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writeforfandoms · 10 months

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Listening In 2

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Soap has to work undercover at a restaurant to get info on a target, and meets a waitress he enjoys flustering. He immediately decides he wants to share her with Ghost. Four part mini series, porn then feelings.

Part two: in which Ghost gets hands-on.

This probably has Vegas vibes because I started writing it while I was in Vegas. Oops.

Warnings: swearing, waitress gets a little creeped on (not by Ghost or Soap), manhandling, Simon is pushy, praise kink, dirty talk, check ins, biting, fingering, piv sex, unexpected tenderness, bit of aftercare. This is 80% filth.

Word count: 4.6k

The mark was being uncooperative. He’d shown up to the bar multiple times, but they still hadn’t gotten the info they needed.

Not that Johnny seemed to mind - he’d taken to bartending like a duck to water. Bloody showoff. Simon snorted softly behind his balaclava as he watched Johnny entertain a few people with some bottles.

Simon’s gaze wandered from Johnny to the pretty little waitress. She was busy working, smile firmly in place. She really was pretty. And Johnny had been right - she made the prettiest noises.

Simon was tempted to find out what noises he could get her to make.

Instead he simply watched and waited to see if their mark would come in.

And he did. Half an hour later, their mark walked in and went to a table, a business associate following. It was just bad luck that the table was their waitress’s.

“Soap,” he murmured into comms, “mark is at table 42. Watch yourself.”

“Copy,” Soap murmured back.

Ghost saw the moment Soap realized the full situation - their waitress stopped at the table to take orders, and Soap tensed. But he stayed on mission and didn’t interfere, staying behind the bar where he needed to be.

Ghost was already working on audio for that table, working quickly.

And it turned out to be a good thing he did, too, even as his lips curled in disdain at what he was hearing.

“...one of my favorite places,” their mark was saying to his companion, smarmy grin clear in his voice. “The wait staff here are always… attentive.”

“I certainly hope so.” The companion’s gaze lingered on their waitress. “The uniforms certainly are a good color.”

Both men laughed at that. “You know,” the mark said, leaning in and lowering his voice just a little. Not that he needed to - the place was busy tonight, Ghost doubted anyone else could overhear them. “If one catches your eye…”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” the companion said, clapping his shoulder. “I know my business. Wouldn’t get you in trouble over a pretty little thing.” He winked, and both men laughed again. Ghost set his teeth, watching and listening.

Facial recognition came back with a match on the companion, and Ghost spared a moment to look it over. Riley Finch. Been accused of human trafficking on more than one occasion, but no solid evidence had ever been collected to put him away.

Ghost’s lips pulled in a sneer. Human trafficking, huh? Ghost had half a mind to see how Riley Finch liked being taken against his will and dumped somewhere. Preferably in a dark cell to never see the light of day again.

The next hour dragged. The two men talked business, obliquely enough that Ghost didn’t get anything actionable, just interesting. Things to follow up on.

And then Riley watched the pretty waitress go, tapping the table a couple times. “That one’s not one of your favorites, is she?”

“Nah,” the mark said, leaning back. “Too uptight for me.”

“Good.”

The mark laughed, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t get me in trouble,” he said, standing. “I’m goin’ up to the bar.”

Riley nodded, grinning. “I’ll see you later.”

The two men separated - the mark went up to the bar, where Soap had a good handle on things. Riley, however, managed to follow the waitress up to a computer station and stood there chatting with her. Ghost swore softly - he had video there but no audio.

But whatever Riley said had the waitress shrinking in on herself a little, smile nowhere to be seen, shoulders hunched. Ghost watched as she printed out a receipt and tucked it in a little black folder, shaking her head at Riley. She made her escape as fast as she could without being too obvious.

Ghost debated for a moment, watching Riley loiter. It was possible he’d give up on whatever it was he wanted.

Then again, it was possible he wouldn’t. He did have a history of being a creepy bastard.

Making his decision, Ghost quickly checked the schedule for the employees. He had half an hour. Plenty of time.

–

You pulled your coat on, glancing around as you left. You’d had creeps approach you before, you’d dealt with handsy customers and entitled men.

But something about the man earlier set you on edge, made you paranoid. It was enough to make you regret that you had to walk home alone. Even if it was only midnight.

Pulling your coat tighter around yourself and wishing you had more than pepper spray in your purse, you slipped out the back.

And nearly shrieked when you spotted a person leaning against the wall of the alleyway, clad head to toe in black, huge and hulking.

He called your name, voice rough. It was enough to have you pausing, at least. “I’m a friend of Johnny,” he said, hands out and open at his sides. Trying to be non-threatening. “He asked me to walk you home.”

