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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 5 months

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beautiful lies

Cross posted on AO3. On a Starfield kick lately and thinking of making a continuation that is multi-chaptered and has a happy ending.

Per the title, this was inspired by Beautiful Lies by Birdy. But there are a few songs that are perfect for listening to when reading:

Beautiful Lies - Birdy Wonderful Life - Smith & Burrows Not About Angles - Birdy I Guess - Mitski

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE GAME!

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“Goodnight gumdrop. Try not to stay up too late, alright?”

“No promises, dad.”

Ren leaned against a doorframe, watching her husband tuck Cora in, attempting to be strong and keep a soft smile on her face. The latter wasn’t difficult; watching the father and daughter interact always sent gentle pangs to her heart, though now they were tainted with a bittersweet helplessness.

Sam's fingers lingered in Cora's hair, his kiss on her forehead held a desperation to etch this moment into his memory. “I love you, Cora. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Cora lurched up from where she was lying to throw her arms around her dad and hugged him tight. The scene, once a source of warmth, now felt like a cruel twist of the knife, and Ren couldn't shake the haunting doubt that whispered in her mind. Ren found herself second-guessing, no, triple-guessing why they were about to go through with this. This reality was enough, for Ren at least.

Ren could feel the sorrow attempting to claw out of her throat, but she pushed it down, not wanting to break down just yet.

“Night, Ren!” Cora said, pulling away from her dad.

Ren kneeled next to Cora’s bed and looked into those big, bright eyes. Only a year before did Ren meet the two people that would change her life for the better, but she was irreversibly entangled.

“Night, kiddo,” Ren told her, brushing a stray curl aside. “Thank you for being the best copilot a captain could ask for.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Ren weakly replied. “Yeah, you were.” She managed a strained smile and kissed Cora's forehead.

A family was all Ren ever wanted. And now…

Sam rose from the bed, helping Ren stand. Ren looked at Cora for a final time, attempting to imprint every detail. Sure, she’d see a version of her again but not her Cora. Not the Cora that asked her so sweetly for a small space for books on her ship and Ren built her a whole damn library in a cargo hold. Not the Cora that so fiercely stood up for what she believed was right. Not the Cora who effortlessly claimed a piece of Ren's heart

Sam led them both out of Cora’s room within the ship and shut her door. Only then did Ren let the tears fall freely. He didn’t say anything, but Ren felt Sam’s thumb rub circles on her hand in comfort while he directed them to their room on a separate floor.

In the hallway, Ren's steps echoed a somber rhythm as she followed Sam to their room. The weight of the moment pressed on her shoulders, the heaviness of impending loss settling in. They walked in silence, a silence that spoke volumes, carrying the unspoken grief that lingered in the air.

Once inside, Ren relinquished any semblance of composure. A guttural sob, raw and wretched, clawed its way out of her mouth. She clutched Sam's jacket in both trembling hands, as if the fabric could anchor her in a reality that seemed to unravel with each passing moment. Her tears stained the fabric as she cried into his chest.

His arms enfolded her in a protective embrace. Gentle hands rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“Darlin’,” he whispered, sounding at a loss at the sight of her breakdown. Ren didn’t cry often, normally choosing to bury her emotions down deep, but this? She couldn’t bury this feeling, no matter how much she’d like to. She had finally attained everything she longed for – friends, a family – and now, it unraveled before her like a cruel joke. She already lost her best friend days ago to The Hunter and now she has to lose her family too.

But what cut the deepest was the realization that this was their choice, a conscious decision to traverse this path of heartbreak.

“Tell me, Sam,” she pleaded through her sobs, voice strained. “Tell me we don’t have to do this.”

His response was a gentle whisper. "You know we have to," he murmured, his lips pressing a tender kiss on her temple. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of inevitability, each syllable driving home the painful truth that they were architects of their own agony.

And the worst part was that she knew he was right. They had to do this. They couldn’t just ignore the Unity. This is what Constellation was about, the exploration, being pioneers of the unknown.

She pulled away and cupped his face with both hands, looking at those blue eyes that drew her in from the very first day. The heartbreak she was feeling was reflected in his eyes, and the decision seemed to physically weigh on him. Ren couldn’t imagine being reborn and Sam not knowing her, not remembering what they had been through, how much love blossomed between them. She couldn't fathom a Sam who didn't recall their first kiss outside The Hitching Post or the blissful moments as a family, exploring with Cora – experiences neither Ren nor Sam had the chance to live in their own childhoods.

“Promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything,” he assured her.

“Promise me we’ll see each other again.”

Sam’s eyes closed, pain etching across his face, and a solitary tear escaped. He turned his face, pressing a tender kiss on one of the palms cradling him, not answering her.

“Lie to me, Sam,” Ren pleaded desperately as he looked at her again. “Please, just pretend for tonight.”

A beat passed and Ren held her breath, needing to hear the words.

“We’ll see each other again, Ren. I promise.”

A broken promise never felt so sweet.

“Okay,” Ren whispered through a watery smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

Sam nodded a silent agreement that hung heavy with the weight of the inevitable. He pulled her into a desperation-soaked kiss, both of them ignoring the tears and shaking hands. Sam guided her to lay on their bed and he climbed on top of her, the weight of him anchoring her in the moment.

Ren removed his hat and tossed it over the side of the bed, threading her hands in his hair, taking time to remember what it felt like between her fingers, each strand a fragile thread connecting her to this reality that was slipping away from her.

It seemed like Sam was on a mission to imprint every inch of her with kisses, a desperate attempt to etch their intimacy into their memory, trailing kisses and bites down her neck, across her collarbones. Layers were removed with trembling fingers and desperate hands.

When he pushed into her, it felt final somehow, an act laden with the weight of farewell. Ren couldn’t help the tears that fell as he pushed inside her again and again, mirroring the unspoken grief that Sam couldn't conceal either, evidenced by the wetness that dripped onto her chest every so often.

The pleasure was intense, as it always was, but alongside it was the accompanying grief that this would be the last time she was this close with her husband, her chosen partner for life. When they finished, they did it together, hands intertwined, and lips pressed together in a desperate embrace, the room bearing witness to the culmination of their love and sorrow.

Sam rolled off of her, and as they laid side by side, he faced her, his fingers tracing the leaf tattoo on the side of her face with a tenderness that echoed the fragility of the moment.

“You know,” he said, voice scratchy with an underlying sadness, “we’ll meet another version of each other. I wonder what that will be like.”

Ren, staring into his eyes, couldn't bring herself to utter the brutal truth she had learned from The Emissary: Ren died in almost every universe. This one was an anomaly. Perhaps it was a selfish choice, but she couldn't bear to inflict the agony she carried on him. What purpose would it serve to reveal that he was destined to witness his wife's death in his arms, over and over again

The room, once filled with the echoes of their shared passion, now housed a silence, a quiet acknowledgment of the inevitability of their journey. And in that moment, as they lay side by side, Ren stared into his eyes and though about their love, a love destined to repeat its tragic cycle in countless universes. Whether it was traveling to the Unity or death, was tragedy the only thing waiting for them?

“I’ll never stop looking for you,” Ren whispered, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone in a tender caress. “I’ll look for you in every sunrise, on every planet, in every breath of fresh air.”

Sam, his hand over hers, held onto the fleeting warmth of her touch. “And I will always look for you, darlin’. Maybe… maybe the universe will do right by us, let us find each other again.”

“Maybe,” she echoed, the word leaving her lips like a fragile prayer, though she couldn't find belief in her own words. “Maybe the universe will be kind.”

“I love you, Ren.”

“And I love you, Sam.”

#sam coe #cora coe #starfield

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 1 year

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 1 year

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Sorry for the delay!! Just got done with finals!! Next chapter will likely be up the 20th/21st!!

#siren song

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 1 year

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siren song - chapter 6*

previous chapter: chapter 5

Masterlist

A/N: FIRST: I edited last chapter and added more detail. I wasn't really happy with how it turned out so there's a bit more. Also, MAJOR NSFW warning!! First time writing out smut so I hope it turned out okay!!

Ghost

31 August 2022

1300, Mexican Special Forces Base, Las Almas

As he ran an oiled rag over the barrel of his gun, Ghost thought of summer storms.

Everyone knew when they were coming; the clouds themselves were enough, but the sweet thickness of the air that accompanied them was a dead giveaway. As was the silence the preceded its arrival, the sounds of birds and insects both absent.

Everyone knew the destruction they caused, evident by the flooding and harsh winds that knocked tree trunks onto houses. Roads left undrivable, buildings in ruin.

And even knowing when these storms were about to hit land and knowing the devastation they could leave in their wake, people still sat on their porches and watched as darkness neared, not bothering to hide from its wrath.

