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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 6 months

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Reign down on me - Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mutt?”

Your breaths were coming in hard pants, your body was worn to shreds. It took everything in you to look up at the angry face above, and when you finally mustered enough strength to tilt your head, you were met with deeply disapproving eyes. For once they didn’t rattle you, you’d already seen something so much worse.

“She’s dead,” you murmured, looking back down at the empty eyed body across from you.

“And you’re about to be too if you don’t get yourself together, stupid dog!”

You’d been yanked up and forced to keep running, shoved out in front of corners and into oncoming fire. It was a miracle you hadn’t joined your old teammate on the floor - not that you really saw it that way. You drew the enemy’s fire and allowed your current handler to get to exfil unharmed, you in your sorry hollow state had been shot in the chest, or the vest rather. Either way you were terribly struggling to breathe when you were eventually lugged along into the helicopter.

It was difficult to remember much in the days after that. Your memory was a blurry haze, tugged along and shoved into transport and various different rooms until you were abandoned in an infirmary to heal.

The main thing you remember is how the tiger girl you’d been fighting alongside had fallen, and no one else had batted an eye. She had been one of the best hybrids you’d worked with, someone the soldiers had clamoured to get onto your team, and none of them gave a shit when she’d died. The same girl that had so earnestly been teaching you and given you valuable advice for the field was no more than a few hazily remembered lessons and an empty vessel.

The thought burned in your mind when you’d laid on the hospital bed, keeping your eyes narrowed to tiny slits and your tail twitching as you recovered. You’d been too young to actually be assigned to a combat mission, but you’d been sent along with the unit that day because they thought they were doing a routine water run to a nearby village and they’d wanted you to observe.

Now you were marred with your first battle scar and laden with the knowledge that it didn’t matter how good you did - you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones left behind to rot.

“Move along, mutt!”

Maddox loomed over you and smacked you with his club, sending you sprawling as you refused to run his training drill. You’d since recovered and been cleared for work once more, but that was just what the doctors said. You had a different opinion entirely.

“I’m not doing this,” you said quietly, hefting yourself back up to a standing position.

“What?” Maddox’s voice came through in a chilling growl.

The sounds of the rest of the hybrid’s running the training exercise he’d set echoed all around you. You watched them scrambling around, flying through the course like clay pigeons, and blinked slowly. They were all just training to be better canon fodder. What was the point? You were all going to meet the same end, whether you died honourably fighting or were shot down into a pink mist from where you stood, no matter how good any of you were it wouldn’t matter. You’d all just die anyway.

“You heard me,” you growled, puppy voice still too young to actually have much of an impact.

Maddox wasn’t used to being defied. From day one you’d all tried to do what you could to appease him, had run around trying to make sure you weren’t drawing his ire. None of you liked his horrible booming voice when he scrambled at you, you were all afraid of his club and being at the receiving end of one of his thrashings. What was the point?

He looked incensed, he was the most angry you’d ever seen him. He smacked you a few more times, landing heavy blows onto your back, thighs and butt, but you weren’t anymore motivated to get going. Instead you lay uselessly on the ground and cried out, ears drawing back as you prepared for his worst.

“Get the fuck up! Do as you’re told, dog, no exceptions. Now move!”

You whined, but stayed where you were. Even while your back was on fire, even while he still beat dents into you, you didn’t feel anymore convinced to go along with any of it anymore. You just wanted to give up. To stop having to live through the pain, and just accept that it would be all there was.

In the back of your mind you registered that everyone had stopped running, could feel the ground stop rumbling with their desperate footsteps and had all stopped to watch the spectacle. Though you didn’t really think much about it.

It took a few more blows, but eventually Maddox seemed to recognise that you were quite happy for him to mash you into a fine pulp. His lesson wasn’t having any effect. So he left you on the ground and walked away a few paces, his shadow falling over your face and draping you with the weight of it.

You choked out a sob and watched as he addressed the room. His words weren’t immediately intelligible to you, you were too lost in your brain fog still. Everything was dull, and noises were like far away recordings playing on scratchy speakers. Your head was a swelling water balloon fit to burst.

“-see what happens when you decide you’re not going to do what your commanding officer tells you.”

Thwack.

You heard the sound, but you didn’t feel anything. You tilted your head, ears twitching confusedly as you tried to work out why the pain didn’t reach you. The sound of the wailing banshee scream following soon after clued you into why your bones weren’t rattling with anymore pain.

“Please, sir! Please!”

It was like a plastic sheet had been melted from your eyes. The white hot screech of the voice burned through you and you scrambled up with a shock, watching on with horror as one of your fellow hybrids was getting whacked like nothing else. A wheezing breath gushed in through your lungs and you screamed in unison with the poor boy, begging Maddox to please stop.

“Oh now you’re willing to plead for forgiveness? Now you’re ready to participate again? Watch and let this be a lesson - You don’t decide when you’re done! You do as you’re fucking told!”

“No! Please, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir. Please, please ple-”

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup, hey, shhh. Wake up, Pup.”

You felt raw, throat vibrating with the last of your unconscious screams, your mind raced as you struggled to register your surroundings. Soft lamplight bathed the room in a warm, hazy glow, and all around you were rumpled blankets, all thrown around the place in splatters of blue as if a tower of paint cans had exploded. Most startling of all though, was the behemoth of a man right in front of you; sitting on your bed and looking down at you with a worried expression.

You backed away to the wall when you finally noticed him, panting and growling like hell when you searched through your bleary mind and couldn’t recognise him. His eyes were like molten gems, his long face and pouting lips drawn into a picture of concern. There was something almost familiar about him, if you squinted and ignored the shock of blonde hair that gently curled on top of his head (something told you that you weren’t used to seeing that). The only thing that stopped you from jumping him immediately was the calming scent of citrus peels.

“Who the fuck are you?” you growled, curling your hands into fists. “What do you want with me?”

The man blinked slowly, his eyebrows raising from the gentle frown he’d been wearing and twitching up into surprise. He smiled uneasily then, the look seeming foreign on that big scarred up face, one of the scars at his lips puckered with the effort it took to move over the muscle.

“Shit, sorry. It’s me, it’s Ghost,” the man sighed, his accent washing over you like a warm wave. “Forgot my mask.”

You gasped, feeling all your muscles release their tension at once as you slid down the wall and into a weary slump. It was ok. He wasn’t some horrible soldier come to drag you away to a new mission, or an enemy looking to startle you before they bagged a kill. It was just Ghost, and Ghost was safe. And Ghost looked… well you were too tired to really get a solid grip on what you thought of how Ghost looked.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked, only speaking when you were confident you wouldn’t stutter.

“You were screamin’, Pup. You looked like you were fighting off possession or somethin’, that must’ve been some bad dream you were having,” Ghost said softly, gently running a hand over the top of your dewy head.

You gritted your teeth and used the butt of your palms to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks, still feeling your throat burn from all the shrieking. It had been a long time since you’d had one of those dreams, or rather memories, but you knew well enough you’d have been loud. You realised you’d probably woken him if he was coming to you bare faced.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, tail tucking between your legs in realisation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, bringing his hand down to stroke over your cheek. “I’ve woken up with plenty of those myself.”

“But you…you’ve shown your face to me when you didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away guiltily.

Your toes curled and your body froze up, your instincts gone haywire as you tried to process what was happening. Was he going to punish you now? Would he beat you until you forgot what he looked like? You shuddered at the thought of your dreams piercing through into reality.

“No, don’t be sorry, darlin’. I’d have taken it off for you sooner or later anyway,” he shrugged.