You raised one eyebrow at him, shifting your weight uncertainly. “Didn’t say anything to me.”

“Said he saw that guy harassing you, wanted to make sure you’re fine.” He shifted off the wall so you could see him better, although he didn’t move towards you.

“Oh.” You warmed, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Um. Okay.” But you still slipped one hand in your purse, clutching your pepper spray. Not that you hoped to use it, but still. Never hurt to be careful. A few steps brought you closer to the giant man, and you frowned when you saw he was wearing a full on balaclava.

Weird, but, well… you’d seen weirder here.

“Just… don’t try anything funny.” You narrowed your eyes a little up at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice was dry as dust and startled you into laughter.

He fell into step next to you as you exited the alleyway. Your fingers tightened around your pepper spray but you didn’t pull it out, instead settling for a quick (paranoid) look around before you started towards your apartment.

“What’s your name?” you asked, glancing briefly up at him before you went back to scanning your surroundings.

“Simon.”

“Simon,” you repeated, noticing the odd twitch of his shoulders. “I hope this isn’t putting you too far out of your way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The words were gruff but not unkind.

You merged with the crowd of party-goers, not paying them any mind. At least until Simon grabbed your purse strap, pulling you firmly behind him. Well. Okay then. Your heart beat faster at that, but it wasn’t because you were scared. Or even intimidated.

So you maybe kind of had a thing for big guys tossing you around a bit. Maybe. At least hypothetically - you’d never had a chance to test it out. But based on the thrumming beneath your skin, you were thinking hell yes you had a thing for this.

He stepped to the side, keeping closer to the buildings, and you took a couple quick steps to catch up to him.

The silence was almost uncomfortable between the two of you. He didn’t seem inclined to chat, and you weren’t sure where to even start. You didn’t know him, had no idea what to even try talking about. It didn’t quite hit your anxiety, but it did make you feel awkward and more shy than normal.

You stepped off the curb between buildings and felt his hand secure around your purse strap again. But this time he didn’t yank you behind him, just kept his grip on you as you navigated through the crowd going the opposite direction.

“Doing okay back there?” you couldn’t help but ask, glancing back at him, caught between amusement and worry. The crowds could be a lot, as well you knew. You’d had a lot of trouble adapting at first.

He grunted, releasing you again once the rowdy partiers were gone. So you just kept walking.

At least you tried to, until suddenly you were being yanked in between two buildings, a firm hand around your wrist. You drew in a startled breath, eyes blowing wide, as another hand secured over the lower half of your face.

“Hush, just me,” Simon whispered, placing his bulk between you and the street. “Stay quiet.”

You pushed at his hand, alarmed, and he shot you a look before releasing you. Lifting his hand to the front of his balaclava, he mimed holding a finger to his lips for silence.

Heart hammering (and not just because of the scare of being yanked around), you leaned very carefully to look around him. And then swallowed hard.

The guy who’d near-threatened you at work was walking slowly down the street. From the opposite direction. He hadn’t followed you - he’d anticipated your route home and gotten ahead of you. You must have made a noise because Simon’s hand clamped back over your mouth, pulling you back to where you couldn’t see anything.

And where you couldn’t be seen.

Hard eyes glittered down at you, and you blinked rapidly, trying to will away scared tears. He huffed, near inaudible, and his gaze softened. A little bit. Releasing you again, he pointed firmly at you and then, yet again, made the sign for silence. You nodded shakily, twisting your fingers together.

Moments passed in complete silence but for your racing heart, much too long to be counted. You barely dared to shift your weight, let alone try to look out at the street again.

Moving slowly, Simon crowded you back, step by step, until your back hit the brick wall, catching at your clothes. You stared up at him, eyes wide, staying silent though your lips had parted. He stopped with barely any space between you, one foot between yours, hand catching your jaw. You couldn’t help the little shiver that went down your spine at the way he towered over you, easily eclipsing the rest of the world.

“Stay close,” was all he said before he stepped back, releasing you. Almost dizzy, you followed, stumbling a little on your first step. By the time you two left the alleyway, you felt steadier.

The remainder of the walk was silent, with you sticking close to Simon and occasionally giving directions.

You paused outside your building, glancing up at the big man, unsure what to do now. You were probably safe here.

But that “probably” caught in your head, left you feeling uncertain.

“Want me to walk you to your door?” The offer was quiet, yanking your gaze back to him.

You bit your lip and then nodded slowly. “If it’s no trouble?”

