliss, and she released a tiny breath of tension as her back hit the soft leather of the backseat and eased her tense muscles.

Las Almas was a big deal, being assigned here repeatedly meant that she was considered to be among the best and most reliable. Schwalbe tried not to let it get to her head, but the spark of pride in her chest helped with the usual anxiety of being thrust into new places.

Lost in thought, she stared out of the tinted window, watching the city move by quickly. Children ran along sidewalks, and an elderly man with an impressive moustache sold divine-smelling street food that had her stomach cramping tightly as they rolled past. 

Schwalbe glanced at the two men in front, who'd been holding quiet conversation the entire time. That in and of itself was highly unusual for Lieutenant Ghost, who most often preferred to observe quietly instead of participate in banter. Perhaps with the exception of Sergeant Soap. He really must be fond of the Colonel-

Dark eyes already watched her in the rearview mirror. Curious and piercing, even as Alejandro continued speaking and driving along like it was nothing. 

Schwalbe felt her face grow hot but knew that there was no way he'd be able to see her stare back behind her gear. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she just couldn't bring herself to take off the sunglasses, especially knowing that she would have to face his intense stare without a barrier of protection if she did. 

And by god, that man was handsome. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, full mouth a straight line and she wondered if she would be able to find more of those charming patches of silvery hair if she had the opportunity to look more closely again.

"Tell me, what does Shwalbee mean?" The Colonel asked suddenly, his pronounciating a little off but infinitely sexy. 

"Schwalbe," she corrected him quietly, smiling behind her mask. As if he could sense it, he smiled a little as well. "It's German. A type of bird, swallow in English, if you've heard of it?"

"Known for flyin' low, 'specially when storms come through," Ghost grunted, arms crossed over his wide chest.

The Colonel snapped his fingers a little in recognition. 

"La golondrina! An old friend of mine has them tattooed on his neck, stands for freedom, no?"

"Among other things," Schwalbe huffed in quiet amusement at his enthusiasm.

"Pretty birds," Alejandro said, winked and then turned his eyes back on the road. And though she knew it was just meant as a throwaway comment since he didn't actually know what she looked like and couldn't compliment her on anything, her stupid heart still fluttered like she was fifteen.

The days and weeks that followed were packed full of meetings revolving around the two different missions that the Los Vaqueros and 141 had a shared interest in. Since Schwalbe was technically only there on a loan from SpecGru, she didn't always have the clearance required to attend in-depth consultations with Laswell and Price over video chat. 

That had bothered her the first one or two times it had happened, but then she'd started to see the upside of it: It gave her more free time to roam the foreign base, sleep in longer or go out later. 

Her own training hours were rather tame in comparison to that of the many soldiers permanently stationed here, and she found joy in driving out into the desert to teach promising new talent how to fly small planes and helicopters under severe pressure (and stay alive with the help of hair raising off-the-books manoeuvres).  

And sometimes, when she was especially lucky, the Colonel would be around the same places that she was. 

He was always surrounded by some of his men, serious when the need called for it, but most often joking or laughing. His eyes crinkled up in the most charming of ways whenever that was the case, easing the severity of his expression. 

Just now, long fingers pushed back a mop of thick black hair and, not for the first time, there was a distinct lack of a wedding ring on Alejandro's hand. Sure, that didn't have to mean much, but it made fantasizing about getting bent in half and ruined by him a tiny bit less shameful.

Schwalbe watched him in secret from a few tables down almost every day, pushing around the food on her plate and listened only half-heartedly to the chatter around her. Ghost was content to eat in silence by her side, and never commented whenever she let out another wistful sigh like the supportive friend he'd slowly grown into over the years.

It didn't stop the Lieutenant from throwing her meaningful and heavy stares every once in a while though.

"I can't," she'd told him only yesterday with a firm shake of the head, and the Englishman had only tilted his head in consideration.

Today, the Colonel kept throwing glances their way, eyebrows drawn together in concentration like he was trying to solve an especially hard riddle. Schwalbe stared back, secure behind her tinted glasses. 

The green alarm clock digits shone back at her with grim determination, hardly ever moving forward. 

4:25 AM. 

Damn it all.

She'd been awake for over half an hour, heart racing after a nightmare that had slipped through her fingers like smoke. The faintest memory of screaming and blood lingered, but Schwalbe wasn't sure if that came from memory or her overactive mind.

Sighing deeply, she sat up and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the other woman sharing their small dorm room. The floor was nice and cool, and she tiptoed out of the door towards the general direction of the kitchen. 

With the base quiet with no one up and about yet, Schwalbe was determined to follow her cravings and stuff herself with at least three chocolate muffins. 

Patting her stomach, she grinned to herself as she turned into the dark room, moved through the stainless steel appliances and countertops and then opened the glorious object of her desires.

The fridge light bathed her in cold blue hues, and she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the dessert shelf.

"Ah, supongo que teníamos la misma idea."

The raspy voice right behind her almost gave her a heart attack. She bumped into the fridge door and almost sent several glass bottles of milk and juice flying, but both Alejandro and Schwalbe barely managed to hold them upright in time.

"E-excuse me?" She stuttered, face aflame at his proximity and her clumsiness.

The Colonel drew his eyebrows together in a frown, his heavy gaze taking in her entire body slowly. Suddenly, the tiny shorts and tank top didn't feel like proper sleeping attire anymore, and Schwalbe fought against the urge to cross her arms in front of her braless chest.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, before muttering something under his breath. The only words she could pick out were 'tourist' and 'kill them' and for the first time ever, Schwalbe felt deeply irritated with the older man. Belong to? What the hell?