You bit your lip, unconvinced that this was the case. Given that his team didn’t think much of the mask, it was clear that he wore it often. He probably didn’t like to be bare faced around other people. Maybe he wanted to keep his face a secret.

“Didn’t think it’d effect you this much,” he chuckled, chucking you under your chin. “I did warn you.”

“You warned me?”

“Mhmm. Told you I was bloody handsome.”

Nothing could help the snort that burst from your nose. That then descended into full blown laughter, your body lightening from the growing load that your mind posed. You wrapped your hands round your knees, in an attempt to contain the giggles, and only stopped when you saw the gentle smile that sprouted back onto Ghost’s lips.

“There you go. Better now, huh?”

You nodded slowly and smiled back at him. For some reason mirroring him felt like the easiest thing in the world. It was like a warm glow had burst from him to you, softening your sharp thoughts and turning your body to jelly. You’d be able to sleep again as if nothing had woken you, usually you would stay up until light broke through your curtains.

“You wanna talk about anything before I get back to my beauty rest?”

“No, I’m good,” you said hurriedly, not wanting to relive everything you’d dreamed again.

“Alright then…You get back to sleep, you’ve got another big day ahead. Try not to scare the piss out of me again for another few hours at least,” He sighed.

You nodded, scooting back over so that you could lie back at the head of your bed. However before you could angle yourself down, Ghost drew you into a side hug. At first you resisted it, curled your hands around his arm so that you could stop whatever harm might come your way, but when there was none. Your eyes grew heavier as he held you, his body heat seeped down into your bones and it tempted you ever deeper into the restful darkness.

You let your hands drop and nuzzled into him. There wasn’t anything to fear.

“S’my good, Pup,” Ghost mumbled, releasing you seconds later.

You sank into bed afterwards, falling into a deep sleep as if a switch had been flicked. There were no more disturbances after that.

-🐺-

“Not so hard, Steamin’ Jesus!”

Soap’s whizzed right past your ears like a bullet, you were too focused on getting to the target point. Paintballs splattered overhead, loud noises rang out from the speakers that’d been set up, and your heart was racing. Everything perfectly combined to drive you wild and send all coherent thought elsewhere. The only reason you stayed put behind your current cover was because you knew Ghost was watching - because of some foreign underlying need to make him proud.

“Johnny, you have to take control.”

“I’m fuckin’ tryin’! Your bloody sled dog has other ideas,” Soap huffed, growling down the line.

Ghost’s chuckle rattled around the comms like a swarm of bats. The ever present hand on the front of your neck dug into your collarbone a little, but still you persisted and pushed forward through the resistance. Soap had no idea what he was doing, had no idea how to control your advancement through the fake field.

“Sled dog tendencies aside, you’re not holding em’ right,” Ghost chastised. “Stop the exercise!”

The splat of the last paintball echoed dully around the room and all at once your more human senses returned. The sharp fuzz in your ears dissipated and the blurring at the edge of your peripheries came staggeringly back into focus. You almost sent Soap crashing when you stopped fighting his hold, though luckily for him he swivelled just in time to keep his feet on solid ground.

“Fuckin’ here we go,” Soap muttered, releasing your collar.

You frowned up at him in question, but you didn’t get an opportunity to wonder what he was so pissed about. Ghost jumped into the little arena he’d created and crossed the floor, patting your vest before he took a hold of you himself.

“You’re holdin’ Pup round the front like this,” Ghost said, sliding his hand around your collar to illustrate his point. “You’re just choking them and driving them forward to get away from ya’ or get to the checkpoint.”

“Because your precious little Angel keep’s growlin’ and turnin round when I hold the collar round the back like you do. I feel like I’m about to get my face rearranged again!”

Ghost sighed and put his hand on Soap’s arm, driving the other man to give a cursory glance down at you before fixing a hard look on the Lieutenant. There was no mistaking the sharp little shake of his head he gave, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Ghost put his hand down, holding it up in mock surrender before it fell completely.

“It’s because you’re holding on too tight, Johnny,” Ghost explained, his voice growing softer. “You don’t have to. Pup won’t hurt you.”

“You sure about that?”

“Johnny,” Ghost growled. “Don’t say anything stupid, now.”

You looked up, alarmed at the tone Ghost was taking. You didn’t really blame Soap, or anyone else, for being afraid of you. A lot of people were - anyone who knew your reputation at least, and from that little comment you surmised that Soap was well aware of it. Though from the way Ghost was acting, it was as if Soap had told him he was going to shoot you. His eyes were stuck in a stormy glare and his full height was rigidly stretching up over the Sergeant.

“You know this is difficult for me,” Soap said, jaw as taught as a piano wire.

“I know…” Ghost sighed. “But it’ll only be harder if you keep going like this, learning to control a wolf the wrong way will only get you both hurt. You’ve gotta dig deep here, push past the bad memories. This one’ll never hurt you like that.”

“So you keep saying,” Soap grumbled. “Why don’t you try tellin’ them to fuckin’ behave when they’re being handled rather’n having a go at me.”

A creeping feeling of shame crept through your mind, suddenly you felt like a very small child in the middle of a fight between your parents. The tiny little voice you hadn’t heard in so long chimed just as true as it did then, They’re fighting about me again. Your ears folded back straight against your head and you leaned closer into Ghost, accidentally catching eyes with Soap as he registered your movement.

Soap’s eyes softened.

“It’s not that simple. I have a plan in the works though,” Ghost said carefully, shifting his gaze to you as he felt you press against him, and then back at Soap. “It’s gonna take a bit to undo years of shit training, yeah? I told you how it’d be before, those shitheads at Branhaven always train up hybrids to look as showy as possible for their superiors. That means they pull like crazy and bark and growl up a riot while they work because it looks effective and scary to the knobheads who don’t need to handle them. I need you all to learn how to handle Pup as they are now before I’ve worked with them, and then you’ll be prepared for anything…’sides, its always you n me together, Johnny, remember? Realistically you’re not gonna have to actually handle them on the field, you just need to be prepared to.”

The ‘Just in case’ that eluded his last sentence was silent.

The whole time you couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that Ghost was unusually…tender for a man in charge over the Sergeant. Normally when people bitched at the higher ups in your base they’d be shouted at and told to man up or fuck off. Ghost was actually explaining himself to Soap, trying to rationalise what he was doing as if he somehow owed it to him. He treated Soap like he treated you, ensuring he was able to calm down and trying to fill him in so he could take comfort in knowing what was happening.

The treatment seemed to work just as well on Soap as it did you. He huffed out a defeated breath and relaxed, looking from you to Ghost while the irate cloud above him dispersed and became lost in the gentle atmosphere.

“Fine. Can you show me what to do again?”

“Atta boy,” Ghost said, grin evident in his voice. “Hand here, and legs nice and stable. You need to keep moving forward at a nice even pace, you have to set the right speed. Soon as Pup tries to push on ahead, you grip the back of their neck like that.”

You growled as you felt Ghost put pressure on your scruff, instinctively feeling the work drive build up within you. He just shook his head and gave you an unamused stare for your efforts.

“The growling’s all just noise. Stupid noise,” Ghost said, intentionally setting his eyes on you, “but there’s no intention of threat behind it - not while we’re in charge.”

“What do you mean ‘not while we’re in charge’?” Soap asked, making a face.

“Pup won’t have any reason to hurt us. We’re not gonna go yanking tails and hitting like fuckin’ children when we don’t get our way.”

“Wh- y’mean that was a commanding officer that did that?” Soap asked, motioning to your crooked tail.

“Like I said - shit training. C’mon, take the collar.”