He huffed quietly and nodded for you to go first. You got into the elevator with a certain sense of deja vu, especially when he settled right next to you. Not across the elevator car, like any normal person. Nope, right next to you.

And you didn’t move away, didn’t tell him to move. Just stood with his warmth inches away the entire ride up to your floor.

“That one’s mine,” you said as you stepped off the elevator, pointing to your door.

Simon nodded and continued to follow you. So you unlocked the door and pushed it open, looking back to ask him if he wanted to come in.

Big hands landed on your hips, guiding you inside before turning you quickly. Your back hit the door and those hands landed on either side of your head as Simon loomed over you, caging you in.

“You like this,” he rumbled, low and dark. “Don’t you? Saw you earlier. Like it when someone throws you around? Holds you down?”

You swallowed, mind blank, heart racing. But not with fear.

“Asked you a question, dove.” He leaned in closer, one foot pushing between yours until you were quite thoroughly trapped between him and the door.

“I… maybe? I don’t… I’ve never…” You were pretty sure you were about to combust on the spot.

“Use your words, dove.”

You closed your eyes briefly, struggling, biting your lip. Your hands twisted into your skirt.

One big hand closed around both of your wrists, pulling your arms up over your head and holding you there. You gasped, eyes flying wide open again, to find his face right in front of yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, quiet and completely serious. “Tell me to back off, and I will.” He waited a beat, another. “But if you don’t say anything, I’m going to keep going until you say otherwise. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips.

“Verbal response, dove.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly around your wrists.

“I understand.”

"Good girl." He hummed, holding you in place easily as he lowered his head to nose your skin through his balaclava. You couldn't hold back the shudder at those words, and he rumbled a low laugh. "Like that, hm? We'll add it to the list."

You squirmed a little, gasping when he lifted his knee to press his thigh between your legs.

"Need something, dove?" The smirk was clear in his voice. "Gotta ask for it."

("Easy, Simon," Johnny whispered in his ear, though the want was clear in his voice. "Take it easy on her, aye?")

You licked your lips, twisting your fingers just for something to do, some outlet for the low simmering in you. "Can I…?" You trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Go on." Simon gripped your hip with his free hand, thumb smoothing over your skin, and when had he managed to get under your shirt?

"Can I kiss you?" You closed your eyes, burning under your skin. Your heart was definitely too soft for this - you didn't want to fool around with someone unless you knew them a little better. And in this particular case, that meant you wanted to kiss Simon.

There was silence from the man in front of you for the longest moment of your life. Then a soft huff. His hand left your hip, and for a wild moment you thought he'd back off and leave.

But lips landed on yours, soft but unyielding. You gasped and he wasted no time, licking into your mouth and dominating the kiss. You made a soft noise and he pressed closer, thigh pressing between your legs and prompting another noise from you.

"Good fucking girl," he rasped, low and pleased. You blinked your eyes open a little hazily to see the balaclava falling back into place, his eyes nearly black now.

You twisted your wrists again, caught between the desire to ask him to let you go, and the urge to just… let him. It was kind of… nice. Maybe. Even just the thought had warmth gathering in your cheeks and elsewhere.

"You do like this." His grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling your hands further up until you were up on your tiptoes, held firm between him and the door. "Fuck, dove. Too tempting."

"Is that good or bad?" The question slipped out without your permission, and you nearly choked on your tongue. "I–sorry, I didn't mean–"

"It's a good thing." Simon tipped his head, watching you closely. "You have no idea how good you look, do you?"

You couldn't answer that, just swallowing hard. But you didn't struggle.

He hummed, thoughtful. "Bet you'll look even better in bed." He pulled away from you suddenly enough that you swayed, but his hands kept you steady. “Which door?”

“This one.” Still reeling a little, you walked into your bedroom. Frankly, you were amazed you stayed upright, between the desire pooling between your legs and the mortification trying valiantly to get a grip on your head. “I–Are you sure–”

Simon’s hands landed on your hips again from behind, pulling you back into his chest. “Am I sure I want this?” he murmured, low and raspy. “I’m very sure, dove. Been sure since I saw you.”

Heat flared and you squirmed a little, unsure what to do with your hands. (It’s not like you did this often. Or ever. Johnny had been the first time in a long time, and that was very different from this.)

“Want help getting rid of these?” Simon tugged at your shirt and skirt, clothed nose brushing against your cheek.

“I… maybe?” You hated how uncertain you sounded.

Simon must have heard it too because he slowed, hands rubbing small, warm circles into your hips. “You can always say no,” he rumbled. “Always. Right?”