"I don't know what you're implying," she said, voice quiet as usual but firm. "But I don't appreciate getting snuck up on in the middle of the night. I think I'll go back to my room now, Colonel. Good night."

Alejandro's eyes widened with every word she spoke, roaming over her face to find... What? A lie? Had she smeared chocolate around her mouth?

Just as Schwalbe pushed past him, clutching another muffin because why not, Alejandro's hand shot out and curled around her bicep, halting her in her tracks. She wasn't quite annoyed enough not to bodily react to him, his calloused fingers so firm and warm on her own skin that it made her heart beat faster.

God, who had given him the right to look this good this early? Alejandro's hair was impossibly soft and hung into his eyes a little, grey sweatpants low on his hips. She swallowed.

"El pájaro sabe cantar," he murmured, voice as warm as his hands now and so smooth that Schwalbe wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you straight away. And excuse me for making assumptions, but it wouldn't be the first time that one of the guys brought back a beautiful woman for the night."

Beautiful-

"What?" Schwalbe asked, completely flabbergasted. The Colonel released her, now that there didn't seem to be any immediate danger that she'd run, and straightened to his full and considerable height. From this close, she could see the small laughter lines around his eyes, and the blue light from the fridge made the grey patch in his beard gleam. 

Dark eyes drank her in hungrily.

"You must confess," he said, grinning. "I had quite the disadvantage here."

What on Earth was he talking abou-

Schwalbe's eyes widened and then her hand flew up and over her face on instinct, obscuring her nose and mouth as she continued to stare at Alejandro.

He frowned, clearly unhappy with her.

How could she have forgotten? She wasn't wearing a mask. 

Sure, sunglasses would have rendered her blind in the darkness, but Schwalbe never left her quarters without the soft piece of cloth. She'd grown so accustomed to it, that it always took her several days while she was on leave to get used to the feeling of a vulnerable face again.

"It's okay," the Colonel said quietly, brushing one hand through his hair. "I will never mention it to anyone if you are uncomfortable with me knowing."

The tiniest hint of sadness had crept into his voice now, and it made her feel bad. Was it really so terrible that he knew what she looked like now? It's not like he was a complete stranger. Ghost had seen her face multiple times, but never had she felt so... raw. Like an exposed wire about to burn through and ignite everything around it.

Slowly, Schwalbe lowered her hand again and chewed on the inside of her cheek. A habit she'd picked up as a child and never been able to drop. 

Alejandro watched the movement with great interest, and at the first taste of blood in her mouth, Schwalbe abruptly stopped. 

"I don't mind," she squeaked, embarrassed. 

The concentrated, almost greedy look was replaced by a grin. Schwalbe wanted to grab his handsome face with both hands and just... squeeze? Pull him closer until they kissed? Climb him like a tree? All of it felt very tempting, the longer the darkness in his gaze ate her up whole.

"Good, because I don't think I would have been able to forget. Anyway, what are you doing up this early, pequeña ave?" His gaze dropped to the chocolate muffin in her hand, and he frowned deeply. 

Feeling oddly defensive over her choices, she straightened her shoulders and tried not to squirm too much under the interested tilt of his head. 

If she didn't know better, Schwalbe would say that the Colonel was checking her out. Impossible. Right? He was Alejandro Vargas, not some wet-behind-the-ears recruit, eager to have a go in an empty barrack. Right? 

Although, it's not like she wouldn't have thrown herself at him right here on this cold kitchen floor if he'd asked. Did that make her into the newbie with an appetite for superiors or something? What a strange thought.

"I'm indulging in my cravings, Colonel," she said. Some of them, anyway. "And these are actually pretty good."

His eyes had dropped to her mouth for a split second, and she smiled, unsure about the ever-deepening frown.

"That's not food," he growled, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand. "Just some trash from the grocery shop that will leave you addicted to sugar at ungodly hours of the night."

"I couldn't sleep," she said stubbornly, scowling now.

"Because you're addicted to refined sugar."

"What? That's not even true!" Schwalbe laughed, finally putting her muffin on the countertop and crossing her arms over her chest. Goosebumps rose along her arms from the slight chill in the air. 

"Every day, you get the sweetest treat that the lunch lady has on offer, and then you eat Ghost's dessert, too. I believe that's the first sign of a problem right there."

Her eyes widened, and Alejandro made a jerky motion with his body like he'd been about to take a step closer and then aborted mid-movement. 

At her laugh, a grin formed on his face. 

The Colonel looked so different like this, up close and relaxed and not surrounded by anyone else demanding his attention for once. Schwalbe wanted to stay here with him, even if it meant having to defend herself against these totally false claims.

She patted her stomach in mock-offence.

"Are you calling me soft, Colonel? Is this some kind of intervention to keep me from going out of shape?" Her quiet voice was teasing, and she tried so very hard to keep the laughter in.

"No," he said, almost a growl in the back of his throat and fuck, that was hot. Alejandro opened his mouth to say more, dark eyes firmly on her face. Just then, the kitchen door swung open and another Los Vaqueros soldier she'd been training the other day sauntered in sleepily, groping for the light switch.

The sudden glare of the harsh light was like a rude awakening to both of them, and Schwalbe hastily turned her back to the young man, before he had a chance to get a good look at her. 

Only now did she realize how close the Colonel and her had been leaning towards each other, how the warm smell of his skin and sleep had lured her into his orbit. The soldier behind them let out a startled gasp and Alejandro glared at him with so much annoyance and squinted eyes, that the poor lad backed out of the still-open kitchen door. 

