#sub!ghost

“Could you come here?” You ask him and he just gives you a blank stare. Raising your eyebrows clearly waiting for a response he turns around looking for who you could be talking to and who is clearly not listening to you. When he sees no one else in the aisle he slowly points at himself, questioning you. “Yes you.” You smile trying to hold in a laugh. Quickly adding a “please” in the sweetest little voice and he is scurrying over to you.

“Could you please reach that box for me?” Ghost raises his arm up and points to a box when you nod confirming that’s the one you want he hands it to you. “That one too please” he obeys. You have him hand you two more boxes (not needing any of them). Then you try to push your luck a little. “Wait not this one” you hand him a box back and he returns it to the shelf. Before you know it you’ve had this man put all the boxes back just to hand them to you again. A smirk plastered on your face. Not once did the large man question you, not when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“Ok done with this aisle. Come on.” You start walking and his feet are following you. He hasn’t said a word to you but is following you around the store like a puppy. Down the next aisle you pointed at something (well within your reach) and he handed it you.

“Are you always this obedient?” You watched his eyes go wide but he found himself nodding. He’d probably say yes to anything you ask when you’re looking at him like that, like you want to eat him whole. His answer brought a smile to your face and he swore his knees were gonna buckle. You held out your hand, “phone.” It was a statement not a question and he quickly (fumbling) pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. When you saw it was locked you looked up at him moving the phone ever so slightly towards him. You had meant for him to take the phone and unlock it but instead he mumbled out “0000” a small but dramatic gasp left your lips “oh so he does speak.” You typed in the 4 digits and the phone opened. You looked up at him when the basic passcode worked. “Simple and obedient. Just how I like ‘em” ghost swallowed hard. No one has ever treated him like this. Spoke to him like this. Not even Price. He should be offended? Insulted? Definitely not turned on. Right? (mark him down and scared AND horny). You handed his phone back to him, your number and name resting on his screen. He reached to take the phone from you, but you didn’t let go. Fingers touching you looked up at him “you better call me. I’ll be real sad if you dont.” He swore he was gonna pass out. Before you let go of his phone, hands still touching, heavy steps made their way into your aisle.

“Aye lieutenant there ye are. Been wandering round lookin fer ya.” Soap called down the aisle.

Ghost refused to acknowledge his friend calling for him, keeping eye contact with you. Your smile got bigger as you let go of the phone.

“Lieutenant huh? That mean you know how to give orders too?” He nodded again. “Then I’m definitely going to need you to call me. I’d like to see that.” Your eyes shamelessly raked down his figure. Fuck he needs to hold on to something.

Once you finally walked away, Soap approached quickly asking who you were and when ghosted shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know.” (But he’s gonna that’s for sure)

“She’s a fine looking lass I’m gonna go talk to her.” Ghost’s hand moved fast, grabbing the back of Soap’s neck guiding (pushing) him in the opposite direction of you. He was thanking god you saw him first and not Soap. If you had talked to Soap like that, ghost knew you’d have him walking on a leash (who’s he kidding if you had asked ghost would’ve barked)

“Fuh-fuck.” Simon gurgles out, fireworks going off behind his eyelids. You’re mean, you’re so fucking mean and he can’t handle it. His fingers curl into the sheets below, his other hand grasping your wrist. His legs feel like fucking jelly and his cock is so hard, it hurts. He calls out your name in a shaky tone as your hand slowly strokes his slicked cock, wet with your spit and his pre-cum. You meanly press your thumb to the underside of his dick right under his tip, pressing against the sensitive spot you know is there.

It earns you a choked out moan and his hips spasming upwards, electricity shooting through him from the base of his spine. Your eyes trail over his body; his pants and boxers are pulled down to just above his knees, his shirt and jacket pushed upwards over his pecs, the fabric gathering up near his neck and collarbones. His belt clinks with every movement, his balaclava pushed up over the hooked part of his nose.. As your hand runs down the wet skin, your thumb pressing against a prominent vein in the process, you absentmindedly think that maybe next time you should tie his wrists with his own belt.