“Right,” you breathed, somehow reassured. “Then… Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.” He hummed, fingers making quick work of the buttons on your shirt, though he left it hanging open for now. Your skirt puddled on the floor at your feet moments later. "Now, unless you tell me to stop, I'm gonna ravish that gorgeous neck, and I'm going to fuck you."

The sound you made was embarrassingly loud, and your eyes slammed closed in mortification. But Simon just groaned softly, his hands on your hips pulling your back tight to his front so you could feel his bulge.

"Too sweet, dove," he rumbled into your ear, pulling you into a slow grind back against him. "Gonna let me ruin you?"

You gasped as his fingers shoved your panties down, straying over the newly-bared skin. "Y-yes."

Your shirt hit the floor on the other side of the room, and a moment later your bra followed. Teeth nipped at the skin just behind your ear as those big, warm hands cupped your breasts.

"Let's see how loud you can be for me," he growled, breath warm on your ear, before he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder. Your yelp caught somewhere between pain and desire, and you didn't want to admit how much you enjoyed that.

Between his fingers toying with your nipples and his teeth leaving marks in your neck, it didn't take long for you to start whimpering, squirming against him and reaching one hand back behind you. You paused when your fingers touched the fabric of his balaclava, hesitating.

"Just don't pull it off," he grunted, lips barely parting from your skin. "But if you need something to hold on to…" His hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you forward. You sucked in a breath when he more or less gently pushed you forward until your knees bumped your bed. One big hand at the nape of your neck guided your head down until your hands hit the bed and fisted in the blankets, holding you upright. "Fuckin' perfect, dove."

You squirmed again, far too warm, aching for more. "Simon…"

"Easy, dove." His hand smoothed from the nape of your neck all the way down your back in one long stroke, easy and warm. "I got ya." His teeth set against the nape of your neck, making you shiver, even as one big finger pressed into you. Your high-pitched noise would have been embarrassing if you had the brain power to think. As it was, everything had narrowed down to the two of you and your bed.

And then he bit down on the knob of your spine and you whined, arching your back and pushing yourself back on his finger. The low sound he made vibrated against your skin.

"Fuck," you gasped, fingers curling tighter in the blankets, dropping your head. "Big fingers."

He chuckled, low and rumbling, nudging his nose against the mark undoubtedly blooming on your skin. "Better get used to it," he growled, sliding a second finger in.

You gasped, wiggling your hips. Even just two fingers was a bit of a stretch, but it felt good. He felt good. Even the pain seemed to heighten the pleasure, making you more aware. His fingers curled in you, pulling a high moan from your throat.

"Could listen to you all night," he breathed against the skin of your back. He nipped at one spot, sharp and stinging, followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue.

"Maybe not all night," you muttered and then squeaked at a harder thrust from his fingers.

"Still have the energy to mouth off, huh?" He sounded amused, free hand sliding around to your front and down. "See how long that lasts." He scissored his fingers in you, stretching you wider, before setting a relentless pace. You quickly lost what little coherence you had, hips moving with his fingers, jerking when he pressed against your clit. "Much better," he purred low against your skin.

Your elbows gave out, sending your face into the bed and muffling your whines. His fingers just felt too good, hitting all the right spots in you and filling you deliciously.

"One more, dove," he murmured, lips trailing up behind your ear. "You can take it."

He didn't give you time to object (not that you would have), sliding a third finger in you. You gasped and shivered hard, eyelashes fluttering, pushing your hips back onto his fingers. You were so close, whining softly.

"Good fucking girl," he growled, low and rasping just behind your ear.

You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, clenching down tight around his fingers. His fingers didn't slow in you until you were whining from overstimulation, trying to jerk your hips away. Then he pulled his fingers from you with a lewd noise.

"Still want more?" He asked, almost gentle. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

"Just… gimme a sec," you murmured, still panting. Your thighs felt a little quivery.

One big hand smoothed down your back. "Take your time," he murmured.

You calmed slowly, listening to him behind you. You could hear his buckle clink, then a rip of plastic.

"Better?" Simon asked softly, his hand coming back to the nape of your neck.

"Mmhm." You blinked slowly, warmth curling in your belly again.

"Move up." He tapped your thigh, gently guiding you up until you were on your hands and knees on the bed. His weight dipped the mattress behind you, his gaze an almost physical weight.

You breathed slowly, tipping your head to glance back at him. He hadn't undressed, just pushing his pants and boxers out of the way, condom already on.

"Ready?" He asked, hand squeezing your hip.

For a moment, just a moment, you wondered what the hell you were doing. You didn't do stuff like this. But, well, he'd already been so good with his fingers…

So you nodded, bracing yourself a little more firmly. "Ready."