A rapid stream of Spanish, Schwalbe only caught apologies, followed.

With a sigh, the Colonel pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked back down at her with a serious expression.

"I will take you to Las Almas for some real food, yeah? You can even have some sweet things, but at least they won't come out of a factory then."

Schwalbe tried to swallow back her nerves and rolled her eyes instead. 

"I hope you know that you will be paying since I'm the one perfectly content with my free snacks at base."

Alejandro threw his head back and laughed loudly, then grinned back down at her.

"You didn't think I'd let you pay, did you, guapa?"

As more time passed between that strange encounter in the kitchen and now, Schwalbe started to question if it had ever actually happened at all. 

The only indication that things were a little... different now, was that the Colonel's eyes would find her form almost as much as hers did with him. He'd stare across the yard, or wave from his SUV when he passed, or watch her pull up her mask discreetly to eat.

She knew that he was absolutely swamped with two missions at once, and that everybody always seemed to want something from him at all times of the day, but it still left her a little crestfallen. Their shared assignment was coming up fast, weeks of preparations slotting into place. 

Soon, she'd most likely be stationed elsewhere, and who knew when she'd have the chance to see him again? The thought put such a damper on her mood, that even her trainees started to notice and Ghost kept throwing her more and more glances each day. 

As she stared more or less subtly at the handsome man three tables down, the Lieutenant nudged his chocolate pudding towards her. Not my favorite kind, he'd told her a while ago. I prefer Caramel Fudge.

A dessert was a dessert to Schwalbe, so she happily ate his. 

"He asked for your unredacted file, you know," Ghost grunted, following her gaze. "A little while ago."

She almost dropped her spoon.

"And you're telling me this now? What did you tell him? Did you give it to him?"

Ghost actually looked offended at that. "Obviously not. I told the daft fucker that if he wanted to see your face he should just ask you."

"He doesn't- that's not why he would want to read my file!" She protested, cheeks flushing hotly behind her mask. 

"The unredacted one," Ghost reminded her, eyes rolling as he threw the Colonel another cool look. "He knew about all your previous assignments 'fore we came here, including the last Las Almas job. Bet that's why he asked for you specifically when Price put together some suggestions."

"He never mentioned it."

Ghost shrugged. "I'm not surprised."

Schwalbe glanced over at the Colonel and was pleased to find him staring as well. 

He looked between her and Ghost unhappily, hand clenched on the table as his boys around him laughed and talked, Rodolfo at his side. 

Feeling stupidly brave, reckless and oddly horny all at once, she pushed her mask up much higher than usual, letting it rest over her nose before shovelling another chocolate pudding spoon into her mouth. Grinning, she shot him a thumbs up, and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second, clearly caught by surprise.

Then he grinned back and mouthed not real food at her, which made her giggle and shrug her shoulders, before digging in again.

The next day, Schwalbe declined her dormmates's offer to hit the town with some of the other soldiers, glad to have the room for herself for a little while. She'd just snuggled back into bed with a romantic book and a glass of cheap red wine when an insistent knock sounded at the door.

Thinking that the other woman must have forgotten something on her way out, Schwalbe just called a quiet come in and turned to the next page.

"Am I disturbing you?" The raspy voice of the Colonel asked, and her head shot around to him so quickly, that it was a miracle she didn't crack her neck. 

They stared at each other for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over her spread out form on the bed, then her room. She hastily sat up and pulled her short sleeping shorts down her thighs a little more, chucking the book onto her comforter.

"N-no, not at all," she said, cursing herself for stuttering as soon as his attention was back on her. Alejandro seemed to fill out the room with his mere presence, dark blue shirt clinging tightly to his chest and arms, black army pants snug around his waist and thighs. 

He looked dangerous and capable and so fucking sexy that Schwalbe wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him between her legs, propriety and work ethics be damned.

"I wanted to ask if you're still available tonight," the Colonel said, shifting from one foot to the other but smiling faintly. "Don't think I forgot about our little agreement."

"I-" Schwalbe began, tongue-tied. Yeah, alright. She kind of had lost hope that he'd ever mention their kitchen encounter again. "I'm free tonight. Didn't want to go to the bar."

"Me neither," he shrugged, then pushed his hands into his pockets. "I noticed you didn't come for dinner."

She vaguely gestured to her wine and book set-up. "I was too busy."

"Busy," he echoed, eyebrows drawn, then snatched up the book from beside her and looked it over. "It's not in English!" He complained, and Schwalbe sent up several prayers of thanks over that fact. The two vague people embracing on the cover were mortifying enough.

"It's not." She confirmed, lips pressed together. Then she stood, and pushed him down onto her bed with both hands, until Alejandro sank into her soft mattress and blanket, looking up at her with an unreadable expression, still holding her book. 

Schwalbe swallowed and removed her hands from his shoulders, then took an awkward step back, more aware than ever how exposed her face felt and how much bloody skin her outfit revealed. It would be so easy to slide into his lap right then and there, or push herself between his spread-open legs and-

"I'll get changed," she choked out, hastily grabbing a random assortment of clothes from her small cupboard and disappearing into the bathroom without another look at him. 

"What is it about?" Alejandro called after her, and she could just imagine him turning pages, trying to decipher or recognize words.

"Aliens," she shouted back, splashing her face with cold water and brushing her hair, before changing into fresh underwear for good measure. 

"And what do they do here on Earth?"

There was a definite note of amusement in his voice. Braver, now that she didn't have to face him directly as she answered, Schwalbe bit back a grin.

