#simonghostfluff

Poked

You had barely been in the SAS for a week, and already, you were causing a stir. At first, people underestimated you. You were smaller than most, a little too pretty for the rough world of special forces. But you had grit. And, more importantly, you had a wicked sense of humour.

You’d always had a sharp tongue and a reckless streak, but messing with Ghost, well, that was a whole different game. The moment you stepped into the SAS, it was clear you weren’t like the others. Sure, you were skilled, maybe even more so than a few of your male counterparts, but it wasn’t your combat abilities that made you stand out.

It was your mouth. More specifically, how you used it to get under Ghost’s skin.

Lieutenant Ghost, the infamous, towering man whose reputation made even the toughest soldiers stay in line. He was cold, distant, and never let anyone get too close. But you couldn’t resist poking the bear. You weren’t afraid of him, in fact, you found his brooding nature kind of amusing.

So, naturally, you started catcalling him.

At first, it was subtle. You weren’t dumb, you knew Ghost wasn’t someone to mess with lightly. But something about the way he carried himself, all silent and brooding, just begged you to poke at him. You were like a kid pulling the tail of a lion, waiting to see if it would roar.

"Looking sharp today, Lieutenant!" you'd call out across the training yard, watching as Ghost’s shoulders tensed under his tactical gear. He’d never acknowledge it, at least not at first, but you always knew he heard.

It began as a harmless joke. You spotted him across the base one day, walking with that signature, menacing swagger, and you couldn’t help yourself.

"Looking good, Lieutenant!" you called out, smirking when he stiffened, stopping mid-stride to look over his shoulder at you. "Who knew you could fill out that uniform so well?"

The other soldiers who heard you quickly turned away, not wanting to get involved, but you just grinned wider. Ghost gave you a look, one that said *don’t even think about it, but you could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes. No one had ever talked to him like that.

That only encouraged you more.

Over the next few days, you found every opportunity to throw playful comments his way. Whenever Ghost passed by, you’d lean against the wall, give him an exaggerated once-over, and whistle. "Hey, Ghost! If you ever get tired of being a killing machine, modeling could be your next gig!"

His reaction was always the same, a deep, rumbling growl under his breath and a piercing glare. But the more you did it, the more you noticed the subtle changes in him. His shoulders would tense before you even said anything, as if he was bracing himself for whatever you’d throw his way.

And while you loved riling him up, there was something else beneath the teasing. You weren’t just messing with him for fun, you were intrigued by him. The way he moved, the quiet power he exuded, the way his presence seemed to fill a room without him even trying. There was something about him that made your heart race in a way you didn’t quite understand.

Then, you got bolder. During drills, you’d deliberately station yourself near him, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you "complimented" him.

"Hey, Ghost, ever think of doing a calendar shoot? You know, something for the ladies, maybe a topless spread for June?”

You swore you saw his hand tighten around his gun, but he never said anything. Not yet.

The others found it funny, at least for a while. Some of the younger recruits would stifle their laughs when you catcalled him, while the veterans gave you the side-eye, clearly wondering if you’d lost your mind. Soap warned you a few times, telling you in that thick Scottish accent, “Ghost’s not the kind of bloke you want to push too far, lass.”

But you? You were fearless. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. The more you poked, the more you could feel the tension building between you and Ghost. Every snarky comment, every playful whistle, it was like stretching a rubber band tighter and tighter. You were waiting to see when it would snap.

One day, you pushed it a little too far.

Ghost was at the shooting range, going through his drills, when you wandered over. You leaned against the fence, watching him in action. You couldn’t deny how impressive he was, his movements precise, his focus unbreakable. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from having your fun.

“Damn, Ghost, you’re really showing off today,” you called, your voice carrying over the sound of gunfire.

He didn’t acknowledge you, but you saw his jaw tighten beneath the mask. You smirked, pushing off the fence and walking toward him, your steps deliberately slow, knowing he could hear you coming.

When you got close enough, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Bet you get all the ladies with that aim.”

This time, he paused, lowering his weapon and turning to face you. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours. For a moment, you felt a flicker of nervousness—but you shoved it down. You weren’t about to back off now.

"You’ve been having fun, haven’t you?" he said, his voice low and gravelly. There was no humor in it, but there was something else. Something darker. Something that made the air around you feel suddenly thick.

"Just a little bit," you replied with a grin, though your heart was pounding harder than you’d like to admit.

Ghost stepped closer, and for the first time, you realized just how much bigger he was compared to you. He towered over you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow. But you refused to back down, even as he closed the distance between you.

"You think it’s cute, don’t you?" he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Messing with me."

Your smirk faltered slightly, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But there’s only so far you can push before I push back."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed, your heart now pounding in your chest. You had been playing with fire, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe you were about to get burned.

But instead of stepping away, you lifted your chin, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Ghost’s eyes darkened, and before you knew what was happening, he moved even closer, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall of the range. His hands planted themselves on either side of your head, trapping you there. The closeness of his body was overwhelming, his scent, leather, smoke, something undeniably masculine, filling your senses.

“You should be,” he whispered, his voice so low it sent a thrill through your body.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a second too long. The tension between you was palpable now, electric, and suddenly your teasing didn’t feel so harmless anymore. It felt dangerous. Intense.

But instead of retreating, you felt a surge of boldness. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s scared.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and for a split second, something flashed in them, something raw, something primal. And then, before you could say another word, he moved.

Ghost stared at you for a long moment, the tension between you simmering like a live wire. You could feel the weight of his gaze, dark and dangerous, but just when you thought he might do something, close the gap again, say something that would send a shiver down your spine, he did the opposite. He stepped back.