Soap didn’t quite look like he’d recovered from the shock of being told about your tail. He gingerly reached out and took your collar with a frown set heavily into his face. You wondered if it was because he really pitied you that much, or if it was because he thought you might take out your anger on him. You leaned more toward the latter reasoning. Despite his reservations though, he was able to do as Ghost asked this time.

“Good, that’s it, Johnny.”

Soap visibly puffed up from the praise. His grip on you tightened. He was more sure of himself now, he marched ahead and set you into an even pace, the rhythm catching onto your feet contagiously. Naturally there were still a few moments where you wanted to pull forward and rush through, but now that Soap was placing his trust in Ghost’s intuition, you were gently guided into keeping within his step.

“Good Pup, keep it up!”

Soap didn’t immediately latch onto what Ghost had told him about your growling, he still wrenched himself back a few times after correcting you. The horrible tractor-like sound would comically twist his features. However this time, he was actually able to get to the checkpoint with you. Then after a few more trials, you were both flying down the course, high on Ghost’s praises and untouched by any paintball that tried to come your way.

After the fourth time he called for a break, roughly crossing his hands into a T shape while he doubled over and panted and puffed for air. His signature sage scent wafted strongly from him now, invading your senses and forcing you back a step or two.

A discreet smile stole its way onto your face, a smug one if you were honest. There was a steady tension starting to warm in your legs, but you were no where near over extension. Apparently all the breakfast and rest you’d gotten had done you wonders, because you felt like you could keep going all day and all night, maybe longer than that. It made you wonder if maybe Price and Ghost didn’t have a point to all the nice things they were doing for you afterall.

“You did well, Soap,” Ghost chuckled, wandering back onto the course with a swagger to his step. “You too, Pup. Reckon you’ll be nice and warmed up for Price and Garrick now.”

“Christ, Pup’s gonna do this two more times?” Soap asked, looking over at you in wonder.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed.

“You not tired?” Soap asked, directing his question toward you..

You laughed at that, unsure as to why he’d be so shocked you were going to keep going. Normally you’d spend your whole days training when you weren’t on an active mission. Running and sparring were practically all you knew. If you were to tire out early, you’d be punished for it, blamed for not getting enough sleep or not eating your shitty MREs. Stopping wasn’t in the equation.

“I can go all day,” you shrugged.

“Christ, and they tell me I’m hyperactive.”

-🐺-

Overall impressed with your performance that day, Ghost had insisted on dragging you out to a shopping villiage, or as you now thought of it - a torture desensitisation arena. Even later on at night, there were so many people around: screaming children that were moaning about being tired and hungry, teenagers laughing like hyenas, couples arguing over what they should and shouldn’t spend their money on. It didn’t help that there were so many busy shop fronts as well, colours and flashing lights and products you wouldn’t even know what to do with. It was a circus of too many stimuli and you were stuck at it’s roaring centre, sticking to Ghost like a fly on tape.

As soon as he’d parked up you’d demanded to know why he’d brought you there, not able to help the rising panic at being taken somewhere new. He’d explained that it was time to buy you some much needed casual clothes. Personal items. At the mention of that dreaded subject, you’d tried to protest and remind him about getting your brand new stack of clothes from the quartermaster, but Ghost had just snorted and said that he wasn’t taking you everywhere in your uniform. He didn’t care for the looks it would get him - said the man wearing a black medical skull mask over his face.

Undeterred by your saying that he didn't need to waste money on you, Ghost all but yanked you into all clothes shops, leading you by the hand and forcing you to pick casual clothes that you liked from the small selection the hybrid sections offered. It was an exercise made to humiliate, you’d thought, you had no idea how to pick clothes for yourself that weren’t standard issue - had no idea what colours and materials and fits went together with what. He’d made you pick what felt good in the end, said that Soap had told him the important thing was picking something comfortable - it didn’t narrow your search by very much.

Propelled by the thought of getting to leave if you just compiled, you eventually settled on some blue vans trainers, a cosy pullover hoodie, two new pyjama sets, a couple of pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts that weren’t too adventurous - save for the one that had some illustrated plants on it. Even that little amount felt like far too much, overwhelming you with how much choice you’d have when your promised downtime would come. Though every time you asked if you’d picked enough, Ghost would just fix you with a stony look that told you to keep going.

Then as if that wasn’t enough, he took you over to a bookshop as well, claiming you needed something to entertain yourself with in your downtime. Even when you told him you’d managed alright up till that point. However, when you were left to explore so that Ghost could go pick something for himself, it wasn’t the books there that you were most taken by.

“What’ve you got there then?”

You froze, shoulders bunching as you heard Ghost’s voice softly break your awed silence and looked guiltily down at the little puppy teddy you were holding. You weren’t supposed to be looking at that- that’s what you figured when you saw his shadow cross your path. A picture of his sneering face crossed your mind’s eye, darkened by that unruly blonde fringe of his.

What were you supposed to say to him? After blankly looking at a few of the books, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over to the little displays of plushies, and had slowly gravitated toward it when you saw the little dog that was now in your hands.

The dog’s fur was so unbelievably soft and its little spotted face reminded you of one of your favourite cartoons from when you were small. It called out to you and lured you in with the reminder of some old theme song that played in your head, made you pick it up and stroke its squishy black and white tummy with a smile plastered all over your face.

“I got distracted, sorry,” you murmured, gently placing it amongst its spotted siblings.

Ghost came round to your side and picked up the same puppy you’d been holding. You tilted your head in surprise and watched as he did the same as you, stroking the soft tummy while inspecting it. It looked comically smaller in his hands though, like a newborn pup.

“You want him?”

Your ears perked in surprise when he spoke. Finally you chanced a look up at him and felt your cheeks warm when you made eye contact, thoroughly embarrassed that you’d been caught. Though he didn’t look judgemental like you’d thought he would, instead he just stared at you earnestly over his black medical mask and gave you a chance to speak.

“I…um...” you weren’t sure what to say.

Of course you wanted him. Every little instinct in you wanted to take the toy and hold it and cuddle it and never let go. However that wasn’t the kind of behaviour befitting of a military class hybrid like you, and it was the kind of thing you’d have been endlessly mocked, if not punished for before.

Soldiers don’t cuddle their teddy bears and blankets, they make their beds quickly and efficiently and don’t concern themselves with such stupid frivolities!

“It’s not a trick question, Pup. No wrong answer,” Ghost supplied, holding the puppy out to you encouragingly.

You breathed out a sigh, but your chest didn’t feel any less heavy. Even if it was such a silly decision to make, it still felt like such a big undertaking. If you said yes and took it, would Ghost think less of you? You already thought less of you for wanting it. You were already filled with judgement, the voices of all the superiors that had ever disciplined you mocking you in one big evil choir.

Stupid little baby wolf.

You whined, but even despite yourself, you took it and held it to your chest.

“Hey, you deserve to have things of your own, that’s what tonight’s all about,” Ghost said, gently setting his hand on your shoulder as he did so. “You deserve to exist outside of the military, to be more than a war dog. If this makes you happy, then we should get ‘im.”

You wanted to keel over then as you rolled your eyes, let your whole body collapse with the motion. This dog at least was a simple decision in terms of what you liked, much easier than when you’d been standing in front of all those dreaded clothes racks, but it didn’t make finalising it any easier. Not when your feelings were colliding like waves against a harbour wall, one side seemingly solid while the other corroded it.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not supposed to want things like this,” you mumbled, holding the teddy out in front of yourself again like it was some kind of alien object.

“Why not?” he chuckled.

“Because it’s for children,” you said dryly.

“It’s not for children,” he scoffed. “There’s no rules on who gets to buy cuddly toys. Anyway, you clearly want the little fella, so we’re getting him.”

You frowned, looking confusedly down at the dog again.