"One of them falls in love with a human and they start a scandalous affair that has all the alien girls jealous."

She closed her jeans and turned, tying her hair up into a messy high ponytail that would never pass military regulations under normal circumstances. As Schwalbe entered her room again, the Colonel was lounging back on her pillow, idly tracing over random post-it notes she'd stuck into the book, with little comments or exclamation marks. 

When he saw her standing there, he abruptly sat back up.

"You look lovely," he said, serious, then stood and walked past her, holding open the door. Caught off-guard by the remark, Schwalbe hesitated for a moment, chewing her cheek as she glanced at the mask on her nightstand. 

Alejandro said nothing as he watched, and with an internal what the hell, why not, she left the blue cloth lying there and joined him in the empty corridor. His long fingers sprawled out over her lower back for just a moment as he gently turned her down to the left, then they walked to his car in silence, thankfully not passing anyone.

Now that she was up and about, there was a definite pang of hunger in her stomach - and if she was being honest with herself, not only for food. The Colonel looked handsome, beard neatly trimmed with the first signs of grey in stark contrast to the black, eyebrows serious and mouth soft. Jesus Christ, and the smell of him. Clean, like he'd showered before picking her up but also spicy and warm, like a mulled wine in front of a fireplace. 

"Where do you plan on taking me?" She asked, voice softer again, now that there was a chance they could be overheard. He shot her a long glance and an easy smile.

"This little street vendor in town makes the best chalupas you'll ever try. He's been selling on the same corner since I was a little boy, and his granddaughter makes fresh churros and honey-roasted almonds."

"I don't think I ever had chalupa before," she admitted, trying to imitate the pronunciation.

Alejandro opened the passenger door for her and watched her climb in before shutting the door behind her. He rounded the SUV, and Schwalbe wiped her sweaty hands down her jeans, heart racing.

He climbed in as well, then the engine purred to life and they were flying down dirt roads towards the city.

"It's kind of like a taco," he explained, buckling himself in with one hand, then checked if she'd done the same. "But better, trust me."

"And not made in a factory," she teased him gently, and he laughed.

"No, guapa," he chuckled. "Definitely not."

They didn't talk much for the rest of the ride, content to watch the dark landscapes fly by as soft music played from the speakers, occasionally disrupted by static. Schwalbe was highly aware of the Colonel, his proximity and dark eyes that flitted over to her every once in a while. 

He parked them down the street in a parking lot with a gate guard and helped her jump out of the car once more when he'd pulled into their assigned spot.

She wanted to protest that she was more than capable of jumping down herself, but then his eyebrows were drawn together in that concentrated frown once more and his calloused hand closed around her own and she couldn't find it in herself to complain. It's kind of gentlemanly, she reasoned with herself, as Alejandro locked the car and put his hand on her lower back again to steer her in the right direction.

Las Almas was a wild mix of colourful street lights, graffiti, and people. And though the city was and had been plagued by conflict for so long, she found the sandstone houses and crowded streets beautiful, peaceful and alive as they were that night. They blended into the crowds going in and out of tiny bars and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, smells and noise all around.

Schwalbe spotted a few men with weapons down a darker alley, and she saw that Alejandro noticed as well. He shook his head and grabbed her hand, pulling her away with tense shoulders.

She felt sorry for him, for the obvious love and care he felt for a place that others viewed as a lost cause. Gently, she placed her much smaller hand onto his forearm, and the Colonel looked down at her with stormy eyes and a set mouth.

"It's a beautiful night," she reminded him quietly, and he rolled his head over his shoulders a few times before smiling.

"It is," he nodded, then pulled her past some kids playing tag and toward a tiny stall on wheels that housed an ancient-looking grill. Schwalbe vaguely recognized the impressively oiled and twirled moustache from somewhere, as the old street vendor turned towards Alejandro and her. 

The divine smell hit her like a ton of bricks and she was too busy trying to translate the small menu on the cart to notice Alejandro's fond gaze. 

"I can order for you if you would like," he told her gently, and when she nodded gratefully, the two men launching into a familiar sort of conversation. After a few seconds, the Colonel turned back towards her. "Are you vegetarian? Do you want some extra spice?"

"No, meat is fine. And spicy as well."

As he continued to order for them and watched the old man prepare their meals like a hawk, Schwalbe looked up at him, still clutching his hand. Alejandro looked softer here, not surrounded by grey walls and soldiers. The street lanterns bathed him in a pretty glow, and she wanted to listen to him talk in Spanish for hours. A younger woman brought over a tiny paper bag that was already soaked in grease, and Schwalbe grinned as she took it from her.

Alejandro shot her a look. "Some of them are for me."

"We'll see," she teased, as the warm scents of sugar and oil and chocolate wafted up towards them. Alejandro laughed, then dropped her hand to pay the old man, waved off the change under exasperated protest and picked up the container of chalupa for them. 

They ate on a bench nearby, watching people as they went past, some of them more or less drunk and others talking loudly and passionately into phones. It was a nice night, with a cool breeze that brought some relief to the hot humidity that had been plaguing the area for a week now. Alejandro bumped his knee into hers after a while, smiling. 

"And?"

"You didn't exaggerate how good this is," she said around a few bites, and he puffed out his chest in pride. 

"I know," he quirked his lips. Then his face fell a little. "Listen, I- I wanted to ask you something. You don't have to answer me if you think it's inappropriate."

"Okay?" Schwalbe said, fishing out her first churro and biting into it with gusto. "Shoot."