And to some, this may seem foolish.

But a Ghost was not one of those people.

He knew there was a beauty in the calm before the storm but also the havoc swirling within it. Lightening tangled like spider webs in the sky would brighten the night like no other, and the heavy downpour didn’t have to feel like drowning; sometimes it was a drink of water after nearly dying of thirst.

And maybe because of all these things, he thought of her too.

She was an enigma. Calm like a gentle breeze, but fervent like a wildfire. Seemingly ruthless and sadistic, but merciful and disciplined. She was not afraid of him, and that was a rare thing in itself; Most people avoided Ghost, not that he was complaining. But she wasn’t fazed, didn’t look at him different because of the mask he wore, and that alone was a fact he reveled in.

During their fight, he could feel the measure of her strength with every hit and determination with every block. The feeling her mouth wrapped around his thumb kept coming to his mind over and over, as did the sight of her smug expression after she bested him. And most of all, the look she gave him afterwards, when he pulled her in close; desire and longing, one he wasn’t sure he could deny if it came down to it.

Ghost took a couple of deep breaths, trying his best to push out all of the images of her. Her sultry gaze, a lacy bra underneath a white tank top dotted with blood, the sound of her moans over the comms, the feel of her against his body.

“Fuck…” Ghost mumbled, finally managing to wrangle up his errant thoughts and return to the task at hand.

He was reassembling his weapon with ease, barely even registering the motions, when Soap walked in.

“Lt.,” he greeted, setting his rifle bag at the foot of his bed. Ghost nodded his head in return and traded out the newly assembled weapon for his side arm. As he began taking the pistol apart, Soap sat on the side of the bed.

“Has Siren come back yet?” Soap asked him.

Back? Ghost thought. He wasn’t aware that she had gone anywhere.

“Last I saw her was a few hours ago. No idea where she is now,” Ghost told him.

Soap hummed in acknowledgement, a contemplative look on his face. “Shepherd called for her about a half hour ago.”

That struck Ghost as odd. Not that he didn’t think she was capable of dealing with Shepherd; no, he was more concerned that he, a Lieutenant, was not asked for.

“Wonder why,” Ghost said out loud.

Soap shrugged. “Think it was about the other night?”

Ghost could guess that he was talking about the night she went undercover. A night he was sure he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“‘Dunno,” Ghost said.

Probably not, he thought to himself. Shepherd didn’t seem too phased by it and from his instructions that night, he seemed to expect that level of performance.

Before he could contemplate anymore, the woman plaguing his thoughts walked through the door to their room, barely sparing either of them a glance as she hurridely grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom. Ghost and Soap shared a puzzled look, not sure what to think of her lack of acknowledgement.

—

Siren

31 August 2022,

1400, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

You looked in the mirror and once again, you were someone different.

There were no indications of a hardened soldier or an assassin who preyed on weak men. The woman in front of you had kind eyes and a soft smile, a vision of what could have been if life had dealt you a different hand. Sometimes you mourned that life; Maybe by now you’d have a little house and a nice partner to settle down with. But every time you tried to imagine it, you just couldn’t. It was more like forcing a puzzle piece into where it didn’t fit; it would never work, not without cutting out parts of yourself.

Instead of the tight ponytail you typically sported, your hair laid over your left collarbone in an easy braid. The makeup you wore was subtle this time. You didn’t need to stand out; you didn’t need to be the most stunning, most desirable woman this time. You needed to blend in, inconspicuous enough to get near but not draw too much attention. You wore a flowy yellow and orange sundress topped with a jean jacket. You looked “normal” and that was exactly what you were going for.

You put a knife in your jacket pocket and left the bathroom, tote in hand. You walked out and placed the tote by your bed before turning to your teammates. You felt their stares from the moment you walked in and that didn’t change once you left the bathroom in civilian clothes.

“What did Shepherd need you for?” Soap asked as you got a crossbody purse to put your wallet in.

“He wants me to go out for intel,” you told him. “Just me.”

“Alone?” Ghost asked incredulously. “No backup?”

You nodded and put on your flats.

“Not sure that’s a great idea,” Soap commented.

“Regardless, it’s a direct order,” you said, looking at both of them. “I’m not doing what I did last time. Its minimal contact, just listening for Alejandro’s boys to translate.”

“It’s reckless is what it is,” Ghost told you sternly.