You blinked in surprise as he straightened, his eyes never leaving yours, but something in his expression had shifted. It wasn’t defeat, but it wasn’t victory either. It was calculated. Measured. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach flip.

Then, without another word, Ghost turned on his heel and walked away, his broad back retreating, leaving you pressed against the wall, heart still hammering in your chest.

For a second, you thought you’d won, that maybe you’d finally gotten under his skin enough to make him back off. But as you watched him go, that strange, unsettling feeling lingered. Something about the way he left, the way he didn’t retaliate, didn’t push back immediately, left you on edge. He wasn’t done.

No, this wasn’t over.

It came to a head one day during a routine briefing. You were sitting in the back of the room, half-listening to the mission plan, your eyes occasionally drifting over to Ghost, who stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest, silent as ever.

That’s when you went too far.

As Captain Price wrapped up the details, you leaned back in your chair and called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, “So, Ghost, when are you going to take me out to dinner? Or are you afraid I’ll outshine you?”

The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes snapped to you, then to Ghost, waiting to see what would happen. Price’s eyebrows shot up, but he wisely said nothing, though you could tell he was biting back a smile. Even Soap looked a little pale, as if he was bracing himself for the fallout.

Ghost didn’t react at first. He just stood there, his face hidden behind his mask, completely unreadable. But you noticed the way his fingers twitched, just a little. His entire body seemed to go still, as if he was debating whether to address your latest insult or let it slide like he had with all the others.

For a moment, you thought maybe you’d gotten away with it. Maybe you’d gone too far, but he’d let it go.

Then, he spoke.

"Stay after the briefing," he said, his voice low and calm, but there was something in it, something dark that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed, your bravado faltering just a bit. But you were committed now. You couldn’t back down in front of everyone. So, you flashed a cocky grin and shrugged. “Sure thing, Lieutenant.”

The briefing wrapped up, and the room emptied out, the others giving you quick glances on their way out, as if they were watching someone about to walk into the lion’s den. Even Soap gave you a sympathetic look before slipping through the door.

And then it was just you and Ghost.

The door clicked shut behind the last soldier, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room. Ghost hadn’t moved from his spot at the front, his eyes still fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and unrelenting, as if he was sizing you up, deciding exactly what to do with you.

You stood up slowly, trying to maintain your usual confidence. “So, what’s this about, Ghost? Gonna tell me off for embarrassing you in front of the boys?”

He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. You felt your pulse quicken, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

Finally, he moved.

In two strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with that imposing frame. He didn’t touch you, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to make you feel like you were pinned to the spot.

“You’ve been having fun, haven’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You swallowed hard, your bravado crumbling slightly under the intensity of his gaze. But you weren’t about to let him see you back down. “Maybe I have. Didn’t think you minded.”

Ghost tilted his head, studying you. “Is that what you think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, he took another step closer, backing you up against the wall. His hands planted themselves on either side of you, trapping you in place. The closeness of him was overwhelming, his scent, the sheer heat radiating off his body, the way his eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable.

“You’ve been running your mouth,” he said quietly, his voice so low it sent a thrill through your body. “And now you’re going to see what happens when you push me too far.”

Your heart raced, but instead of fear, you felt something else. Something hot and electric buzzing just beneath your skin. This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? To push him, to see how far you could go before he snapped. And now, here you were, cornered by the very man you’d been teasing, his breath warm against your face, his presence swallowing you whole.

You tilted your chin up, your voice steady even though your pulse was thundering in your ears. “What are you gonna do, Lieutenant? Scare me off?”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, and the sound made your stomach flip. “No. I don’t think fear’s what you want from me.”

Your breath hitched as his gloved hand came up, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but. You could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, the raw power behind his calm demeanor.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the solidity of his muscles against yours, the firmness of his chest against your soft curves. He leaned in, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath hot on your skin.

His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, his gaze locking with yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. "What you want," he said, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, "is for me to put you in your place."

He grabbed you by your hairs, a seductive whimper escaping your lips as he tilted your head to expose your throat.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh of your throat, sending a shiver through you. "You think you're so damn cocky," he murmured against your skin. "But you've been asking for this for a long time, haven't you?"

You completely melted in his hands, done and dusted.

Ghost could feel you surrendering to him, the tension leaving your body as you melted against him. A slow, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He liked seeing you like this, all defiant bravado gone, replaced by raw, unguarded need.

He pulled your hair a little tighter, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, pulling your body even closer, making sure you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.

He chuckled softly at the sound you made, his eyes flicking down to your parted lips. God, you looked so perfect like this, all soft and pliant, your body pressed against his, the sound of your ragged breaths filling the air.

He tightened his grip on your hair, tilting your head back further, exposing more of your neck. "You look damn good like this," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your flesh. "All mine."

And then, before you could think, before you could say another word, he closed the gap between you.

His lips crashed against yours, fierce and unrelenting, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching for his chest, clutching at his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss was wild, a mix of frustration and pent-up desire, everything you’d been pushing him toward finally snapping.

Ghost’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him, his touch possessive and firm. You moaned into his mouth, the sheer intensity of it all sending a jolt of heat through your entire body. It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you, like he’d been holding back for too long, and now that the dam had broken, there was no going back.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. His eyes were darker than ever, filled with something raw and primal.

“I warned you,” he whispered, his voice rough, “but you didn’t listen.”

Your heart was still pounding, but a slow smile spread across your lips. “Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen.”

Ghost chuckled again, a low, dangerous sound. “Now you know.”

Warning: Smut..

