gkghhh imagine a love triangle between mc, devan and m
M is much more restraint than Devan, so Devan would go all out to get MC's attention (by being a menace, mostly) and M would act behind their back.
As of now it's very much impossible for M to pursue anything with MC so they'd politely step back and count down the days until Devan left this world. Ironically, of course.
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listening to ghost and soap infamous “are you ugly?” conversation and not being able to stop thinking about what ghost meant by “quite the opposite”
you’re used to having him wearing his mask even whenever you two escape to blow off some steam, but since that day you’ve been building up some courage to ask the same thing soap tried to.
“take it off” you murmur with your lips inches away from his mask while setting a pace riding him.
Ghost, who was spread out on the couch raised his head, “y’r gettin’ spoiled, brat. last week was a kiss now you want my whole face?” he gives your ass a mean slap.
“’s not fair” you pout, whilst you are completely naked every time, simon only removes his shirt when you beg, maybe lowers his pants down to his ankles instead of just enough to let out his cock, but that’s it.
“Aight, want me to lose the mask?” he takes your black shirt, folding it sloppily until it’s narrow then he puts around your eyes tying on the back of your head.
“simon! no!” you raise your hands to undo it, he’s faster though, taking both your wrists and holding in the air. you hear some fumbling and suddenly your palms are being tickled by a stubble, you gasp realizing under your hands is ghost’s uncovered face.
“keep ridin’” he demands, adjusting his body to lay lower and thrusting you from bellow as a reminder he’s still inside.
you bite your lips, needing to put a hand on his chest as support, your other hand explores his face trying to paint a mental image of him.
his jawline is sharp, a few uneven parts along his skin, probably scars, there’s more hair on his chin than the rest of his jaw and to imagine simon with a blond goatee make you clench.
“shit” he curses tightening the grip on your hips, “what’re you so excited ‘bout, private? huh?” he pinches your nipple. you run your fingertips on his bottom lip, it’s thin and he could use some lip balm, but the excitement about touching him in such a intimate way gives you hope to one day convince him to let you apply lip balm on his lips, “behave” he growls.
“‘m behaving, sir” you smile sheepishly forgetting he can actually see your face. ghost takes your hand, making you close it and leaving just your index up. under the improvised blindfold you frown, next his lips are wrapping around your finger and his tongue is under your digit.
your clit throbs, not expecting this from your lieutenant.
“fuck, Lt.” you arch your back, approaching your orgasm.
“faster” both his hands are gripping your ass, he groans and you feel the vibration on your finger. you obey as one does, slapping your ass on his mighty thighs, as he sucks your finger, even letting some saliva run down your palm.
“si-mon ‘m close” you lose yourself on the sensation, seeing nothing makes you more aware of the stretch his cock gives you, not to mention the sounds your lieutenant is trying to hold. with one last suck he removes your finger, moving it to your own clit, where he presses it on your bud.
“cum then” you’re so close, but that’s one thing you still want.
“can i kiss you?” you edge yourself waiting for his answer, he sighs and you take it as a negative response, but his other hand leaves your ass as he guides your face to his where his lips awaited yours, he immediately pushes his tongue in, that’s merely your second kiss and you’re already coming.
“louder, i think the terrorists haven’t heard ya” he teases when you moan a high pitched note.
“fuck you, sir” you’re still riding him intensely, knowing he’s close too. he bites your lip, forcing your hips up and down faster and groaning as he fills your insides.
by the time you remove the blindfold, his mask is back on and you sigh in defeat, moving away from his lap and getting one last spank.
“goatee” you whisper in soap’s ear as he is about to eat his morning scrambled eggs.
“wut?” he turns to you.
“he has a goatee” you wink and leave to get your own breakfast. poor johnny is still processing what was said when ghost enters the room, later than usual.
soap drops his fork.
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