“But It’s a distraction…All of this stuff is,” you uttered, feeling Maddox’s voice speak through you like a spell had been cast. “It’ll take my mind off important things and get everyone hurt.”

You thought back to the kid in the bunk next to you, the one that had cried on the first day because they couldn’t have their teddy bear to sleep with. Maddox had lectured you all then and there, almost shouting the fur off your ears, saying that hybrid soldiers couldn’t let anything get in the way of them functioning. Needing a teddy bear to sleep wouldn’t fly when you were overseas and catching bullets because you were sleep deprived, reading books to escape your miserable new lives would get you killed when your heads were still stuck in them, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

“You don’t think we all need distractions sometimes?” Ghost asked. “Distractions make life worth living, and you’re no less deserving of that than anyone on the team. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. In fact, you were arguing a point that wasn’t even yours. So, in response, you shrugged and traced one of the puppy’s patches.

“I think you care about me like…a weird amount,” you mumbled.

“A weird amount?” Ghost scoffed, hiding a crinkly eyed smile behind his mask. “Why’s it weird to care about you, huh?”

You shrugged again.

“Ok, listen. You’ve been all twisted up by those idiots at your last base and I want you to know that I’m not gonna legitimise a single thing that they’ve taught you. This is what it’s going to be like now, this is what you get for coming in everyday and working your arse off. The fact that you’ve been given no compensation and been run so badly into the ground by those cretins is nothing short of appalling. Believe me when I tell you that I know it’s not as simple as flicking a switch and getting used to good treatment - it won’t happen just because I tell you it’s all over now and I understand that. Just…let me give you a little bit of comfort, yeah? Just to show you how things should be. Just enjoy a distraction or two and see that it won’t be life ending, and it’s not gonna get taken away from you. I promise you’ll be fine”

Your throat was too thick with emotion to answer. So instead of making a fool out of yourself you nodded your assent and looked down at your new prize with wonder. How long had it been since you’d owned something that didn’t have any function or use on the battlefield? How long since you’d held something so soft?

“Now…did you actually look at any books or did you just stand and bully yourself for wanting something nice?”

You jumped when Ghost’s grizzled voice sounded out and brought your mind back to task, shaking your head of all your musings. Choosing books - right. All at once, the multicoloured aisles came back to view and all the people in them, the room filled out around you and made you hold your puppy down low at your side and out of view.

“Yeah, I um- I think I found something cool.”

-🐺-

That night Ghost let you stay up in bed for a little bit to read. Leaving you nestled in your swarm of blankets sitting side by side with your new friend as the plush sat up against the pillows with you. Your eyes poured over the artwork of your new graphic novels in wonder, admiring the bold colours and thick lines, turning the glossy pages ever so slowly as if your heart would stop beating when you got to the end of the book.

When you ended the first chapter you smiled down at the little dog rather childishly and bit your lip. It was silly to name inanimate objects, it didn’t take someone standing over you and shouting at you to know that, though you couldn’t help it when the name seemed to cling to him with an unshakable grip. Simon. You’d name him Simon after the main character in the story. It seemed to suit the little black and white dog just as much as it did the hybrid boy, and now there was no changing it - unfortunately for you.

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader #reign down on me

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blingblong55 · 6 months

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The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations:

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

----------------------

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls.

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw.

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms.

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death.

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart.

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future.

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours.

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told.

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left.

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force.

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war.

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs.

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware.

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him.

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem.

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it.

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband.

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear.

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you.

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ]

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun.

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover.

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break.

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband.

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence.

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy.

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states.

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased.

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

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hyperactively-me · 6 months

Text

king!ghost x reader -- attack

warnings: physical violence, blood, stitches, torture tactics

The village bustled with activity as you and King Simon strolled through its narrow cobblestone streets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the local bakery, and the vibrant colors of market stalls caught your eye. It was a very rare occasion for the both of you to venture into the heart of the village, usually both preoccupied with matters within the palace. It was even more rare that you two were out in the village without an entourage of knights. No, it just you and Simon, Simon and you.

Every so often, you had ventured into the village, but you were always accompanied by Soap and another lower-rank knight, usually one that was in training. You never really minded their company, but every so often you had a quiet yearning to be able to go out into the village by yourself. A queen can dream.

“Are you sure about this, love?” Simon asked, a protective instinct flickering in his eyes. “I usually have a knight accompany you for a reason.”

You grinned, wrapping your arm around Simon’s. “Oh, stop worrying. I just want to be here like any other person. No need for all the fanfare today. Besides, I have you by my side.”

Simon chuckled, his concern easing as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. You were right, after all. He was perfectly capable of protecting you.

As you and Simon continued your leisurely walk through the village, the atmosphere felt light, and the people, recognizing you both, greeted you warmly. As you wandered deeper into the village, absorbing its sights and sounds, the simplicity of the day felt refreshing.

As you and Simon continue your leisurely walk through the village, you both come across a path leading into a more secluded area of the village.

“Never been this way before,” you hum before dragging him down the street.

Intrigued by the path less traveled, you decided to explore the more secluded corners of the village. The sounds of the bustling market gradually faded away, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of villagers going about their daily chores.

The path meandered through quaint cottages adorned with colorful flowers. It was a picturesque scene, and you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of it. Simon, too, seemed to enjoy the view, humming with pleasure at the landscape.

However, just as you were immersed in the tranquil surroundings, the peace dissipated. From the shadows emerged a figure, their face obscured by a hood. In a flash, the hooded figure unsheathed a sword, charging toward you and Simon with alarming speed.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in. He swiftly stepped in front of you and pushed you back, drawing his sword. The villagers, noticing the danger, scattered in a panicked frenzy.

But before Simon could fully react, driven by an instinctual need to protect, you pushed him aside, placing yourself directly between him and the charging assailant. The sword struck you on your lower right side, the pain instantaneous and sharp.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pain erupts across your abdomen. You let out a cry, collapsing to the ground. The world around you blurred, and the anguished yell of Simon pierced through the haze.

The hooded assailant, realizing their attack had been foiled by you jumping in front of Simon, attempted to flee. However, some good samaritans rushed over and tackled the attacker to the ground, apprehending the spy before they could escape.

Without second thought, Simon dropped to the ground, kneeling beside you, his hands stained with your blood as he moved to flip you on your back. Panic surges through his whole being, his face growing pale.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a million pounds.

His hands tremble as he applies pressure to your wound, the blood seeping through the rip in your dress.

“Simon, it hurts,” you mutter, your voice hoarse, pain flooding your senses like never before.

Simon’s eyes filled with terror as he desperately tried to assess the extent of your injury.

“I know, I know,” he mutters.

The villagers, now realizing the gravity of the situation, called for a doctor. Simon’s usually composed demeanor cracked, and his voice wavered with fear.

“Stay with me, keep your eyes open,” he pleaded, his hands frantically working to stop the bleeding. His hands trembled as he applied pressure to your wound in an attempt to stop blood loss.

“We need help here!” he yells over his shoulder, voice angry and desperate.

“Simon,” you slur, trying your best to keep your eyes open for him. Your head is pounding. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Simon's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Within moments, a village doctor rushed to your side, their expression grave as they took in the scene. The villagers who had detained the assailant handed them off to a few palace guards who had been called to the scene.

“Your majesty, I’m a doctor!” they clarified.

Simon's anger simmered beneath the surface as the doctor took over, their skilled hands quickly assessing the wound. The villagers, sensing the tension, gave the king a wide berth as he struggled to contain his emotions.

“Do what you have to do,” he pleaded, now moving to grab onto your hand. He was trying his best to not look at your blood on his hands. It made his stomach lurch with disgust.