Alejandro watched her lick some grease and sugar off her fingers.

"Are you and Ghost... together? Even just... casually, sometimes?"

She almost choked.

"The Lieutenant and me? No!" Schwalbe laughed, genuinely perplexed. Was it not very much obvious who she wanted to ride into the sunset here? "We have known each other for a long time, and he has become someone that I can rely on and vice versa. We're friends."

Alejandro murmured something under his breath that sounded a lot like thank god, then one big hand suddenly closed around the back of her neck and the underside of her ponytail, the other cupping the side of her jaw and cheek. The Colonel leaned in close, ducking a little so their faces were on the same level. His nose brushed along hers and dark eyes burned holes into her soul.

Schwalbe's breath caught and then he whispered her name, her actual name, like a prayer and like a question all wrapped in one, waiting. 

Her head swam from his proximity, his warm breath so close to her mouth and then, recklessly, she decided to just do whatever the hell she felt like doing. 

Even if everything went south, she could just refuse another assignment here and never have to see his handsome face again. But at least for this one night, she could and would have him, if his needy expression was any indication to how he felt. 

She pressed her mouth to his, sugar and spice between them.

Alejandro groaned and pulled her closer by the neck, his thumb stroking the front of her throat. Schwalbe dropped the bag of sweet treats and buried her hands into his thick hair, beard scraping against her chin and cheeks as he kissed her more urgently. It was good and hard and everything that she had hoped kissing Alejandro would be like.

A loud whistle and the cheers of a few drunk ladies stumbling past brought them out of it, Schwalbe's breath just as heavy as his. Her face and neck felt hot where he had touched it, and he watched her from behind lowered eyelashes, eyes urgent.

"Want to go for a drink?" He rasped, and Schwalbe shook her head, jumping to her feet and pulling him up by his hand as well. 

"No, I'd rather be alone with you."

Alejandro's eyes widened for a moment, as he let himself be dragged after her, then he laughed.

"Siempre los callados," he murmured darkly in her ear, though it didn't really seem to be directed at her. His thick arm wound around her waist and he pulled her in closer as they crossed the busy street, music from the bars blaring and people shouting along to it. "Back to base then?"

Tempting. The thought made her give in to the urge to kiss him again and so they stumbled against the brick wall of a convenience store that had drawn their shutters down for the night. She felt drunk off of him, his scent and the taste of his mouth and the way his thumbs curled around her hip bones, then slid into the back pockets of her jeans to squeeze her ass firmly.

Panting, they parted again, and this time it was Alejandro who dragged her back to his car so quickly, that she had to jog to keep up with his long strides, laughing. He nodded towards the guy manning the parking lot, showed his ticket and then pulled her into him as they stumbled along, fumbling for his keys. 

Alejandro opened the passenger door for her again, but she just pushed him into the side of the SUV and pulled his head down until she could suck his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned as he crushed her against himself, the hard muscles of his body flexing under hers as he groped for the door handle of the backseat instead. 

One insistent grab on both of her upper thighs was enough, then Alejandro bent down a little and picked her up. Schwalbe hastily closed her legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders as he slammed her door shut with his shoulder and somehow managed to turn them. 

Her back hit the soft leather of the backseat, and Alejandro released her long enough for her to crawl backwards and make some room for his much larger frame. They were both breathing heavily, with him still standing at the open door, clutching the frame of the car. 

"Come here," she demanded, and his eyes were little more than black pools of ink underneath his drawn-together eyebrows, as he leaned his forehead onto his arm for a moment, never letting her out of his sight. Then, as he seemed to have taken her in enough for his liking, he crawled into the open space between her legs, turned around only for a moment to slam the door shut behind them, and plunged the interior into darkness. 

He was onto her between one breath and the next, hands sliding underneath her tanktop and massaging both breasts roughly, mouth sucking into the side of her sensitive neck. Alejandro lowered himself between her legs, forcing them open wider with his muscular body. 

Schwalbe moaned softly, hands in his hair as he rubbed himself against her, the pressure between her legs growing.

Fuck, she had fantasized about this moment for weeks, and now that it was actually happening against all odds, she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.

But Alejandro was much too large for the space, bent in half on top of her, letting out tiny huffs of frustration as she arched back into him desperately, sucking at his lower lip.

Schwalbe pushed him off, and he immediately backed away, breathing harshly and looking worried for a moment, but then she pushed him into a sitting position and climbed into his lap. He groaned as he gripped her waist and ass, pulling her closer and over the hard dick straining against his trousers, grinding them against each other. 

Her breathing came quickly as she ripped off her top, and he fumbled around with the clasp of her bra for only a moment before she was completely exposed to him. Hair wild and tickling her shoulders, she steadied herself on his shoulders for a moment, but then he already latched onto one of her nipples, sliding deeper into the leather seat and pulling her flush against himself. 

Schwalbe squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation, the way his beard scraped along her collarbone and the underside of her boobs as he squeezed them again and sucked harder. 

She said his name softly, and he groaned into her chest, hips jerking up and into her core.

Grinding down into him, she put her cheek on top of his soft hair, letting him take over her body however he wanted. And Alejandro wanted. 

His hands couldn't get enough of her, his mouth sucking bruises into her chest as he dry fucked her through way too many layers of clothing. The stimulation against her clit left her wanting for more, and perhaps impatiently, she started pulling his belt free between them, pushing him back as she worked.

He watched her like a shark, chest heaving as her fingers closed around his hard cock, flushed and drooling with precum already. Alejandro helped her push her jeans down, toying with the lace of her panties as she awkwardly shimmied around, knocking their legs together.