You rolled your eyes before letting out a sigh. “You’ve never gone on a mission alone with no backup?”

Ghost didn’t respond to that which is exactly what you expected. He seemed the type to work alone with little to no protections that he’d come out alive.

“You don’t know me, Lieutenant,” you said harshly, taking a step closer to him so you could look glare into his eyes. “You have no idea what kind of shit I have done. The kind where a wrong move leads to death and extraction isn’t an option. This is nothing. Just because I’m not a man—“

“That’s not what this is about,” Ghost interrupted, stepping even closer so you were toe-to-toe. “We are a team. I don’t give a fuck if it’s you or Soap. We shouldn’t take risks if we don’t have to.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Direct orders from Shepherd supersede yours.”

For a brief moment, you glared at each other, neither of you giving in.

“She’s got a point,” Soap said, much to Ghost’s chagrin.

Ghost took a breath as if he were going to respond but you spoke instead. You needed to get out there soon and going back-and-forth with your superior wasn’t getting you anywhere. “I’ll wear an earpiece this time. You can talk to me if you need to and let me know if they hear anything suspicious. The braid should cover it.”

A beat passed.

“Fine,” Ghost conceded, the slight frustration present in his tone. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and watched as he left the room, likely to the control room.

You gathered your things, tossed a goodbye to Soap over your shoulder, and began looking for Alejandro to let him know the plan and to acquire an earpiece.

—

Once again, you found yourself in a bar in Las Almas, different than the previous one for obvious reasons.

You sat alone at a table in the corner of the room, sipping a cranberry vodka and mentally going over your backstory today. You weren’t planning on needing it but men have come up to you unprovoked before.

Today you were Isabella, 25, on vacation from your job. You worked in sales at an advertisement company in the US but were open to other opportunities if they were offered. You made sure your body language was relaxed and casual, and to not linger look anywhere for too long.

It was a moderately populated bar, with patrons playing pool, watching a soccer game on TV, and chatting amongst themselves. You were near a table of men that you were fairly confident were cartel members but didn’t get a good enough look to know for sure. You were hoping the mic would pick up their voices from where you were, but if not, you may have to improvise.

“Alright, hang tight Sergeant while Alejandro listens in,” Ghost said over the comms. You couldn’t really respond so you complied, just sipping your drink and feigning interest in the ongoing game on TV.

In all honesty, you were surprised Shepherd hadn’t wanted more out of you. When he was desperate for results, he normally sent you in with execute authority, willing to toe the line of legality as long as it got answers. And you were fine with that. You made yourself into the weapon that you were, it would be idiotic to not use it. You didn’t lose a bit of sleep over the people he sent you after; they were evil in more ways than one and normally involved in nefarious practices outside of terrorism.

“Keep doing what you’re doing. We’re getting something.”

And so, you did.

You allowed your gaze to roam over to the table of about five men, only picking out a few words from their conversation. A name appeared a few times, “Diego”, possibly something for the Los Vaqueros to look into.

As you looked around, you saw a different group of men, about three, get up from their place at the bar. Just as it looked like they were about to leave, one of them turned around and started walking your way.

You hoped he was going to the bathroom just so you didn’t have to talk to him and ruin any intel coming through from the mic. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem you would be that lucky tonight.

“Hola,” he greeted with a charming smile. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Just as he had begun talking to you, Ghost’s voice rang out in your ear. “Get rid of him, Sergeant.”

“Oh, hi!” you greeted with a smile. “I’m on vacation. It’s my first time here actually.”

“Maybe I could show you around some?” he suggested, standing closer to the seat you were in, leaning on the table with one of his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small, embarrassed smile. “I have a boyfriend. I’m actually waiting for him here.”

“Oh,” he said, looking a little dejected. “I hope you have a good time.”

You nodded and watched his retreating form.

“Good girl.”

You sucked in a breath of surprise at the praise.

Bastard, you thought to yourself. His voice was so dark and deep, and now closer than ever since he was literally talking just to you over the comms. And he knew what he was doing. Likely an attempt to get you back from your fight earlier and the tactics you used.

A little bit of time passed, filled with you keeping your mind under control and Ghost updating you on their progress. Just as you finished your second drink, the men at the table got up to leave. And, just as you suspected, they sported tattoos of the cartel symbol on their bodies.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” Ghost said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You paid your tab in cash and left the building shortly after, content to wait on a bench for your ride to pick you up.