"Atta girl." He leaned down, the brief press of a kiss to the top of your spine surprising you, before he shifted behind you. The tip of his cock notched into place, and you tried to focus on your breathing as he pushed into you, slow and steady. The angle let you feel all of him, and you couldn’t hold back your moan if you tried. His hips pressed into your ass and he stilled, giving you a few moments.

“Simon–” you started, only to gasp as he pulled back, just as slow and steady.

“Yes, dove?” He sounded smugly amused, hands firm on your hips.

“Fuck,” you hissed, trying to squirm and only succeeding in getting him to hold you tighter.

“Gettin’ there.” His hips hit your ass again, still moving slow. This was a unique kind of torture, letting you feel him and do nothing else.

“Simon, please,” you begged, trying to move your hips back against him.

“Easy, dove.” Lips landed on the back of your shoulder, surprisingly tender. And then he bit down and you yelped, the pain-pleasure making you clench around him. His groan vibrated against your skin, the best kind of feedback loop. “Too tempting. You want more?”

“Please.” You tipped your head to look back at him, not that you could see much - he’d pulled his mask up across his nose.

He hummed acknowledgement and sat up again, holding still for a moment, adjusting his grip on you. Then he slammed into you, hard and fast, and you shouted. He didn’t relent even a little, holding you exactly where he wanted as he pounded into you. You could do nothing but hold tight to the sheets, keening. You could feel him so deep, almost achingly so, constantly riding the edge of pleasure and too much.

He hissed out a curse and one of his hands moved, looping under you and across your chest to grab your opposite shoulder. You were about to ask what he was doing when he hauled you upright until you were leaning back into his chest, thighs spread wide over his. You choked on a gasp, one hand grabbing his forearm, your other reaching behind you for his hip. Based on the plush give under your fingers, you got his ass instead.

Not that he minded, judging from the way his hips thrust up into you.

“You’re gonna come just like this,” he growled in your ear, low and filthy, even as the hand on your hip slid lower and inwards until his fingers could press against your clit. His arm banded across your chest kept you from falling forward again with the force of his thrusts, and you tipped your head back against his shoulder.

“Please,” you gasped, fingers tightening around him, nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, low and rough, ducking his head enough to bite under your ear. It felt like he was everywhere - reaching so deep you half-thought he’d leave an imprint of himself behind, solid and hot against your back, fingers holding tight to your shoulder. He rubbed tight circles over your clit and you came with a high whine, shuddering against him.

“Atta girl,” he muttered with a low groan. “Fuck!” He bit down on your shoulder, his hips stuttering before pressing up into you and stilling.

You loosened your grip on him, blinking slowly as you calmed. “Sorry,” you murmured, stroking over the nail marks you’d left on his arm.

He chuckled, holding you steady still. “Don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Still.” You gently tugged his arm until he released you with an amused huff. But you lifted his arm to kiss the marks. His breathing hitched behind you.

“Well, if that’s how you apologize, won’t say no to that.” He was amused, his other hand patting your thigh.

You smiled and kissed his palm. You couldn’t resist. “Need me to move?”

“Nah. You’re good.” He freed his hand, tugging his mask back into place.

This was… actually kind of nice. Feeling him soften inside you. Hmm. Something to explore later, maybe.

Yeah. As if you’d ever have an opportunity like this again.

But you did move after a minute, very carefully moving off of him before flopping face-first onto the bed.

He huffed a laugh, patting your ass. “Don’t smother yourself,” was all he said before he stood, the bed shifting with his movement. You didn’t look, giving him a bit of privacy until you heard the bathroom door close. Then you tossed your clothes in the laundry bin and pulled on a sleep shirt.

He emerged looking like nothing had happened, clothes righted. You kind of regretted that - you wanted some evidence on him, like he’d left at least a dozen marks on you. But you squashed that desire down, smiling up at him.

“Thank you. For walking me home.” You paused. “And for all the rest.”

He huffed another laugh. “Any time, dove. Keep outta trouble.”

You locked the front door again after he was gone and then stood there for a moment, back to the door, thinking back over the events of the night. Wow. Just wow.

Not that you were objecting.

–

“Simon,” Johnny growled into his ear. “Ye right bastard.”

“Distracted?” Simon purred, very smug as he walked back to their apartment.

“I still have to close,” Johnny hissed. “Fuck. Fuck! Those sounds…”

“You were right.” Simon grinned under his balaclava. “She does make the sweetest sounds.”

#listening in #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #18+#minors begone #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish

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