She giggled throughout the whole thing, and he smirked back at her, spread out lazily against the black leather. 

When she was finally able to climb on top of him again, she immediately ground her soaked lace panties against his exposed dick, making him roll his eyes back and hold onto her hips for dear life. 

Schwalbe rolled her hips experimentally, the close contact so much better, the heat between them delicious. His thickness pushed her panties aside eventually, and then it was just soaked skin on skin, his cock dragging through her folds and over her clit and ohmyfuckinggod he was huge. 

"I don't have anything," she whined, desperate as she writhed against him.

"Condoms?" He asked, dazed and when she shook her head no, he thumped his head against the headrest, groaning in frustration. But then he slung his arm across her lower back and pressed her closer, her thighs aching from how far she was being stretched right at her core. 

Alejandro braced his feet on the floor more firmly and then he was rutting up between them with hard, precise thrusts that dragged over her clit and entrance in a way that made her want to forget about safe sex and rules and everything if he could just thrust into her-

He kissed the underside of her jaw, then buried his face into her neck as he pressed himself against her, his free hand gripping the leather behind him to steady himself. The air in the car was hot and smelled like sex and them and Schwalbe's head swam from being stimulated on so many fronts. 

Alejandro whined into her skin softly, and she felt herself gush all over him, beyond caring as she jerked her hips down into his lap as best as she could in his iron grip.

And then his thrusts stopped almost entirely, only one, then a second that were the harshest ones yet, and he spilt between them with a deep groan, sticky semen coating her lower belly and pussy. 

She felt hot all over, tingles shooting up her legs and fingertips as she watched him at the height of his pleasure, hair mussed and undone. 

Her own orgasm wasn't far, she could feel it, but when she gave an impatient twist of her hips Alejandro hissed, overstimulated.

"Hold on," he growled, then sat up straighter so she wasn't pressed down right on top of his dick anymore. His hand snaked down between their mess, middle finger pushing through her and over her slick entrance, easily gliding in.

They both moaned at the way she gripped him, spongy walls greedy. He pumped his finger in and out for a second, watching her face as she clawed her fingers into his shoulders, staring back. Then another finger joined the first, stretching her wider.

Schwalbe could do little more than kneel over him as Alejandro thrust them in a little more harshly, the ball of his palm against her clit until he was as deep as her body would allow. 

He picked up his pace, eyes never leaving her face in the minimal light of the parking lot, tinted windows blocking out the world beyond the two of them. Was there anyone or anything out there that would have mattered as much as this man, anyway? The way he curled his fingers and breathed quickly whenever she whimpered made her want to say no.

A third finger nudged her, and she tensed for a moment. Alejandro was slow and careful with that one, easing it in and out slowly until her pussy was stretched and ready for him. 

His thumb rubbed slow circles over her clit and lower lips, and then his head rolled back with a cocky grin. The hand slid lower until it rested over his thigh, fingers almost entirely removed from her.

"Come on, ride me," he coaxed her in a dark, honeyed voice. His other hand slapped her butt lightly, before grabbing the same cheek and massaging the soft skin there. It made her clench around the tips of his fingers and Alejandro licked his lips, waiting. 

Well, he didn't have to tell her twice. And though her thighs trembled from strain and pressure, Schwalbe was a trained soldier. Once she had set her mind to something, she achieved it. And right now, all she wanted to do was ride the Colonel's finger so well and dirty that he'd start bringing condoms everywhere he went, just in case.

So she did. Flexing her abdomen and thighs she ground down and bounced up so recklessly, that the SUV trembled slightly. She slid her own hands down her stomach, meeting his in the mess between them, before rubbing her clit harshly, fast, like she was just riding one of her toys in the privacy of her home instead of the thick fingers of the man who would put his life into her hands in a couple of days. 

Schwalbe mewled and panted and Alejandro groaned, then leaned forward and sucked her tits again until she shattered around him, leaking all over their fingers and his pants and possibly the expensive leather. Aftershocks wrecked her, but she kept going, uncaring about how loud or wild she must appear until a second, smaller orgasm swept over her like an electric shock.

She collapsed forward and into his chest, and Alejandro gently withdrew his fingers from her, then slung both arms around her shaking body, kissing the side of her head and breathing in the smell of her hair. Her heart raced, thumping in her chest wildly and both their breaths were harsh in the quiet interior of the car. 

"Wanted to do that since the first time I had you sprawled out in my backseat," he growled into her ear, tightening his hold. 

TRANSLATIONS fantasma - ghost Ah, supongo que teníamos la misma idea. - Ah, I guess we had the same idea. El pájaro sabe cantar. - The bird knows how to sing. pequeña ave - little bird guapa - pretty/lovely (used in the beginning stages of a relationship or between friends) Siempre los callados.. - Always the quiet ones.

Want some more? The next part is now online! -> Without Your Mask

I can't believe how much this story grew, but I think this was my favorite piece to write for quite some time now! What do you think? 🖤

My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!

Until next time! - A ✨

Orange and rainbow dividers by @cafekitsune 🧡

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you’d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers. 

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap. 

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that  it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove. 

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours. 

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks. 

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline. 

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars. 

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid. 

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan. 

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his. 

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off. 

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator. 

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely. 

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets. 

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave. 

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion. 

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant. 

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual? 

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you. 

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said. 

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before. 

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And… well. All you ever try to do is impress him. 

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show. 

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl. 

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes. 

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee. 