Thoughts of Ghost were becoming quite distracting; the feel of his body against yours, his hand around your neck, a hand inching up your thigh after stitching you up. He was effortlessly intoxicating and all you wanted to do was breathe him in. You weren’t blind, either. You knew that he had to feel it too. Why else would he react so strongly after the fight?

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Siren”

And why did that warning feel more like an invitation?

—-

You made it back to the base after being escorted by one of Alejandro’s men. You weren’t summoned for a meeting about their findings yet so you headed back to your shared room, hoping to get out of the dress and back into your tactical clothes.

Upon arriving, you saw Ghost sitting on the edge of his bed, cleaning his weapons again. It was almost ritual-like, with how often he would clean them.

Soap was nowhere to be seen, likely at the dining hall.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted. He looked up and nodded in return, going back to his task without a further word.

You went into the bathroom and began deconstructing Isabella. You took out your braid and let your locks fall naturally around your face. You hung your jean jacket on a towel rack outside of the door, leaving only your sundress to unzip.

You reached around the back to reach the zipper, but it was at a very awkward angle, and not something you could do by yourself.

You sighed. Perhaps this could be the opportunity you had been waiting for to finally get him out of your system.

“Ghost?” you called out. “Can you help me for a sec?”

You felt giddiness rise in your chest, and for once in a long time, it was not because you were preparing to kill someone.

You heard faint footsteps getting closer and two knocks on the bathroom door. You opened it to find your Lieutenant eyeing you warily like you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Smart man.

You stepped away to let him in and shut the door behind him.

“I can’t unzip this,” you told him, gesturing to your dress. “Could you do it for me? Please?”

He nodded once and you turned to face the mirror.

As he came up behind you, you felt the need to push a little bit, just to see what would come of it.

“I told you it wasn’t dangerous.”

He met your gaze in the mirror and narrowed his eyes. “You were lucky.”

“Maybe so,” you replied, feeling his warm hand make contact with your back where the zipper was. “I think I did a great job, though. Worthy of a reward if I do say so myself.”

Every breath between you felt measured, both of you trying to figure the other out as you neared a precipice you couldn’t back away from.

He hummed in acknowledgement and began slowly dragging the zipper down, eyes never breaking from yours.

“After all, you said I was a good girl,” you teased, a smirk forming.

A hand flew to your waist, holding you still as the zipper finally reached the bottom of its track.

You were presenting a clear challenge with your eyes alone, one that you hoped he would take. However, you could see him debating with himself, so you decided to take matters into your own hands with a little provocation.

“Show me what it’s like to be with someone other than people like them,” you told him pointedly.

“Like who?”

“Those weak men,” you said, taking the hand on your waist and guiding it up to your abdomen, “the ones that never take a chance,” and up higher, “the ones that can’t keep up,” and leaving it to rest on your covered breast while you whispered the last part.

“The ones that can’t make me cum.”

A hand flew up to grip your throat, causing you to grin at the motion while he pushed his body tight against yours.

“You’re something else, Siren.” His voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it and it only multiplied the feeling of your arousal.

“I know.” You smiled at him and watched his eyes darken.

He released your throat and pulled the straps of your sundress down your shoulders and peeled it off slowly. It fell to the ground, pooling around your feet, leaving you in a lacy set of underwear and strapless bra while he was fully dressed in tactical gear minus a vest.

You reached around and removed your bra; immediately a hand found your breast and began tugging on your already hardened peak, making you release a quiet moan of pleasure.

Before you could really get into it, his other hand threaded itself into the hair at the base of your skull and made a fist, pulling your head back to look at him in the mirror.

“One rule,” he said. You nodded as best as you could, still slightly distracted by his hand traveling from your breast down your abdomen and stopping right when the tips of his fingers reached your panty line.

“With me, you’re real,” he ordered. “No fake moans. If something doesn’t feel good, you’re going to tell me. This isn’t your job; this is just us.”

You nodded reverently but he tightened his grip causing you to hiss in pleasure-pain.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Ghost. Just us. Now fucking touch me you bastard.”

He chuckled lowly, sliding his hand underneath your underwear and running his fingers through your folds.

“Soaked,” he commented smugly, dragging some of your wetness up to rub your bundle of nerves with his middle finger. You watched the outline of his hand in the mirror, the veins in his arm, the muscles flexing as he began moving his fingers in circles.