“Say it.” You utter; the phrase, no, command is simple. Can Simon follow through and be obedient is the question. Can he? Simon breaths out harshly as your hand curls around the base of his dick, squeezing deliciously. He can hear the squelch of the fluids mixing. Fuck. He knows what you want from him—you want him to say something positive about himself. You want Simon to value himself the way you do.

Problem is, he can’t. Simon hasn’t been able to do so in a while. He has moments where he feels good, but he has more moments where he feels bad. Gross and undeserving. Unfortunately, that’s most of the time. It’s not like he particularly enjoys being mentally cruel to himself; quite the opposite. Simon just ends up going down a rabbit hole where his brain won’t shut up.

His lips press together and open a few times as your other hand caresses the inside of his big, hairy thigh, fingertips tracing an adductor muscle. Despite feeling hot all over, it sends a cold shiver up Simon’s spine, urging his back into an arch. Simon knows you aren’t continuing, not until he even murmurs self praise. You’re mean and cruel and he hates this. It’s oddly… embarrassing, to some degree. Being unable to say something nice about himself. 

You pull Simon back to reality with another squeeze, earning a grunt and his leg kicking out a little. “Fuck.” He mutters, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. His belt clinks as his leg twitches. “Say it.” You repeat yourself, your tone sporting an edge to it. 

Simon thinks about it; if he does this, you’ll let him cum. You’ve edged him twice now—you both know he can handle much more, but he isn’t sure how long you’re willing to draw this out without letting him cum. He isn’t interested in knowing. His dick hurts and his balls fucking ache like hell. Simon knows better than to play these games—but his mind.. It isn’t cooperating.

He doesn’t see the point in praising himself. What good will that—”You’re still thinking, hm? Thought good boys know how to shut up and listen.” You mutter, gently dragging your nails across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to his scrotum. It drags a delicious spine tingle and shuddery gasp from the big man underneath you.

Simon swallows hard, his head turning to the side. Your hand leaves his thigh, reaching up and grabbing his jaw and turning his head back to you. His eyes meet yours for a moment, a breathy noise leaving him as your fingers skim across the stubble across his jaw that’s grown over the past day and a half. Your presence makes him feel.. Small. Embarrassed and weak. He hates it one second, loves it another. “Wait–” Simon groans as you give his cock a little stroke, leaning down and spitting on his length in order to keep it wet. You hand curls around his base again—God, it’s so fucking possessive. It makes Simon so warm inside.

“Let me see all of you. Maybe then, you’d understand.” You breathe out, your fingertips slipping under the balaclava, pausing. He knows that you’re waiting for his permission—his go ahead to expose him. Simon’s cock twitches in your palm as his mind connects the dots and he nods to you, his eyes locked onto your lips that twitch into a satisfied smile of approval, a smile that makes him warm. You peel off the balaclava, putting it aside before he feels your fingers running through his blonde hair. 

Simon shudders; you’re so gentle. So good and so meaningful with it. You’ve always had a way with your actions, speaking words without actually talking. Every touch, he never has had to doubt. Your intentions have always been so clear with him—to love him, to care for him, to get Simon out of his prison of a mind, to just be on Earth with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes of pleasure.

That’s what is what convinces Simon. Not your words, but your smile. Your gaze, your touch. The silent “i love you”s that are imprinted in every finger pressed to his overheated skin. He has days where he wonders if you’re even human because surely there’s no earthly explanation for a blessing like you to want a curse like him.

Simon feels the familiar bite of emotion welling up in his chest, tight and biting into his heart like vines. Instead of choking it down, he knows you’ll handle his prickled heart with much more care than himself. He hands you the reins. “I-I’m.. Good.” Simon utters, his tone guttural and raw as his eyelids flutter; your hand starts to slowly jerk his cock as a reward, making him spill his dam. “I’m strong, I’m.. fuuh–fuck, I’m fuckin’ handsome, a–and–” He babbles, not knowing how to praise himself.

You swoop in like always. “Mhm, the hottest man I’ve met.” You coo softly, teasing his leaking tip with your thumb, letting the milky pre-cum smear into the vein on the underside of his dick. “The team wouldn’t be the same with you. Say it.”