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit. 

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself. 

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit. 

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass. 

 “Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky. 

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip. 

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight. 

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo. 

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway. 

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying. 

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery. 

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside. 

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic. 

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen. 

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in. 

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go. 

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you. 

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage. 

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud. 

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit. 

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face. 

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean. 

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot. 

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt. 

The minutes afterwards are a blur. 

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought. 

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

What are you reading??

A/N: this was requested by @thicc-plum so I hope y'all enjoy my friend. This took way too long, please let me know if you catch any spelling mistakes.

This includes 141, Alejandro & Rodolfo.

Summary: The reader gets caught reading a smut book and the boys tease the hell out of her.

CW: Brief depictions of sexual interactions, the boys 'teasing' you.

Y'all really want a part 2 huh... I've made you a lil part 2 for y'all.

You were sitting alone at a table in the canteen. Lunch was almost over but you hadn't busied yourself with food. You were sitting in the corner with one of your books in hand. You always loved to read, but this book in particular you had refrained from reading around the others. It was... A different kind of book. Not one with little swordsmen going on long adventures to sweep away their friends from the perils of danger.

It was one with tension, heat. The kind that nestled in your stomach and bubbled up through your chest, making you feel a small, almost tangible piece of the intimacy you read about.

You were engrossed in the book. The atmosphere around you was drowned out as you read.

His hand guided her thigh, skirt riding up past her hip and their eyes met. Their breaths tangled in the warm bedroom, sweat soaking into the sheets-

"What are you reading??"

You gasp and slam your book shut. Your hands tremble as you push it away from you.

Johnny smirks, laughing as he sits down. "Oh you should see your face!"

You scoff. "Not funny Johnny."

Johnny grabs the book from your trembling hands and examines the cover.

"Oh~ what is this risque piece of artwork??" He flips through the pages, reading over some of the sentences. You attempt to grab the book back but Johnny puts his elbow up to keep you away while he reads.

His eyes go wide. "Woah!! That's some descriptive oral- my goodness!"

"Johnny!!" You jump and grab the book back, pulling it to your chest.

Your cheeks go red. "Don't tell the others, please??"

"Depends, can I borrow the book??"

"What are you going to do with it??"

"Read it, obviously. It looks good."

He gives you his signature smirk and you can't help but feel inclined to agree. You grumble under your breath. "whatever, I'll finish and then you can read it. But please return it!!"

Johnny nods. "Of course."

"By the way, you're late for your meeting with Price. You don't want me to tell him you're late because of an innocent little book, would you??"

He grins. "Wouldn't want dear old captain to know you're doing such naughty little things." He squeezes your thigh.

He stands from his chair.

Your cheeks burn redder, but the time manages to take your attention.

You look at your watch and curse. "Don't tell anyone Johnny! I'm serious!!"

He winks at you as he walks away. "You can count on me y/n!"

You grumble and hold your book close. Why on earth would Johnny want to read it?? Was he messing with you?? Or was he actually interested.

You rush out of the canteen and shove your book in your bag. You just hope Johnny wouldn't tell anyone what he saw you reading.

You will admit, yes, you had it coming. You weren't doing your paperwork as it had gotten too boring too quickly and you'd given up for a bit. No one likes doing paperwork. The only ones who didn't complain about it happened to be Price, Ghost, and Gaz. You were none of them.

So you'd kicked up your feet and started to read your book. It was a book you'd gotten on leave and you had kept it fairly secret from the others, it wasn't a book you wanted them to know about.

It was better than doing paperwork. And much more fun.

You must have lost track while reading however, getting too caught up in the endless pages of sticky hot mess.

"He latched onto her neck, sucking a deep hickey into her supple throat. She cried out his name softly into the night, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders-"

There was a knock on the door.

You shot up, scrambling immediately to bring your feet off your desk and straighten up. You slam your book back into the desk drawer.

"Come in!"

Price enters, making you gulp.

"Y/n, we haven't seen you for a while, I wanted to see how things are coming along in here."

He sees the enormous pile of paperwork on your desk and crosses his arms. You immediately look down and away, knowing you would probably be in trouble for this.

He sighs and comes around the corner of the desk, seeing the still open drawer with your book in It. He sees the very risque cover and pulls it out before you can stop him.

"Was this what had your attention??"

You gulp, getting anxious as he flips through the pages.

He hums thoughtfully. He flips the pages and reads through some of the things, his facial expressions changing with each new scenario played out in the book.

He eventually closes it and places it in one of his pockets.

"Captain-"

"Shh, I've seen enough. If this is what you'd like to occupy your time with, very well then."

"I'm sorry."

He tuts. "Be a good girl and finish your paperwork. When you're done, we can discuss this little book of yours."

Your cheeks burn red and you look away.

"Yes Captain."

"That's a good girl."

Price walked off, leaving a heavy feeling in your stomach. You had a weird new motivation to finish your paperwork though.

The evening was quiet and the others were out. It was just you and Gaz on base and you were relishing in the quiet environment. Wrapped up in a blanket, the fireplace crackling a few feet away from you, nothing better.

With a book in hand the world could only be perfect. Your eyes feel tired, even as you read the book that always makes your stomach drop and your emotions rise.

You thought Gaz had gone to bed, so you felt comfortable reading it without the others around. You would always read this book in your room, it never saw the light of day around the guys.

"He whispered low in her ear, nipping at the corner of her lobe. His hands groped down across her collar, fingers tangling in her necklace..."