“Fuck,” you whispered, just this small touch making you feel so good, so much better than when you touched yourself. “More,” you demanded.

Ghost removed his hand, causing you to whimper at the loss. He spun you around and both of his hands found the edges of your underwear and dragged them down, leaving you completely bare before him. He lifted you by the waist to sit on the sink, your back against the mirror.

He put his hands on both knees and spread them apart, exposing your arousal to him. You watched his eyes flare and his chest rise and fall faster.

He brought his middle and ring finger of one hand to your lips.

“Suck.”

You eagerly opened your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks, caressing his fingers with your tongue. Instead of just staying still like last time, his moved his fingers forward, deeper into your mouth. You stared at him as you swallowed them down, not choking on the digits as he tested your gag reflex. He quietly groaned and removed his now slicked fingers.

The same hand reached down and cupped the apex of your thighs, rubbing your clit a few times before easing his fingers into you, causing your eyes to roll backwards. When you opened your eyes, he waited for you to look right at him before curling them up, eliciting a true moan, one you hadn’t ever heard come from yourself.

He built up a rhythm, going in and out, curling his fingers with every plunge inside, a pressure building up in your abdomen. You were in a constant state of pleasure, mindless to the rest of the world besides the masked man in front of you.

Ghost continued to finger fuck you, dirty and slow, pushing moans out of you effortlessly. You knew you were getting closer and closer and couldn’t stop your words or reactions.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cried out, thighs beginning to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to grip your chin and level your stare with his.

“Watch me when you cum,” he ordered. You nodded enthusiastically, not willing to take your eyes off of his.

He sped up and rubbed your clit with his thumb on every push in. You moaned loudly, your eyes becoming hooded as the pleasure became too much for your body to handle. You watched him right as he shoved you over the edge, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He helped you ride out your orgasm and when you came down, he removed his fingers, now more slick than they were from your mouth.

Ghost’s other hand raised his balaclava enough to reveal his lips, and he placed his fingers coated in your slick into his mouth, groaning as the taste hit his tongue.

“Your cunt tastes fucking good,” he growled, pulling your boneless form off of the sink and turning you around once again, making you lean against the sink on your hands. Even though you just came, you were drunk on him and wanted him even more, wanted anything he’d give you.

“Fuck me, Ghost,” you demanded, sticking your ass out a little, desperate to feel his cock splitting you open.

“Gladly.” His hands fumbled to undo his belt and pants. You felt his warm, velvety cock against your ass and watched as he spat down on his hand. He stroked himself a few times before lining himself up behind you, looking at you before moving.

“Please,” you whispered.

Ghost pushed his hips forward, his cock entering you in one go and causing you to drop your jaw from the fullness while he let out a loud groan.

“Fucking hell,” he said, hands coming up to grip your hips tightly. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting harshly back in and forcing a moan from you. He filled you just right, on the right side of painful and the epitome of pleasure.

As he rocked in and out, pulling your hips back into him on every thrust in, you thought that if you died right now, you’d be fucking happy, being impaled on this man’s cock.

You have been fucked by countless men but nothing, nothing could ever compare to the borderline religious experience you were having as his length buried itself inside of you over and over again.

You watched his eyes in the mirror; he would look downward to where he was disappearing inside of you and then up to your face, meeting your eyes with an intensity you’d never seen before. His thrusts picked up in pace, but he never sacrificed firmness for speed, the slap of his hips hitting your skin echoing in the bathroom.

Your moans also picked up in frequency as you began to approach your peak once more, his cock hitting the spot deep inside you perfectly each time. You gripped the sink edge so hard that your fingertips were white with the effort.

He pulled you upright, one hand wrapped around your neck, causing an arch to form in your back as he fucked you. His other hand travelled down to your clit and circled it with precision, causing your pleasure to skyrocket tenfold.

“Oh my god…” you cried as his thrusts continued with a deadly consistency.

“Cum,” Ghost told you. “Cum on my cock.”

You cried out the only name you had for him. He shoved himself inside of you deep and held there while you shook and spasmed around him.

“Fuckin’ good girl,” he said in that gravely tone of his.

He maneuvered your body into another position, bending you more forward and holding your arms behind you. With one hand gripping your shoulder and the other holding your arms, he pulled out slowly and slammed back in, causing an almost-sob to come out of you. You felt so damn good, tears started to prick at the corner of your eyes.