Once the doctor looked over your wound, they looked up and spoke.

“It’s not fatal, your majesty. It is a deep wound, though.”

Simon didn’t budge the moment the doctor began to examine you, watching them extremely carefully as they pulled out some bandages. A ragged gasp escapes your throat as the doctor starts to apply some of the bandages to the wound.

“Careful,” Simon’s voice dropped in warning. The doctor froze for a moment, then gulped.

“Your majesty, I don’t have adequate supplies with me to fully dress the wound, but it will hold for now. She needs stitches. Your best course of action would be taking her back to the palace,” the doctor said steadily as they wrapped makeshift bandages around your lower abdomen.

Simon squeezes your hand tighter. His gaze never left you. His heart pounded in his chest, hearing your whimpers and small cries.

“It hurts,” you sniffle, your cloudy vision not helping you to stay calm.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened even more, his jaw clenched in frustration. The helplessness gnawed at him as he watched you endure the pain. He nodded at the doctor, determination etched on his face.

“We're going back to the palace, now,” he declared, his voice a low growl.

Simon carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you protectively against his chest. The pain shot through your body, and you winced, clutching onto him.

"I've got you," he whispered, his tone a mix of reassurance and worry.

Another gaggle of palace guards, followed by Soap, came bursting through the clearing.

Simon looked up, his eyes meeting Soap’s with a silent understanding. There was no need for words—the urgency of the situation was evident.

“Soap, you know what to do.”

Soap nods, and starts ordering guards to secure the perimeter of the village.

“We're heading back to the palace. Clear the way,” Simon ordered, his voice cutting through the air. The guards swiftly formed a protective perimeter, ensuring a safe path through the village.

The journey back to the palace was a blur of agony and urgency. Simon navigated the streets with swift determination, his eyes always bouncing back down to your form to make sure you were comfortable, or as comfortable as you could be.

Upon reaching the palace, you were rushed into the infirmary, where the palace doctors and a team of medical staff awaited. The infirmary was a hive of activity as they readied themselves for you. Simon, with a steely resolve, carried you through the palace corridors, his eyes fixed on making it to the infirmary.

The medical team quickly took over, gently transferring you to a comfortable bed. Simon was reluctant to let go, but he knew it would be better for you if the medical professionals handled it.

“Tell me she'll be alright.” The doctor turned to him, a solemn expression on their face.

“Yes, her majesty will.”

The palace doctor, with a calm and steady demeanor, began assessing the extent of your injuries. Simon, his gaze unwavering, stood by your side, refusing to step away for even a moment.

Soap, having followed closely behind, approached Simon, concern etched on his face. “We’ve secured the village and increased patrols. The assailant is being interrogated. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Simon nodded, his attention still focused on you. “Make sure every corner of Kastron is searched for any potential threats. I want answers.”

Soap saluted and swiftly left to carry out the orders.

The palace doctor turned to Simon, their expression grave. “Your majesty, we need to perform a more thorough examination and proceed with additional treatment. If you could give us some space…”

Simon hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to stay by your side and the need to trust the medical professionals. Eventually, he reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you. The doctor and their team worked diligently to address your injuries. The process of stitching was refined, additional measures were taken to ensure your comfort, and Simon paced the room anxiously, his mind filled with a storm of emotions.

After what seemed like an eternity, the medical team stepped back, signaling that the immediate crisis had passed. The palace doctor approached Simon, her expression softer now.

“She's stable. She'll need time to recover, but with proper care, she should regain her strength.”

Simon let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His gaze softened as he looked at you, still vulnerable in the bed.

“I'll be here,” he stated, his promise echoing in the quiet infirmary.

. . .

A few hours later, Soap had returned back to the infirmary. You were now peacefully asleep, breathing even and steady.

“Ghost, we’re ready whenever you are.”

Simon nods solemnly, then presses a soft kiss on your cheek before standing up.

“Let’s go.”

. . .

Ghost followed Soap through the winding corridors of the palace towards the dungeons. The air grew colder with each step, mirroring the steel in Ghost’s gaze. As they reached the secure chambers, guards acknowledged the king and granted them passage.

The dungeon was a damp, dimly lit maze of cells. The captured assailant, hood removed, sat in a corner, their eyes defiant. Ghost’s arrival cast a shadow across the dank space, his frame blocking out the light of the torches. His expression is cold and hard; unwavering, and unrelenting.

“Who sent you?” Ghost’s voice cut through the oppressive silence.

The assailant remained silent, a thin smile playing on their lips. Ghost’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. He glanced at Soap, who nodded in encouragement.

Ghost stepped closer.

“I asked you a question. Who sent you?”

The assailant's gaze remained fixed on the stone floor, an infuriating smirk playing on their lips. Ghost’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience strained.

Soap, standing beside Ghost, spoke up. “We've got ways to make you talk, one way or another. It’s your choice whether you want this to be easy or hard.”

The assailant finally spoke, their voice a low, mocking tone, “You can't stop what's coming. Kastron will crumble, and there's nothing you can do.”

Ghost’s nostrils flared with barely contained fury, but he took a steadying breath. “Tell me who is behind this. What is their motive?”

The assailant chuckled. “You'll find out soon enough. You and your precious kingdom are in for a reckoning.”

Another bout of anger flared up in Ghost’s chest. “Who. Fuckin’. Sent. You?”

The assailant was silent.

Ghost’s patience disappeared.

He marches forward and uppercuts the assailant. Ghost’s knuckles cracked against the assailant's jaw, the blow echoing through the damp dungeon. The assailant's head snapped back, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of their mouth. Ghost glared down at them.

“I will not tolerate threats against my home,” Ghost seethed, his voice low and dangerous.

The assailant, despite the blood on their lip, maintained their defiant smile. Ghost’s frustration surged. He leaned down, gripping the assailant's collar, his eyes ablaze with intensity.

“You're playin’ a dangerous game. I suggest you start talking before you find out just how dangerous it can get.”

The assailant's gaze flickered for a moment, yet, they remained tight-lipped.

Ghost straightened, releasing his grip. “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way.”

Ghost motioned to the guards, who approached with shackles in hand. The assailant was restrained and pulled to their feet, but still, they didn't speak. The guards exchanged knowing glances. The assailant was dragged out of the cell and into a room containing a singular barrel full of ice cold water. The assailant’s knees were kicked out from behind them, causing them to drop in front of the barrel.

“Talk.” Ghost says simply, a dangerous air to his voice. He sounded calm. Too calm.

“You nearly killed my wife, you invaded my land, so talk.”

“She- she was never the target. You were! That girl ruined the plan!”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed at the revelation. The assailant's words hung in the air, a chilling revelation. Simon gripped the back of the assailant’s head, pushing them closer to the water.

“Explain,” Ghost demanded, his voice low and commanding.

The assailant, seemingly satisfied with the chaos they caused, smirked. “The real target was always you, Ghost. The chaos, the fear—it's all a means to an end.”

Ghost’s fists clenched. “Who is behind this? Why target me?”

The assailant chuckled, a sound that grated on Simon's nerves. “You're not as untouchable as you think. There are forces at play beyond your knowledge.”

Ghost shot a glance at Soap, who shared his confusion and frustration.

“You’re from the southern kingdom.” Ghost states plainly.

The assailant is silent.

“No one gets away clean after hurting my wife.”

And with that, Ghost dunks their head in the barrel.

. . .

Back in the infirmary, you began to stir. The pain, though dulled by the medication, was still present. You opened your eyes to find the soft glow of candles and the concerned gaze of a nurse attending to you.

“Easy now,” the nurse said, their voice soothing. “You're in the infirmary. The king is tending to other matters currently.”