Ghost’s head dropped back onto the pillow, his chest rising and falling under your touch as you straddled his thick thighs. His breath came heavy as he held your gaze, a soft smirk playing on his lips. You leaned over, your fingers grazing his jaw, and without another word, captured his lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, drawing a low growl from deep within his chest, your teeth grazing against his skin in a way that made his eyes darken with desire.

Your salivas mix together, tongues plundering into each other's mouths as they danced, teeth clattering with the intensity of your passionate kiss.

You felt him shift under you, his strong hands gripping your ass as you straddled him.

He swallowed nervously, his adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Every touch, every kiss only fueled the fire between you two. Your tongue darted into his mouth again, claiming every inch, as you teased and tangled with him, matching his intensity.

“You’re not holding back, are you?” he murmured, voice thick with arousal, his hands tightening on your ass.

“Not tonight, Ghost,” you whispered back, biting down on his lip before letting it go. “I told you what would happen if you caught me.”

His grip on you tightened even more as you sank down onto his thick leaking cock, your thighs bracing against his. A broken moan escaped him, and he pushed his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of your walls clenching around him, your warmth and tightness. The low, husky sound sent a shiver down your spine, filling you with a sense of power.

“Oh, babe… you feel so damn good,” he groaned, voice strained.

You smirked, rolling your hips slowly as you rode his cock, savouring every inch as you held his gaze. He was used to being in control, yet here he was, vulnerable and at your mercy. His breaths grew more ragged, his eyes half-lidded, watching you through a haze of desire.

Just as you felt his body tense beneath you, that telltale sign he was on the edge, you reached under the pillow, fingers finding the cold, unforgiving metal of his sidearm. Slowly, you lifted it, pressing it gently to his forehead. His eyes flew open, a flicker of shock mixed with excitement flashing across his face.

“Ah, ah,” you murmured with a wicked smile, tilting your head. “Don’t you dare come now, big boy… not until I say so.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for the first time, you saw him truly vulnerable, a trained killer and hardened soldier brought to his knees by a simple command. His jaw clenched, his eyes locked onto yours, his whole body fighting the desire building within him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped, voice low and rough, a glint of submission in his gaze that sent a thrill through you.

You leaned forward, the barrel of the gun still pressed to his skin, whispering against his ear, “Atta Boy.”

And just like that, you resumed your movements, drawing out every second, keeping him on the edge as he lay there, helpless to resist you.

“You’re a cruel woman, you know that, don’t you?” he rasped, a low chuckle escaping him despite the situation.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering to the gun now resting at the side of his face. His jaw clenched, the stubble scraping against his teeth, as he fought to regain control of his body.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his knuckles white from the effort of holding back. His voice was a low growl, “You’re playing with fire, darlin'... I'm only so far gone for you before I snap and take over...

"Is that so?"

“Oh, it is...” His breath hitched as you leaned over him, the gun still at his head as you began to ride him in long, languid strokes. “You’re testing my control, babe… testing the leash you’ve got me on.

With a sudden burst of strength, he flipped you onto your back, the gun falling from his forehead as he pinned your wrists above your head, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity. “Enough playing nice,” he snarled, his lips crashing against yours in a brutal kiss.

“You wanted the Ghost,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, lethal tone. “Well, you’ve got him now.”  His lips found your neck, teeth nipping sharply as he marked you, his hips snapping forward, driving deep into you.

He growled against your skin, his grip on your wrists tightening as he continued his relentless assault, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you. That's right, baby... you wanted the real me. The dangerous me.

His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, filled with a primal hunger. He angled his hips, driving into you harder, deeper, determined to shatter you with pleasure. You wanted to see the monster, darlin? he growled, his voice rough with desire,

And with that, you submitted to him his touch, his body enveloping you completely.

"I was a woman untouched by soldiers' charms,

A warrior who won every battle, every war.

But when I gazed into his shadowed eyes,

I surrendered all, my strength, my will,

And lost the war I never meant to fight."

The Bodyguard pt-2

Part 1 & 3 link in the end.

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

This chap contains a lot of slowburn

"You're not alone inside, are you?" Ghost asked, his voice low and steady. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the layout of the house, mentally calculating the risks.

"I'm here most of the time," you said, glancing at him. "But I've got a few trusted people in place."

He nodded, clearly assessing the situation. "Good. But trust is earned, not given. If Garcia gets past the outside, you'll need more than just a few guards. A team, at least."

You met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I can handle myself, but I'll take your advice."

He gave a small nod. "You might be able to handle yourself, but you need the right backup. If you want to survive Garcia, you need to be prepared for anything."

A flicker of something, resolve, maybe passed through your eyes. "I've been preparing for this for a long time."

His eyes softened just slightly under the mask. "Good. Then we'll make sure it's enough."

"I was in my car when they were shot in front of my eyes," you whispered, your voice trembling as the memory came rushing back. "I-I had a panic attack... and I went into shock..."

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Ghost stood motionless, his mask impassive, but the surprise in his eyes softened, giving way to something deeper-something almost like understanding. He nodded slowly, his posture shifting slightly as if adjusting to the weight of your revelation. His voice, when he spoke, was lower, softer, a rare shift in tone. "A panic attack and shock," he echoed, his words slow and measured. "That's a normal response, considering what you went through."

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't recall... it gives me PTSD."

The words seemed to hit him like a blow, and his eyes narrowed behind the mask. There was a brief flicker of something grim, something darker, before he spoke again. "PTSD," he repeated, his voice taking on an almost reverent tone, as if the weight of the term itself deserved respect. "That's understandable. Experiencing trauma like that... it's life-altering."

You flinched, instinctively rubbing your forehead as the memories surged forward. The tears came too quickly, but you wiped them away before they could fall, trying to regain your composure.