You continued to read, barely registering the creak of the floorboards. You'd assumed it was the house settling since you hadn't heard the door. Nor had you noticed the shadow bast behind you, soft brown eyes reading each delicately picked word with you.

Suddenly, you feel breathing near your ear. Your heartbeat quickens and your fingers feel tense. The feeling in your stomach growls hotter with each second.

"That seems a little naughty to be reading out here, don't you think sweetheart?"

You jump, nearly screaming as a voice cuts through your concentration, shattering the perfect dream of being wrapped in an embrace just as addictive as the words in your book.

Gaz grins, his hand touching your shoulder and running down your arm to flip the page of the book.

"K-Kyle- I didn't realize you were-"

"Shh. Read it out loud."

Your cheeks turn deep red. "W-what-??"

"Read it out loud to me sweetheart."

Your heart rate quickens and your voice catches in your throat. You want to say yes just as badly as you want to say no. But the way Kyle strokes his thumb over your hand made you willing.

"S-sure..."

Kyle hums. "Good. I think you'll want to finish this next chapter before the others return. You wouldn't want them to hear all the things you've been reading about."

You gulp, but you reluctantly start to read.

You couldn't sleep. So naturally in the early hours of the morning when you figured no one else was awake, you turned to the kitchen for a snack.

You patter through the hallway with your book in hand. You turn on the kitchen light and make yourself some tea to soothe your body, considering you were sore from the lack of sleep.

You sat down at the kitchen table with your tea and opened your book. The cover was bright red with dazzling shiny line work around two figures. One holding the other in a more suggestive manner. Each chapter displaying a new set of characters put through taboo and risque situations. All of them leading to a spicy climax.

Literally.

You sunk into the quiet atmosphere and started to read. Your eyes drowned into the words, hands holding the book firmly.

"He pulled her back, his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. His sneer could almost look evil to anyone who wasn't her. Treated like a doll in his large hands, putting so much trust into his punishments."

You gulp, not realizing how heavy your breathing had gotten until a hand wraps around your throat.

It catches you so off guard you whine. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the sensitive parts under your jaw, making your insides coil and twist.

You bite your lip, hands trembling.

Warm breath whisps over your cheek and Ghost's rough Manchester voice breaks the silence.

"I always knew you were into some weird shit."

His other hand reaches out and takes the book from you, inspecting the cover.

"Ghost-"

His hand tightens on your throat, making you moan quietly.

He hums, flipping through some of the pages.

Your cheeks start to burn, watching out of the corner of your eye as he flips. You can't see his face, you can't gauge his reaction. All you know is his hand is wrapped so nicely around your throat, body hidden in the shadows it makes you feel as small as the girl in the story.

He gets to a certain page and chuckles. "You are into some weird shit."

You grab his wrist, wanting to pry him away and wanting him closer. It feels like a dream how it is all playing out, you are scared you want more.

He places the book down and squeezes your throat, getting another soft moan out of you.

He lets go and chuckles. "I could do better than he can."

It makes you want to pass out. He lets you go and when you turn around he's already walking away. Your arms and legs are shaking but you rush after him, wanting to know what he meant.

He doesn't lock his door when he disappears, and you know all too well it's an invitation into the book you'd just been reading.

(also I love this gif, look at Rodolfo just effortlessly toss that crate- boy you are amazing and I love you)

Look, everyone on base knew you were a little freaky at times. It was no secret to anyone. And it also wasn't a secret you might have a teensy tiny little thing for your colonel and the sergeant major.

That was not the point however.

You had just finished up a long day of training with the Vaqueros. You'd been out all afternoon, which was why you were a bit surprised you were being called into Alejandro and Rodolfo's office for a little chat.

What this chat was about, you weren't entirely sure.

But you finished up your routines and set off for their office.

You knock on the door, hearing Alejandro's voice beckon you in. When you open the door you're greeted by both Alejandro and Rodolfo. Alejandro is sitting while Rodolfo is standing next to him with something in his hands.

You would know that velvet patterned trophy book anywhere.

Your blood turns cold.

"Take a seat y/n." Alejandro smiles at you with that smile. The one that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flop.

You nod and take a seat. "What's this about?"

Rodolfo leans over and places the book in front of you. "Look familiar? It has your name written on the inside cover."

You gulp and nod, your cheeks going a bit red. "Yes sir sergeant, I know the book quite well."

"I think you would, considering how worn it, must get read a lot."

By now Rodolfo has come around to your side, one hand snaking up your arm to your shoulder and squeezing the muscles.

You gulp again.

Alejandro opens the book and flips through the pages. "Such a filthy book y/n, there's only one reason you could read this book so much."

You look away bashfully.

"Does it give you a high, Y/n??"

"N-no colonel!"

Alejandro stands and flips to a certain page. He taps the frame of the book and bends down in front of you, guiding your gaze back to his with his thumb and forefinger.

"Care to explain this then?"

You look down at the page he points to, you know it well. Rereading it over and over. It had crinkled edges from your sweaty fingers and dirt makes from the small traces your nails would leave.

You reread the words you practically knew by heart.

"She cries loudly, voice broken into sobs. The man behind her keeps a firm grip in her hair and tugs her back against him. The second man gazes down into her teary eyes, letting her breathe a fresh breath of air before plunging back into her throat."

Your cheeks were red enough, tainted deeper when you saw the scribbled names of your colonel and sergeant major at the bottom of the page.

Rodolfo's hand curls in your hair, his soft voice near your ear. "Considere esto su castigo por leer tal suciedad."

Your brow wobbles, but you can't run from them, you never could.