You nod your head, settling back into the plush pillows propping you up. All you want is Simon.

As the nurse finished their tasks, you asked, “How bad is it?”

The nurse offered a reassuring smile. “The wound is deep, but the doctors took care of you. You’ll need some time to heal.”

You nodded, grateful for the hands that had tended to you. Still, the weight of the recent events pressed on your mind.

"How long has he been gone?" you asked, a hint of urgency in your voice. You knew he would be here with you any moment he could.

The nurse sighed gently. “His majesty is busy right now. But I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can.”

Restlessness settled over you. You couldn't shake the feeling that something much larger than the wound on your side was at play. The nurse, sensing your unease, offered a small comfort.

“The palace guards are on high alert. Whatever threat there was, they won't let it near you. Focus on getting better, and the king will be here when he can.”

Their words did little to ease your worry, but you acknowledged the truth in them. Simon was a more than capable ruler, and he would do everything in his power to protect Kastron. The nurse left the room, leaving you to the quietness of the infirmary. Time passed slowly as you lay there, your thoughts a whirlwind. Eventually, the door opened, and Simon entered, his face bearing the weight of the recent events. His eyes softened when they met yours, and he hurried to your side.

You tried to sit up, a smile breaking through the pain. “Simon…”

He gently pressed you back into the pillows. “Easy, love. How are you feelin’?”

“I'm okay,” you assured him, though the concern in his eyes mirrored your own. You watched intently as he sat down in the chair next to your bed.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Simon takes a breath. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Your gaze met his, determination and concern in your eyes. “I couldn't let anything happen to you,” you whispered.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened. “I don’t want you fighting my battles.”

“We're a team, Simon. Your battles are mine, just as much as mine are yours.”

Simon’s eyes softened at your words, gratitude and concern still lingering in his gaze. “I can't bear the thought of losing you,” he admitted, his voice a raw whisper.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against yours. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the weight of the words practically echo in the quietness of the infirmary.

You sit in silence for a bit, just basking in each other’s presence. After a moment, Simon stands from his chair. Wordlessly, he ever so gently moves you to the side. You let him. You’d let him do anything. After he makes sure you’re still comfortable, he slots himself next to you in the bed.

“What happened to them?” you ask as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. You're safe now,” he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. You don’t need to know about the violence he inflicted on them. And you were smart, you could pull the pieces together.

The infirmary remained quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of curtains and the distant murmur of activity from the palace. Simon held you close, his arm wrapped protectively around you, as if shielding you from the world outside.

Your question lingered in the air, the unspoken understanding that some details were better left untouched. Simon’s jaw tightened briefly, a fleeting sign of his struggle beneath his composed exterior. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns on your arm as he spoke.

“I won't let anything happen to you or Kastron.”

You nodded, knowing that Simon’s dedication is unwavering. As the night progressed, the infirmary dimmed, and Simon’s gaze drifted to the window. A soft glow from the moon illuminated the room, casting a tranquil ambiance, a stark contrast to how the next few months would pan out. The events of the day had taken a toll, but in this moment, there was peace.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

taglist: @analyseeeesworld @dragonstoneshortcake

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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euphoricfilter · 7 months

Text

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 9

[day nine: watersports]

pairing: taehyung x f. reader

tags/ warnings: pwp, watersports (pee), cumming untouched, literally wet and messy

notes: i know this isn’t for everyone so if you don’t like it don’t read it please!! also never written for this kink before so feedback is more than welcome!! :D

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Just one more” Taehyung pushes the glass of water closer to you, eyes wide in that innocent sort of way that has your heart constricting in your chest.

You frown at him, hand ghosting over your bladder.

“So full already” you murmur, legs crossed. Desperation slowly clawing down your body, any more water and you think you might burst.

“One more, my love… please” his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your jaw. His eyes flicker down to your lips, back up towards your eyes.

“One more” you nod, “no more after”

He hums, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. His hand skims over your stomach, cock twitching in his underwear at the prospect of what was going to happen within the next couple of minutes.

He pulls away from you, hand slipping over his erection, lithe fingers squeezing his cock; head tipping against the back of the couch as you pick up the glass.

Your eyes don’t train away from his hand that staves of his throbbing cock as you down the glass of water. Cunt starting to slick up at the sight of your boyfriend, already so lost his lust filled haze you’re not sure how long he’ll last.

He peeks an eye open at you when he hears the glass thump against the table, hand slipping between your own as he tugs you off the couch.

You whine, water jostling inside of you, pussy clenching as to not make a mess of yourself as he tugs you into the bedroom. Frantic as he yanks the door open of the bathroom, patience wearing extremely thin.

His pulls his shirt over his head, underwear soon kicked off, left and forgotten on the bathroom floor as he turns to you—cock straining against his stomach, tip a rugged looking red, so desperate for release you make quick work of pull your shirt over your head. Thrown somewhere along with Taehyung’s clothes.

He helps you tug your shorts down your legs, likely aware that it wouldn’t fare well for the both of you if you bent down while so desperate. He presses a kiss over the little bow on your panties, teasing fingers pressing over the wet crotch of your underwear, thumb brushing over your desperate little clit before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

He tugs them down your legs, lips like a magnet with your skin; another kiss pressed over your mound.

“Please” your fingers slip into his hair, thighs quivering as his tongue laves over your clit.

“Fuck Taehyung—” you have to take a step backwards, pussy clenching in need, though your bladder isn’t as appreciative, incessant want to let go dissipating over your stomach, “No more, I can’t hold on much longer”

He hums, fingers pressing through your wet folds once more before he’s pushing himself up off the floor.

He takes your hand, pushing the shower door open. The both of you cramping inside as he turns it on, angling the showerhead towards the wall. Letting the stream of water splash against the tiled floor.

He slides down the wall, knees bend wide as he helps you straddle him, clenching pussy hovering over his cock. His happy trail shines a little with his precum, his head knocking against the wall.

His hand wraps around his cock, pulling it away from his stomach as your fingers part your pussy lips. Teasing over your clit, thighs shaking as you hold yourself up over the tip of his cock.

He accidently knocks his cockhead against your cunt, string of arousal connecting the both of you when you push yourself to stand a little higher on your knees.

“Come on baby, give it to me” he groans, eyes slipping open to watch your fingers press over your sodden pussy.

“Yeah?” you murmur, another dribble of slick falling onto his cock.

“Yeah” he hums, “make me all wet and messy. Look so pretty when you piss yourself all over me”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you stare down at him.

You moan when you start to let go, mouth hanging open as he angles his cock to sit right under the stream. The relief is instant, hand bracing on his shoulder as the other one splays over your mound.

His skin glistens with it, Taehyung groaning as he feels your wet, warm, relief coat his skin. Slipping down his cock and joining the stream of the shower on the floor.

You barely catch it as it happens, your bladder only half empty when he shoots his release over his stomach. Cum painting his stomach, slipping down his legs. Mess of you and him coating his honeyed skin.

One of his hands fall to hold your thigh, fingers dipping into your skin as your piss starts to come out in little spurts. He presses his slowly softening cock over your clit, smearing the smallest bit of his cum over your wet cunt.

“Can’t believe you came untouched” you whisper, fingers wrapping around his cock, pressing it over your entrance.

“Told you, you look pretty pissing all over me” he presses a kiss to your bare chest, fingers ghosting over your nipples, “gotta make you cum too, hmmm? Pretty?”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts kinktober #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagine #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung

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emperorpalpatittay · 7 months

Text

The Break In Vsn:2

Simon “ghost” Riley x Wife!reader

Tw: blood, death, panic attack

I didn’t like the first version so I rewrote it completely.