Ghost's eyes followed the movement, noting the subtle tremor in your hand, the way you fought against the raw emotion that threatened to break through. He noticed the brief flicker of pain in your expression, and it made something inside him tighten, something he rarely allowed to stir. The gruff, impassive persona he had carefully crafted seemed to slip, replaced by something far more human-more concerned. Without thinking, he took a small step closer, his voice softer now, tinged with a note of care. "You okay?" he asked, the question a low murmur, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that seemed to demand more than just an answer.

You blinked rapidly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "I am fine," you said quickly, though the words lacked conviction. "Your room is upstairs, make yourself at home, Lieutenant. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, you turned and started to walk away, making your way towards the pool area, heading for your room downstairs. Ghost watched you, his eyes following the curve of your figure, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask. He wasn't used to seeing vulnerability in people like you-not billionaires, not those who lived in a world of opulence and luxury, where real danger felt like a distant, foreign concept. Most of them were pampered, untouched by the harshness of life's cruelties. But you... you were different.

He shook his head slightly, as if to rid himself of the thought, and forced his focus back on the mission. His footsteps were quiet as he made his way upstairs, each one deliberate, careful. The familiar routine of moving through a house on guard, silent as a shadow, was a comfort to him, and he allowed it to take over as he ascended the stairs, leaving the tension behind him.

Later, in the stillness of his room, Ghost sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, the room dark except for the soft, muted light filtering through the blinds. The bed was large, spacious, but it felt empty, and his mind was far from the comfort it should have offered. His fingers drummed absently against the duvet as his eyes narrowed, his thoughts consumed by your reaction. The image of you flinching, of your hand brushing away the tears that had threatened to fall, lingered in his mind, like a splinter lodged deep in his thoughts, impossible to ignore.

He wasn't used to this-not to concern, not to empathy. Emotions were weaknesses in his line of work, tools of distraction that could get you killed. But there was something about you, something about the way you wore your pain so openly, that unsettled him. He had dealt with the fallout of trauma countless times, but this... this was different.

His gaze darkened as he exhaled sharply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. He had a job to do. That was his priority, his focus. Yet, as much as he tried to push it away, he found himself wondering how you were faring downstairs. Was the trauma still haunting you? Was it keeping you awake, even now, as he sat alone in his room?

The thought struck him almost with humor, though it was a humorless, bitter laugh. When had he started caring about the nightmares of a billionaire?

The soft glow of early morning light spilled through the kitchen windows, illuminating your figure as you stood in your black silk nightgown and robe. The fabric clung to your body in all the right places, the delicate lace tracing the outline of your curves as you reached for the creamer on the top shelf. The slight stretch of your arm accentuated the smooth arch of your back, the silk of your gown whispering against your skin. The scene felt almost too intimate, too personal, the kitchen now an unexpected stage for the quiet tension that simmered between you.

Ghost's footsteps were silent as always, his presence like a shadow, subtle yet undeniable. He stopped just inside the doorway, his eyes dark and unreadable behind the mask, watching you with an intensity that made the air feel charged. His gaze flicked over you with a trained precision, noting the way the silk robe clung to your frame, the soft curve of your neck as you tilted your head to reach the jar. It wasn't just your figure that caught his attention; it was the quiet grace with which you moved, a delicate vulnerability in a moment so simple yet so raw.

You didn't notice his presence until his voice cut through the stillness, deep and low. "Need some help?"

You startled slightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you tried to make light of the situation. "Ah! Yes. Seems like the creamer decided to run upstairs." The casual words did little to mask the way your pulse quickened as he moved closer, his body towering over you in a way that made the space between you feel charged with heat. The scent of his cologne mingled with the clean, floral fragrance of your perfume, and suddenly, the kitchen seemed too small, the silence too heavy.

Ghost didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on you, following the curve of your waist, the delicate movement of your shoulders as you shifted to reach the jar. Every second felt stretched thin, the quiet tension building between you, until finally, he took a step forward. His presence behind you was overwhelming, his body heat radiating against your back, the soft brush of his chest against yours enough to make your breath hitch. He reached up with ease, his hand brushing against your side as he took the jar from the shelf, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The proximity between you both was almost suffocating, the gentle press of his body against yours sending an electric pulse through you. You could feel the muscles of his chest shifting under his shirt as he stood so close, his breath warm against the back of your neck. The subtle brush of his fingertips as he steadied you made your heart race faster, and you struggled to steady your breath, your senses heightened in a way that made every movement feel magnified.

Ghost held the jar in his hand, his fingers long and strong, wrapping around it with ease as he pulled it down from the shelf. The way his hands moved, so assured and commanding, made it clear how capable he was. But it was his proximity to you, the way his body loomed over yours, that made everything feel more intense. Every inch of space between you felt charged, alive with something that neither of you had yet acknowledged. The heat from his body radiated against you, and your breath hitched in your throat, a subtle flutter in your chest that you couldn't ignore.

He didn't speak immediately, his gaze still fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his stare, the intensity in his eyes even as he held the jar out to you. "Here," he muttered, his voice thick and a little rougher than usual, a low growl that seemed to vibrate in the air between you. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself instinctively biting your lip as you reached for the creamer jar.

As your fingers brushed against his, something passed between you, a spark of electricity that made the air around you crackle. You quickly took the jar from his hand, your fingers lingering just a moment too long on his skin, before you slipped past him to the counter. But even that small, fleeting contact was enough to make your heart race. His eyes followed you, unwavering, his body still poised and tense behind you as you walked away. It was almost as if he couldn't tear his gaze from the way the silk of your gown swayed with each step, the fabric hugging your body in a way that taunted him.

