Red Rooms I Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

What you need pt. II

A/N: Smut. Hurt-angry-sad-Ghost smut.

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He didn't know why he was doing this to himself.

Something about self-destructive patterns.

Sleep-deprivation.

Pent-up anger.

And a good fuck would be nice every now and then, he could not deny it.

Ghost stopped his car in the empty parking lot and remained inside for a short moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Something seemingly impossible for him at this point.

He checked his pocket for the condoms and his phone one last time before entering his very own demise.

The rain was pouring down on him, wetting his usual leather jacket and skull balaclava.

There was absolutely no justifying in why he agreed to come when you wrote him an hour ago.

As soon as you opened up the door for him, he left the crumbling rest of his dignity outside.

In just a matter of minutes you were sitting on his lap dressed in nothing but a black, silk dress. One he has seen before. He has felt before, his hands running up and down your sides eagerly as your lips were pressed against each other with such strength that Ghost was certain that the velvet seat he was sitting on will fall over from the force.

"Whats with the mask," you hissed inbetween sloppy, heated kisses with his mask pulled up to his nose.

"You know me." being his only response before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling on it, revealing your neck to him. His eyes narrowed to look for the spot that would get the most yelps out of you.

"Where's the children," he grunted with searching, hungry eyes.

"With Grace...I needed this night to myself..."

"To yourself...and then you text me?" he began licking along the side of your throat, feeling your legs clench around his lap.

"Please just...Play along, Simon..I need this..." the desperate tone of your voice making him think that he might not be the only one with self-destructive tendencies.

After your break-up, that someone you were seeing quickly turned out to be an asshole.

Leaving you alone & busy with work and the twins.

Your best friend Grace would let you stay at her place as often as you needed but it was practically impossible to manage with two 3-year-olds in the midst of it all.

So the times you did stay home, you'd occupy the second loft that you had purchased on the same floor as Simon's, your original plan being to connect them into one. Now you were glad that you didn't as it gave you some personal space and though you lived close, you could keep distance.

And with the break-up, there also came the break-up regrets. The thought spirals.

And soon, the first knock on Simon's loft at night, when you had just brought the kids to bed.

Followed by another one, when they were both in kindergarten and you had just experienced another one of your failed dates.

It quickly became a weekly thing; late night or daytime visits that would just have one purpose: To let off some steam for the both of you.

Leaving each other's spaces as soon as the deed has been done.

It did not take long for your red cheek to be pressed against the soft velvet of the couch in the backstage, the slapping of his body slamming against yours filling the empty club.

What was once the sound he needed to get off, was now fueling him with pure rage. Hearing you moan out his name as if nothing happened, as if he still belonged to you. Everytime it would slip off your lips, he would be extra harsh. Every time you would try to hold his hand, he would place another stinging smack across your ass. Until eventually, he could not take it anymore. The feelings he tried to bury threatening to crawl back up, so he grabbed the lace panties off the couch and bent over to fill your filthy mouth with them, continuing to fuck you brainless.

As his hand grabbed your chin forcefully and squeezed your cheeks together you let out a muffled yelp. You tried reaching his hand with yours again but he simply would...could not let you, pulling you closer to his face.

He could see you try to open your eyes, failing miserably as he sent sparks through your abdomen and you came on his cock like that, biting down on your own thong with his pulsating length inside of you. Seeing you on all fours in front of him with your mouth stuffed, that picture burned itself into his head. Satisfied to see you whining for him like that after all the things you said. After breaking the remaining bits of heart he had left. He digged his fingers into the skin surrounding your waist as he reached his own climax, grunting into the back of your neck in exhaustion. For the blink of an eye, there was peace.

Peace that's drowned by shame as soon as his cock slid out of your heat and he pulled off the condom with one swift motion, leaving to the black-tiled bathroom to toss it away.

When he came back and pulled up his fly, your naked body was all curled up on the sofa, looking at him through glassy eyes.

What you saw was a man that regret coming here.

What followed, was silence.