Simon grunts out, his hips giving a little twitch. “Mhhhn, the.. The team needs me, I’m valuable, I’m needed, I’m the best fuckin’ sniper Price has–” Simon gasps out as your hand speeds up. You grin, tilting your head, your other hand coming to his mouth, wiping spit that dribbled past his lips and tears that spilled out of his lash line. “I’m, shhit, I’m.. sexy, God, I’m big, lemme cum, please–”

Simon’s already so close, it’s fucking mortifying. With the way you’re looking over his exposed body with hungry and affection eyes, your hand skimming down his stomach, tracing his muscles and your other hand jerking him in relatively slow, tight strokes, spitting to keep it sloppy because you know that’s how he likes it—Fuuuck, you aren’t even going fast and his balls are drawing up. The ball in his lower belly is tightening and you’ve barely done a fucking thing. 

God, he’s so gone for you.

“You’re close, baby. You’re twitching.” You murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lip, training down his tear stained cheek, licking the tear that trickled down to his ear. “You’re fucking beautiful, Si. I don’t understand why you make me do this for you to realize. Maybe you just wanna feel me on you, hm? Is that it?”

Simon’s eyes roll as your hand speeds up around his dick, and your voice is in his fucking ear, invading his brain and taking ahold of his nervous system. You’ve merged with him and his reactions and you don’t even know. You don’t even know. 

He’s babbling something, he doesn’t quite hear it. Judging by your smile, Simon’s probably mumbling some random compliment, any compliment towards himself. His hand around your wrist tightens, a whimper getting past his lips as his legs kick a little. “Go ahead, pretty. Good boy.”

Simon thinks he blacks out for a moment—all he feels is something exploding in his gut, his balls pulsing. His cock pumps out thick, hot ropes of creamy cum, shooting all over his abs, spilling over your knuckles–even reaching his neck and pooling in his left collarbone. “Jesus, Si. Pent up, hm? You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I can’t believe you let me do this.” You murmur in his ear, eyeing the way his cock is twitching and throbbing. You milk him, squeezing the base of his cock with every spurt, mimicking a clenching hole.

Simon gasps, mouth opening and closing. The warm pleasure leaks up his spine and seeps into his bone marrow, making him melt and go limp. He feels so heavy, so warm. His hand leaves your wrist, seeking out more of your skin by skimming up your arm, over your shoulder and to your cheek. He feels you press your cheek into his palm.

Simon’s panting as you lean closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as you press your forehead against his. 

His safety net. His love, his life—his home, right here. And you want him. 

Simon doesn’t think he minds being yours.

🏷️; @clancycatears @dumb-fawkin-bitch @ghestielong @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @snoowply @thisuserloveshalloween @spacelia @Ghostindeath @kivino @nyushkawritesstuff

“think this is your new favorite thing, isn’t it?”

he whines.

whines.

lips bitten red, eyes glossy behind the mask, chest rising and falling so fast you think he might fall apart.

“say it,” you coo, stroking him slow and deliberate, just to watch him twitch. “say it or i stop.”

“don’t stop—fuck—please, i love it, i love when you—” his voice cracks, low and broken. “you make me feel so fuckin’ good.”

you lean down, kiss his jaw, soft and smug.

“that’s my good boy.”

his whole body jerks when you say it, like the words hit deeper than anything else could. you can see the tension ripple through his stomach, his thighs, the way his fists tighten in the sheets.

“please,” he rasps again, voice barely there now. “please don’t stop again. i’ll do anything. please i can’t—”

“awe, baby,” you coo, faux sympathy lacing your voice as your hand continues to move torturously slow over his cock. “you’re shaking.”

“i can’t..can’t take it anymore,” he gasps, breathless, head slamming back against the pillows. “please—please love i’ll do anything ill do anything i swear—”

you smirk, dragging your hand back down his cock, relishing in how his hips twitch with every stroke.

“you’ll come when i say,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “not a second before.”

he whines, louder this time, throwing his head back again like he’s throwing a fit. you grin, watching the way his face twists up in pure agony.

“you’re gonna earn it, baby. every fucking drop.”