The brief moment of shared tension hung in the air, thick and unspoken. Ghost didn't move immediately, his eyes lingering on your retreating form as a quiet battle waged within him. His usual stoic demeanor wavered for just a second, as if the brief moment of proximity had unsettled something deep inside him. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to turn away, his footsteps light as he moved toward the kitchen door. Yet, the image of you, the soft sway of your body, the heat of your presence, the way you had reacted so instinctively to his touch, stayed with him long after you were out of sight.

He wasn't used to this kind of distraction, wasn't used to feeling anything but the mission, but with you, everything seemed more complicated, more dangerous. And that made it all the more irresistible.

You made coffee for yourself and for Ghost, the smell of the rich brew filling the kitchen as you prepared the cups. Soon, the chef and the rest of the staff arrived, and breakfast was served. Afterward, you excused yourself to change into your office attire.

Fifteen minutes later, you returned, your entrance commanding attention. The moment Ghost saw you, his breath hitched. You had traded your more casual clothes for a striking ensemble: a black, short skirt that hugged your hips perfectly, paired with a black lace corset top that accentuated your curves in a way that made his pulse quicken. The black blazer you wore only added to the professional yet seductive aura that surrounded you.

His heart nearly stopped. Ghost was no stranger to beautiful women, but there was something about the way you wore this outfit that made his thoughts falter. His eyes traced every inch of you, the hunger he tried so hard to suppress evident in his gaze. He forced himself to maintain his composure, clearing his throat before speaking.

"Quite the transformation," he remarked, his voice rougher than usual, a slight edge of something darker beneath the surface.

You didn't meet his eyes immediately. Instead, you simply nodded, a small, confident smile playing at your lips. "Let's go," you said, turning towards the elevator.

As you reached the underground parking garage, Ghost followed in silence. The click of your heels echoed against the smooth floors as you walked toward the Bugatti Veyron, the keys jingling in your hand. You climbed into the driver's seat effortlessly, looking every bit the part of someone who was both capable and dangerous.

Ghost lingered for a moment, watching you with a mix of admiration and something deeper. "You're drivin' yourself?" he asked, his voice betraying a touch of surprise. "And I thought you were all about chauffeurs and limos."

You glanced over your shoulder at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. "I like to drive myself sometimes."

Throughout the drive, Ghost stayed quiet, his eyes scanning the surroundings, but his mind was elsewhere, fixed on you. It was hard for him to concentrate with you so close, your scent lingering in the air, the quiet hum of the engine, and the soft movements of your body as you maneuvered the car. The rhythmic motion of your driving was almost hypnotic, and he could feel the tension in his body building, coiling tighter with each passing moment.

The office day was long but predictable. You moved with confidence, handling business matters with ease. Ghost watched you from the periphery, his eyes always alert, but they couldn't help but follow you as you moved, graceful, composed, every step calculated. There was something captivating about the way you carried yourself, even in the midst of all the work. The way the office attire clung to your figure... It was impossible to ignore.

By the time the workday ended and you returned home, the atmosphere had shifted. The silence between you and Ghost was thick with unspoken tension. You took a quick shower and had dinner, the food almost an afterthought. Ghost, meanwhile, did his security checks, ensuring everything was in order.

Later, he found you in the living room, watching a movie. He leaned casually against the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on you. "Watching a movie, eh?" he asked, his voice rough, tinged with something more than just curiosity. "Anything interesting?"

You didn't look up at him, your focus still on the screen. "Yeah. It's a romantic movie," you replied.

As the movie progressed, the scene shifted, and Ghost found himself unable to look away. The screen displayed an intense, passionate kiss, hands grasping, bodies pressing together. The intimacy of the scene stirred something deep inside him, something primal and raw. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the surge of heat spreading through him.

Just as the scene became more intense, the remote slipped from your hand as you tried to turn it off. Your frustration was palpable, the soft sounds of the couple's passion filling the room. The girl's moans echoed, and your face turned bright red, your embarrassment unmistakable.

Ghost's eyes locked on the screen for a moment longer, his jaw tightening as the sounds filled the room. The scene played out with such intimacy, the kind of heat that had no place in his world, but it had a way of tugging at something buried deep within him. He turned to you, his gaze darkened with something fierce.

"Fucking hell," you muttered, trying again with the remote, but it wasn't working. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and Ghost couldn't stop himself from taking a step toward you.

"Turn it off," he ordered, his voice low, almost a growl.

"I'm trying," you stammered, the panic in your eyes clear as the scene escalated further.

Ghost stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, as if the air around you had thickened. He towered over you, his hands moving with purpose as he grabbed the remote from your trembling fingers. The brief contact between your skin sent a jolt of electricity straight to his core, igniting something he had been trying to suppress.

With one swift motion, he turned the TV off, and the room fell into an almost suffocating silence. His eyes locked on yours, watching you carefully, studying the way your body reacted to the close proximity.

"You shouldn't be watchin' stuff like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse with unspoken desires. He closed the distance between you even more, his body a solid presence, his warmth enveloping you.

You took a small step back, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths, but Ghost didn't give you any space to retreat. He moved in closer, his large frame nearly consuming yours. The air between you was thick with tension, and his voice was barely above a whisper when he asked, "Why are you breathin' like that? Are you scared?"

Without responding, you turned quickly and fled to your room, your heart racing in your chest.

Ghost stood in place for a moment, watching you leave, a mixture of frustration and something darker brewing inside him. He didn't move, his gaze fixed on your retreating form, unsure whether to follow or leave it be. The urge to chase after you gnawed at him, but he remained still, his body taut with restraint.

The door to your room clicked shut, and Ghost stood there, his mind in turmoil. He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, this ache, this hunger that was building with every passing second.