—————————————————————————————————————

The night was quiet. You were fast asleep. Simon woke up at every little sound as he was trained to do. He would fall asleep countless time during the night waking up when he heard something and then going back to sleep when he discovered the origin of the noise.

The bed used to seem too soft to him. He was too used to sleeping on hard military cots or on the floor. Your cushy, memory foam bed was uncomfortably soft. He hated how it would sink to accommodate him almost holding him in its plush. It wasn’t until he realized how much less he ached after waking up in it that he began to begrudgingly accept it. Now he was used to it and hated when he had to sleep on anything else.

You were facing him; your hand wrapped around his wrist, your legs intertwined with his. Your head tucked under his as he held you to his chest. The hand not currently being held by you was resting on your back. He slept with you like he was putting himself between you and the world. As if anything that came for you would have to go through him first. Even in his sleep he lived to protect you.

In the dead of night a crash sounded from down stairs. His eyes opened the next second. Fully alert and aware. You jerked awake next to him still caught in the haze of sleep. You looked up at your husband who was now rigid against you.

“What was that?”, the hand around his wrist tightened in fear when you heard footsteps below.,”there’s someone downstairs!”

He shot from the bed and looked down at you still attached to his wrist. Your eyes were blown wide and your chest heaved.

“Si, what are you doing?”

You looked on the verge of tears.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He knew if you saw his worry you would panic. So he answered you in a calm gentle voice.

“I’ve got to keep you safe, lovey. I’ll be back. Everything will be fine. Stay here for me, yeah?”

You nodded and he pulled himself away. He left you huddled behind the bed with one of his knives. “Just in case.”

Once out of your bedroom door he put on the balaclava he took out of his nightstand. If he could be stealthy and agile in full tactical gear then he was a silent predator with his loose football shorts and bare chest. His feet unencumbered and unannounced by his heavy combat boots. He stalked them in the dark.

The first one he found in the office attempting to crack the code on the gun safe. He fell with no scream or cry. Just the gurgling of blood pooling in his throat from his severed jugular.

The second one in the hallway was going through the shelves taking your antique silver candle holders you’d inherited from your grandmother. He didn’t see Simon until it was too late. His massive hands on either side of his head snapping his neck before he could call out.

The third one was in the living room ransacking it for its various electronics. He turned around when Simon’s hulking figure appeared behind him. The poor lad nearly shat himself at the sight of the giant man in the balaclava. His pale chest splattered with blood. His eyes cold and unnerving. He was death.

The beginning of a scream made its way out before Simons knife found its way to the base of man’s throat. Thrust in with the strength of a bear. He fell to the ground, hands desperately trying to dislodge it from its place. He squirmed and clawed before stilling completely.

With the downstairs clear he made his way upstairs ready to calm you and clean himself off. The prior worry left his body with a sigh as he climbed the stairs, taking off the balaclava as he did.

Your door was open. The door he himself made sure was closed. Once again he tensed. As he crossed the threshold of your shared bedroom the acrid smell of blood hit his nose.

There you were on the floor shaking and covered in blood. A body lay in front of you. Simons knife sticking out from from its chest. Your hands were over your mouth muffling your sobs spreading the bright red blood across your face.

“I…I..he came up a-and I..I..just.”

It was broken up by sobs and muffled behind your hands.

“Oh lovey, shhh, shhh. It’s okay. You did what you have to okay. Look at me.”

He knelt in front of you taking your hands in his so he could look at you.

“Are you hurt at all?”

“No. No I’m okay. Can you please just hold me?”

He didn’t say anything but just pulled you to his chest and let you cry into him. He stroked your back as you cried whispering little nothings.

He was angry at himself how did he not know there was a fourth one. You could have been hurt. Here you were broken in his arms. You were not a killer. Your soft hands meant for healing not hurting.

He would deal with the mess later. For now he would hold you

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #cod mw ghost #ghost angst

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mistyresolve · 8 months

Text

| Hand to Hand - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 2.5k

Summary - After finally getting a moment alone with Ghost, those hours of waiting for him were worth it.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ Smut, Dirty talk, Heavy petting, Teasing, Grinding, Fingering, Praise

A/N - And last but finally not least.

Takedown ❤︎ Close Quarters

You were particularly snappy at everyone for the rest of the day, the frustrations that Ghost wound tightly inside you were making you irritable, snarling at everyone who looked at you the wrong way.

It was also nearly impossible to concentrate. Every road leads to Rome and every thought leads to Ghost railing you in a broom closet. You could still feel his calloused hands rove across your sensitive skin, and the heat of his body warming your back. The sound of his voice. Low and steady.

You eyed the clock, tapping your nails on your desk and chewing on the inside of your cheek. You had to fight every nerve in your body to keep from running to the training center as soon as the clock struck 10:00.

How quickly this man reduced you to desperation was frightening.

The moment you walked into the room, you could feel his eyes burn into you. He was glowering in the corner of the room with his usual, “Do not approach me”, mood. Until you entered. His head tracked you as you made your way to the benches. You stopped along the way to speak with one of the privates.

Even with your back turned to him, like a predator with its prey, you could feel Ghosts' attention lock onto you. It made your toes curl in your boots, and heat pool at the apex of your thighs. From across the room, you could feel his hackles rise; his head tilting to the side in question. Surely, you weren’t testing him right now. Surely, you weren’t that dumb.

You gave the private a sweet smile as he spoke to you; one that said “Take me out to dinner”. If he was going to tease, you were going to do it right back.

Ghost had enough. That was all he needed to see.

“Everyone get in line.”

Conversation came to an abrupt halt. You glared over your shoulder at Ghost and the glint in his dark eyes told you all you needed to know. He would be getting you back for that later.

You stepped onto the mat with him, waiting for his introduction of what today’s training would consist of. Today was disarming and subduing. You situated yourself beside him, waiting for his command.

He was doing a good job and not acting any differently in front of everyone. There were now awkward stolen glances, no hidden innuendos in his teaching. But his professionalism and self-control only turned you on more.

His grip on you during his demonstrations is gentle, his thumb slipping underneath your sleeve to trace little shapes onto your wrist. It was subtle and almost innocent but it still made your heart race. It still made you want him to cancel today's training, and take you into an empty room to devour you.

Hell, you’d let him fuck you right here…once everyone else, of course.

You were in a haze the entire class. Followed commands and orders as well as you would any other day, but your attention was elsewhere. He without a doubt noticed your lack of cognition but never commented on it.

He was so calm and collected that you wondered if you had dreamt of your interaction this morning.

On most days, he would stay behind a few minutes after class to watch as the soldiers tried out their newly learned techniques. Sometimes giving them pointers and direction on their form.

Not today though. He had plans.

With you.

At the end of the class, he leaned down next to your ear, “My office. Go. Now.”

He didn’t follow you out the door but gave you a nod when you turned to give him one last look. He lagged behind you and you didn’t see him again until you were almost to his office.

He came up behind you, silently. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he steered you to one of the third doors on the left. The room was unlocked and the lights were off, the blinds closed.

Spotless. It was so spotless that you wondered if he’d actually ever used this space.

He pulled you into his office, locking to door behind him. You didn’t have time to turn around before you felt his arms wrap his arms around your torso, his chest hard against your back.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, head lolling into his shoulder. Calling him by his rank was a force of habit and his proximity was making it difficult to think. The last time you two were in a similar position was when he stood you in front of the mirror in the gym. When you were exposed and desperate.

You felt his returning groan rumble against your back, there was also the hint of a laugh in there. It was like you were on fire; like he was pouring molten lust directly into your veins. A hand gripped at my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him, “Say that again.”