The next morning It was your day off, a rare moment of respite, and you had decided to spend it quietly in your room. You sat in front of your dressing table, your movements slow and deliberate as you applied lipstick, the brush strokes careful as you enhanced your already striking features. You were dressed in little more than black lace lingerie, a delicate, lacy bra and matching panties, your skin almost glowing against the dark fabric. Absentmindedly, you had left your door unlocked, not expecting anyone to intrude.

Then, without warning, the standing mirror behind you tilted dangerously. It seemed to fall in slow motion before shattering loudly, the glass spraying across the floor in a cacophony of sound. The sudden crash made you jump, a sharp scream escaping your lips as you recoiled, heart hammering in your chest.

At the sound of your scream, Ghost's training kicked in without hesitation. His body went rigid, instincts sharp and primed for action. In an instant, he was on his feet, his senses alert. Without pausing to think, he rushed towards your room, his boots pounding against the floor, the door crashing open with a force that matched the urgency of his steps.

For a brief moment, he froze. The sight of you, standing there in nothing but skimpy lingerie, sent a jolt of heat straight through him. The shattered mirror reflected the image of your bare skin, the delicate lace of your undergarments clinging to your curves. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he couldn't tear them away. His breath hitched, but he quickly forced himself to look away, a wave of frustration sweeping over him.

"Oh my god!" you squeaked, instinctively wrapping your arms around your body in a vain attempt to shield yourself.

"Cover yourself!" Ghost growled, his voice rough with something deep and primal as he turned away, his jaw clenched tightly. His hands fisted at his sides, the mix of anger and arousal burning through him like wildfire. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, trying desperately to regain control over his emotions.

You grabbed the silk bedsheet from the bed and wrapped it around yourself, your body trembling as the cool fabric touched your heated skin. Ghost could feel his heart pounding, his pulse racing as he stood with his back to you, his body rigid with restraint. His thoughts were a tangled mess, torn between the urge to protect you, to be angry, and the darker, more dangerous part of him that reacted to the vulnerability you were now showing.

"I--I'm covered. You can look," you said, your voice small, your grip tightening around the sheet.

Ghost slowly exhaled, forcing himself to calm down. His mind screamed at him to walk away, to maintain his usual impassive demeanor, but he couldn't shake the image of you, of how you looked standing there, so exposed and vulnerable. It ignited something in him that had been buried for so long.

He turned around, his gaze cold and sharp, but he refused to let his eyes drop lower than your face. He could feel the tension building between them, thick and heavy, making it harder to concentrate.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, his voice low and gravelly, the edge of frustration clear in his tone. "Why were you just standing there in nothing but...?" He trailed off, unwilling to say it outright, but his words hung in the air, a silent challenge.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I was just going to dress up," you muttered, your face flushed with embarrassment as you grabbed your dress from the bed.

The unspoken tension simmered between the two of you, thickening the atmosphere in the room. Ghost's thoughts raced, his gaze flickering briefly to the bed sheet still clutched tightly around you, and an unfamiliar possessiveness washed over him. He didn't want anyone, anyone, to see you like this, so vulnerable, so exposed.

His next words came out in a low growl. "Put the dress on." His voice was firm, commanding, yet there was an undercurrent of something else, something more dangerous.

"I'm going to put it on," you replied, a sense of urgency in your voice as you darted towards the attached bathroom.

Ghost stood frozen for a moment, his mind still reeling from what had just happened. He was acutely aware of the ache in his chest, the simmering tension that refused to dissipate. Everything had changed between you, and he couldn't deny the heat building in him every time he thought about it.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind, focusing on the task at hand. He stepped out of the room, his thoughts a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. He found one of the servants and calmly informed them about the broken mirror, his voice betraying nothing of the internal chaos he was experiencing. His body still thrummed with tension, but he had to maintain control, to keep the façade intact.

Even though his words were neutral, his mind couldn't help but replay the image of you in that lingerie, the way your body had looked in the soft lighting of the room, the way it had affected him. He could still feel the heat rising inside him, an ache he didn't know how to satisfy.

As he walked away, he felt the weight of the encounter hanging in the air, like an invisible thread connecting you both. Something had shifted between you, and he knew, deep down, that it would never be the same again.

Part 1

Part 3

I have never surrendered in front of a warrior.

How come in front of your eyes, I surrendered?

I came back after winning all my battles.

Simon"Ghost"RileyxReader

Warning: Explicit 18+, Non con and DubCon themed, sex..

The door to the janitor's closet slammed shut with a resounding thud, the noise reverberating through the small, dimly lit space. You were pressed against the cold, unforgiving wall, the force of it causing your breath to hitch as your sternum collided with the hard surface. Your eyes fluttered, rolling back involuntarily as a mix of fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins.

His presence was overpowering, dominating every inch of the cramped room. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the musk of the enclosed space, filled your senses, making it hard to think of anything else. His thick, husky voice echoed in your ear, low and dangerous, each word wrapped in a blanket of barely restrained intensity.

"Wot did I tell ya about behaving, rookie?" His hot breath tickled your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine as the roughness of his tone contrasted with the soft brush of his lips grazing your skin.

You could hear the rustling of fabric, the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being undone. The click of metal against leather was deafening in the silence, amplifying the tension that hung heavy in the air.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as you struggled to find your voice. It came out shaky, barely more than a whisper. "Ss-sorry," you stammered, the word trembling on your lips as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing tighter as you stood there, helpless against the force that had taken hold of you. The moments stretched on, each second weighted with the unknown, as you awaited whatever came next.

You were pressed harder against the wall, your feet lifting off the ground as he groaned low in his throat, the sound reverberating through your entire body. The pressure against your chest made it difficult to breathe, every inch of you pinned by his overwhelming presence.

"Tsk tsk! Can't make things up now with that sorry," he growled, the sound laced with dark amusement, his teeth grazing your earlobe in a way that sent jolts of electricity down your spine. The sharp edge of his tone left no room for argument, his voice carrying a weight of authority that made you instinctively shrink back, despite there being nowhere to go.

A soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips, betraying the fear and helplessness you felt. The sound seemed to spur him on, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as his large, gloved hands moved up your sides. They were rough, commanding, as they found their way to the swell of your breasts, cupping them with a firm grip that sent a shudder through you.

You barely had time to register what was happening before the sound of fabric tearing filled the small room. Your shirt was ripped open with one swift motion, the buttons popping off and scattering across the linoleum floor. The cool air hit your exposed skin, the sudden chill contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from his body.

Your shirt lay in tatters on the floor beneath you, a silent testament to your vulnerability. His gloved hands lingered, rough against the softness of your flesh, each touch sending a jolt of sensation through you, amplifying the tension that hung in the air.

"Sir!" you squeaked, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. It was a desperate sound, more a plea than a protest, your fear bubbling up as you struggled to find any semblance of control.

"Ssh, ssh! Kitten," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, yet laced with an unmistakable warning. Before you could utter another word, his hand came up to cover your mouth, muffling the shrill sound that had escaped your lips. The leather of his glove was cool against your skin, its scent mixing with the sweat and fear that clung to the air around you.

"Don't invite your friends over," he whispered in your ear, his tone almost playful, yet the threat was clear. The closeness of his breath made your heart race, pounding in your chest so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

With his hand still firmly pressed against your mouth, you felt utterly trapped, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The dark, confined space of the closet seemed to grow even smaller, closing in on you as you fought to steady your racing thoughts. The only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, shallow and uneven, as you tried to process the situation unfolding around you.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply as if savoring the moment. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You felt him inhale, his nose brushing against your collarbone as he took in the sweet scent of your body wash. Lavender—his favorite. The subtle fragrance clung to you, delicate and soothing, but in his presence, it felt like a weapon turned against you, something that only made you more vulnerable.

His own scent was a stark contrast, a heady mixture of sweat and gunpowder, raw and intoxicating. It filled your senses, clouding your mind and driving you to the brink of insanity. The scent was all-encompassing, pulling you into his world, one that was dark, dangerous, and utterly consuming.

Each breath you took was filled with him, every inhale laced with the essence of who he was—uncompromising, relentless, and impossible to escape. The juxtaposition of his rugged masculinity against the softness of your own scent heightened the tension, making every second feel like a drawn-out eternity.

His face remained buried in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he continued to take in your scent, almost as if he was imprinting it in his memory. The sensation was maddening, a mix of fear and something else, something you didn’t dare to name but could feel growing stronger with every passing moment.

Your bra was unclasped with a swift, practiced motion, and you heard it land somewhere behind you, forgotten in the intensity of the moment. Your pants were tugged down, the fabric sliding over your skin as they were removed, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. The cool air hit your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between your bodies. With one quick, brutal motion, your panties were torn away, the sound of ripping fabric sharp and final in the confined space.

"There's my good girl," he whispered, his voice a low, rough murmur that sent a shiver through your entire body. The words, though soft, held a power that made your breath catch, a mix of command and dark praise that left no doubt about who was in control.

You felt the tip of his cock, hard and unyielding, pressing against your folds from behind, teasing you with an agonizing slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was electric, your nerves on fire as anticipation built with every passing second. Your eyes rolled back, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, overpowering any lingering fear or hesitation.

Your head fell back against the wall, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, each teasing movement pushing you closer to the edge as you gave in to the storm of emotions and desires that had been unleashed.

Without a warning, he thrusted into you deep. From the tip to the hilt, his cock buried deep inside you. Your pussy clenched around his length, you were lifted off the floor, your head resting back on his shoulder. He made you see stars as your vision blurred.

He groaned lowly, the sound rumbling from his chest as he let out a sharp exhale.

“Dammit..”

He bit back a curse, holding you up with ease as he gave a subtle, but firm squeeze of your hips.

His grip tightens on your hips as he begins to move, each thrust hard and commanding, a testament to his disciplined and unyielding nature. His breath is hot against your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest with every thrust.

"Fuck you!" you gritted your teeth.

A smirk tugs at the corner of Ghost's lips at your words, his thrusts becoming more rough and urgent, a mix of adrenaline and amusement coursing through him. "That's the idea, love." He grunts, his voice low and rough.

"I will report you to Colonel." You yelled.

His grip on your hips tightens, his movements becoming more controlled and deliberate, a subtle warning in his actions. "Colonel knows what I'm doing and why. He won't stop me." He growls in your ear, his tone confident and unwavering.

"Please. Stop! Don't do this to me." You sobbed.

Ghost's movements falter at your sobs, his grip on your hips loosening as he looks at your distress. He sees the fear and pain in your eyes and hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. "Look at me."

You turned around. Your little body is trembling. Your breaths are shaky.

Ghost's expression softens as he looks at you, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. He reaches out and gently wipes away your tears, his voice gentle but firm. "I'm not going to stop, not until you understand."

"Please be gentle." You whispered. Your face flushed with heat.

Ghost's expression gentles, his hands slowly caressing your body, gentling his touch. He enters you slowly, his eyes locked with yours, intensifying the emotional connection. "Wrap your legs around me."

You did what he said. You started kissing him with fervor and passion.

He returns your kiss with equal fervor, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as he starts to move inside you, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, gradually increasing in pace and depth as he loses himself in the moment. "I've got you," he murmurs against your lips.