I twisted my head towards him, eyes wide, “Lieutenant?” I questioned, brows furrowing. Until I saw his expression, partially concealed by his mask, but his eyes gave enough away. He liked having you in this position with you call him that. He liked control. Dominance.

He tucked you further into him, a stray hand trailing down the length of your body. It was like deja vu when his hands squeezed at your thigh, forcing your legs apart. His voice is low and husky, filled with authority and longing, “Say it again.”

My chest heaved for air; air that was too thick with anticipation, “Anything for you, Lieutenant,” You turn pliable in his hands, rocking back into him. His response to the title presses against the curve of your back. Hard and long.

His fingers dig into your flesh, possessiveness evident in his touch. The both of you feel the tension building between you. Feel it grow and take form. He practically growls when he feels your body press against his, like throwing fuel into a fire, “That’s it…you know just how to please me, don’t you?” His hard cock pressed into you, aching to be inside of you. But he wouldn’t until he knew you were good and ready for him. Until he knew you deserved him.

“Mhm,” You nod my head and bite your lip when his fingers curl to your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, your body eager for his touch. He inches closer, teasingly grazing against my clothes sex, eliciting a shudder from you, “Stop with the teasing,” you hiss through gritted teeth, as you try and meet his hand. Only for him to pull away, going back to gripping at your hips.

He loved your sounds of frustration, and a hidden predatory smile played on his lips, “Do you trust me?” he asked. You almost cried out and tried rubbing your thighs together, but he stopped you, spreading your legs apart once more with a foot. His free hand wrapped around your neck, forcing your attention back into him. His cheek was pressed against yours, “Answer me or I’m going to leave you here. Alone and hopeless,” his voice was laced with dominance and solemnity.

“Yes!” you blurted out, “Yes, I trust you, Ghost.”

“Lieutenant,” he corrected, “Keep your eyes forward.”

Your eyes snapped to in front of you immediately. With the state you were in right now, you’d jump from a roof he told you to. You started to protest when he removed his hands from you but stopped when you felt soft, warm lips on your neck.

“Oh,” you choked, the sensation of his mouth on you was divine. He planted teasing kisses up your sensitive skin, sucking and nipping at you, leaving behind marks. A reminder of his possession. You reached a hand to his face, fingers dancing up his throat until you found his jaw. He moved away from your neck to press a kiss into your palm, before returning. You dared your hands to explore his face further, freezing when you felt soft hair. You had assumed he had merely lifted the mask to expose his mouth but he had removed it entirely.

Your chest tightened. He had that much faith that you wouldn’t try and look. He trusted that you wouldn’t jeopardize his anonymity; and your safety.

Your eyes fluttered shut so you could turn your face to him, finding his mouth with yours.

His fingers traced down your sides back to your core. This time he didn’t hold back and pressed them into your center. You broke the kiss to moan. Finally. Finally, he was indulging you. Finally, he was allowing you some release. He made slow, languid circles around your clit.

Your clothes remained an annoying barrier, but he quickly remedies that by dipping his hand down the front of your pants. You tried rolling your hips down into his palm but he halted, “Patience, love,” you could feel his smile against your skin, hear how his voice dripped with amusement, “I enjoy watching you squirm and begging for my touch,” his breath ghosted over your ear, “and I’ll give you what you want…” he dragged a long finger up your center, “but I’ll do it on my terms. Got it?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” I wrapped a hand around his wrist, a silent request for him not to leave wanting like he did before. Your other hand reaches behind to splay your fingers over his erection, and he instinctually rocks into it.

A primal growl rumbled deep inside him at those words, at your touch, “That’s my good girl,” he mumbles, losing his own mind momentarily. He revels in your pathetic, desperate motions as you try and stop yourself from grinding against his hand. He slips past your folds, spreading your slick arousal around your swollen clit. Then two thick, long digits delve into your wetness, warm and inviting. You blow a breath as you adjust to the intrusion. He curls them, seeking out the sweet spot he knows will unravel you.

His tone is one of satisfaction, “You’re so wet and eager for me. I’m going to make you come undone, over and over again.”

You practically melt in his arms at the remarks. He was going to be the end of you, you were sure of it. He was going to ruin you for everyone who was to come after him. He had hardly touched you and you could already feel a knot coil at the apex of your thighs.

“Make me yours?” you asked, slick with innocence.

You could almost hear his pupils dilate, “Yes,” he snarls, “Mine. Completely and utterly mine,” with a possessive thrust of his fingers, “Your body, your pleasure, everything belongs to me,” he adds a thumb to circle your clit to intensify the stimulation. With your hand still rubbing at his cock and the feeling of you greedily clenching around his fingers, sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help the deep guttural groan, his control slipping.

He’s nearly feral with possessiveness and it makes you feel…pretty. Irreplaceable. Desirable. You turn stupid when his head falls forward to say, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” his voice was a seductive rasp. One that was so different and so similar to his usually harsh tone. You never thought you’d live to see the day Ghost like this; Where his main goal was to make you feel good. The hand around your throat moved to your face, forcing your mouth back into him. He devoured you like he was hungry for your whimpers. Like he was being starved of them.

He keeps up with the steady pace, his rhythm never faltering. He thrusted in deep, hitting that sweet spot every time. The sounds of your moans and gasps was music to his ears and he drove you closer to the edge.

You forgot yourself, your name. Your body stiffened and your hands wrapped around his length. Faintly you could hear him groan, “Easy…let me do all the work,” The surge of pleasure shoots through him but he quickly intercepts your motions, guiding your hand away, “Not yet. I want to make you come first. Let me take care of you,” Lord, knew he wasn’t going to last if he let you continue. He curls his fingers deliciously and he continues his assault on your core.

You can feel the tension building within you. He could feel your body trembling.

“Give it to me,” he provoked.

You were standing on the tips of your toes as your climax crashed into you. Fast and hard. Something snapped inside of you and you screamed his name. His hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans. You can feel your arousal gush out of you, feel it collect in his palm.

Words become foreign to you but you can tell he’s praising you. He rose the high with you, following the lead of your body, prolonging it. He wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from you.

The only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the floor is the thigh he so graciously shoved between your legs and the grip he has on my waist. The feeling of his thigh against your still-spasming sex was overstimulating and your body convulsed at the friction. You whimpered when you saw him bring his soaked fingers toward his mouth and suck, and heard the quiet pop when he sucked and licked off your essence, savouring the taste of your desire.

Mostly because he couldn’t find the will in him to wait until he was able to eat you out to taste you.

It took you several moments for you to float back down to your body. And for your breathing to return to normal.

Then guilt and realization hit you. He didn’t come. He was so focused on you that he’d forgotten about his own release. I pulled away from him, “You didnt—”

He cut you off with an open-mouth kiss his tongue tangling with yours. He claimed every inch of your mouth. You could taste yourself on him. Mixed with the pure intensity was intoxicating and sent a jolt of desire to his cock.

He pulled away, hovering just millimetres away from you, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. But right now, all I want is you. All I want is to feel you, taste you, consume you.”

Masterlist

A/N - On a more serious note, my hometown of 22,000 has been evacuated due to wildfires, but I've decided to stay behind and help out. There are a lot of unknowns but there might come a time when aircraft can't land because of the smoke and the only highway out is currently on fire...Sooo, if I lose internet and cell service and I might go dark for a while.

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @mymommmy ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @lockleywife ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎@bugmanor ❤︎ @urbimom ❤︎ @bountydroid ❤︎ @ushisroa ❤︎@illyanam1011 ❤︎ @saddi3 ❤︎ @k4marina ❤︎ @unoreversecowgirl

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #mw smut #cod smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #smut

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