"Oh my god. Yes." You moaned breathlessly.

His lips curl into a smirk at your moan, his movements becoming more deliberate as he responds to your cries of pleasure. He reaches down between you, stroking and pressing against your clit with his thumb, heightening the sensations.

"Oh fuck!" You whined.

His grin widens at your reaction, his movements becoming more insistent as he drives into you, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen bud. His breath grows hotter, his voice low and commanding. "Come for me."

"Awww!" Your mewls and whines consumed the room. Your eyes rolled back. Your face contorted in pleasure.

As you reach your climax, Ghost's thumb presses firmly against your clit, sending you over the edge. Your walls clench around him, milking his cock as he buries himself deep inside you, his own release following closely behind. "FUCK," he roars, filling you with his seed.

"Your breathing slowed down as you came down from your high. "That, That was the best sex I ever had." You hid your face in his chest.

"Did anyone hear us? And I have no shirt. How will I go out of this Janitor's closet?" You whispered.

Ghost chuckles at your question, nuzzling your neck before pulling out from you and gently cleaning you up with paper towels. "Soundproof… I made sure…" He grins mischievously, then unbuttons his shirt. "Wear this. It'll be big on you anyway."

"Thankyou Sir!" You took his shirt and wore it. You slipped your pants up and set your hairs. You pressed a kiss on his cheek. "See ya around Sir." You winked.

Ghost watches you adjust yourself, his heart swelling with affection as he sees you wear his shirt. He smiles at the kiss on his cheek and the wink that follows. "See you around, kid," he says softly, opening the door for you. "And remember, our secret stays between us."

"Sure!" You winked before you left.

Ghost watches you leave, a satisfied grin on his face as he admires the sway of your hips, knowing he was the last to have his hands on that beautiful body.

He came out shirtless with only his cargo pants. Soap was passing by. "Aye! LT! Are you planning to kill the girls tonight with this body."

If LOVE were all.

If I pen down 'love,' may you feel it all.

I’ve spent my entire life perceiving love through Rumi’s eyes, a longing, endless yet futile. When you and I got married, people often asked, "Simon, why did you marry so soon?" It was an arranged marriage, although most think it was love. The past was bitter, and honestly, it was that bitterness that gave my pen its strength. Pursuing an advanced fellowship in transplant hepatology in a remote, deprived region like was the fulfillment of a promise I made to my brother, a realization of my own dream that completed me in ways I cannot describe. Yet, late at night, when the Express train thunders past the rail line buried in sand nearby, I remember the bitterness of my youth and how it found its completion in the form of you.

No matter how deeply one loses themselves in the world, God never lets one stray from His love, and it’s in this love that the feminine audacity also travels, those fragile threads, young promises on a fraying string walked in darkness. The moment you display such audacity, you are grounded, humbled, and then it’s up to the Divine’s mercy whether He keeps you on that ground or lifts you to the heavens. In the rhythmic clinking of anklets on muddied feet, dancing in the rain-soaked earth, at any moment, spirituality may sweep you off your feet; this is the journey of Divine presence.

Whenever I looked at you, a question often surfaced in my mind: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? For love, after all, is synonymous with unattainability. How can one love what one already possesses? When Orion was born, he replaced you. This was a new rain of emotions, yet, was this love? He was but a part of my own being. This was affection. A love so pure it rivaled even that elusive love. In the search for an answer to this question, my journey brought me to compassion.

I have yet to meet compassion, but I have fallen in love with its love. It provided me an answer to a question I could never find in Rumi’s books. A part of my restless soul remained in search of it: Can one truly fall in love after marriage? Yes, if that love becomes unattainable. Even love takes the form of passion if it transcends and becomes eternal.

If I pen down an ‘L’, you begin to feel me,

Then with ‘O’, your sleep escapes,

When ‘V’ flows, a soft shiver awakens,

"Simon"Ghost"Riley..

Simon!

Don't you know how many words were clung to your feet?

When you burned the last letter I sent you,

When you took out the dead flowers from the books,

Simon! Did you remember the one who gave it to you?

I used to dance for you like a gypsy in the temple of of love worshipping you like you were my one and only.

You weren't there for me when the flowers bloomed and birds chirped, like the trumpets being played somewhere in my heart.

I used to be the soothing balm for your soul, a gust of cool breeze in the depths of your dispair,

A melody for your tired ears, a sight to your weary eyes, a light to the darkness enveloping your whole existance.

Like the morning sunlight you illuminated my existance, like a river you quenched my thirst.

Then why? Why did you become an incurable disease? a drug so addicting I couldn't live without you.

Why did you become a wound I can't heal, a limb I can't amputate, that gnaws at my flesh and bones?

I didn't know loving you was taking a shot of the poison so strong that neither caused my death nor it let me live.

You were the warmth of my coldest days, the bliss to this aching heart.

Why would you put the dagger of love deep in my heart that it got shattered into a million pieces, scattering it everwhere.

You were there when a bullet from your own gun travelled through my heart, passed through my whole existance, took my every breath away.

When the string to my soul cut off leaving me wandering in the universe of the lost souls for eternity. You were'nt there for me.

You weren't there when the lights were switched off, when this heart took your name with every beat of it till it stopped.

You weren't there when I ceased to exist.

When the maples leaves were crushed beneath your feet, the leaves who carried away my fate with them.

And I was erased from the own lines of my fate.

How easy was to bury me 6 feet down with my memories, how easy was it for me to sleep in the depths of the ground, alone in the darkness.

Left to rot with the negelcted gravestone.

Another girl! Succumbed to your darkness.

And you were the DEATH of me..

If only I could make you mine,