The sound of your wetness became very loud as he continued to move in and out, joining the sound of heavy breathing, skin on skin, and your uncontrolled moans.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned, fucking you with an such an intensity that you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises on you the next day. In fact, you hoped you would, if only to remind you that this wasn’t some dream.

He sped up again; The way he held your body meant that with every thrust in, it jolted you forward but his hands stopped you and brought you backwards instead, making it feel like his cock was pounding into you even deeper than before. You watched yourself getting fucked by your Lieutenant; you looked so fucked out and in a daze. He wasn’t unaffected though. His eyes would occasionally roll back in pleasure and groans would surface after a particularly deep thrust.

“God, Ghost, you feel so good,” you told him. “Never felt like this before.”

“Good.”

Before long, his thrusts became more erratic, signaling he was reaching his end as well. He let go of your arms and instead gripped your waist.

“Touch yourself,” he choked out. You obeyed, rubbing your clit with a furious intensity. You felt yourself approaching an orgasm for the third time, the feeling rapidly increasing with his more vocal groans as he neared the end.

“Shit,” you cried out, falling into pleasure a final time, muscles twitching so badly that Ghost had to hold up most of your weight. By the time you came back to yourself, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He quickly pulled out and came on your lower back, a heavy groan echoing through the bathroom. You both were still for a second, catching your breath.

He was the first to move; he grabbed a washcloth and wiped his spend from your back and rubbed his fingers over the already forming bruises on your waist from when he came.

“’S okay,” you told him, voice hoarse from use. “We should do that again.”

Your Lieutenant looked back up at you. You were a bit of a mess, with hair mussed and a full-body flush present from all the blood rushing. But that didn’t stop you from giving him a serious stare.

“I’m serious,” you told him. “This doesn’t have to be the last time.”

“We’ll see.”

“You’re welcome to stay but I’m going to shower. We worked up quite a sweat.”

He nodded and was quiet for a second.

“I’m going to go out. Don’t need Soap investigating where we both went if he comes back.”

You nodded in agreement and watched as he tucked himself back in his pants and fixed his belt before walking out. You weren’t offended that he was leaving. You were honest about your intentions; it didn’t need to be anything more than sex.

You had a pleasant ache in your muscles, and you felt sore in all the right places, something you hadn’t really ever felt. You were being honest when you said you hadn’t felt anything like that before.

Hopefully it happens again. And soon.

Taglist:

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#ghost #simon ghost riley smut #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mw22

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New siren song chapter should be up the 4th/5th! Working hard on it right now!!!

#siren song

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siren song - chapter 5

Masterlist

previous chapter: chapter 4

next chapter: chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys!! Likely it won't be that long in between updates in the future because I am also obssessed with this story. Also, you can't tag more than 100 people on a post so I'm doing the rest in the comments and I'm hoping it works!! Thank you for all the love on the story, it means the world to me ❤️ Also this is a tad bit shorter than usual but next chapter will probably be really long so it should even out!!

Siren

August 30 2022

2100, Classified location, Las Almas

The darkness of the night surrounded you, only broken up by headlights from the two cars you and the rest of your team exited from. The illumination allowed you to take in the desert around you, the dry sand and the occasional cacti. Nothing could be seen for miles and the only semblance of life seemed to be the call of nearby coyotes. It was such a deserted space, you almost expected a tumbleweed to roll by.

You leaned against the side of one of the cars and watched Ghost do the same at the other vehicle.

Soap and Alejandro dragged a struggling Hassan from the car near you and into the middle while Graves set up a laptop on the ground.

“On your knees,” Soap ordered, pushing Hassan to the desert floor along with Alejandro’s help.

“Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves asked after setting up the video call with Shepherd and Laswell. Alejandro yanked off the black hood covering Hassan and stayed standing behind him, gun at the ready.

“Crystal,” Shepherd’s voice rang out from the laptop.

“All set,” Laswell confirmed.

“Alright, we are live, folks,” Graves said, walking over to join Soap in standing in front of Hassan. Graves hooked his thumbs into the front of his vest, giving off an air of ease.

Before Graves could utter a single word, Hassan spoke up first.

“Do you speak Arabic?”

“No,” Graves replied.

“Farsi?”

Graves looked up in annoyance before leveling a bored stare at Hassan. “No.”

“Course not. Then I’ll speak you bastardized medieval English,” Hassan gave a small smile, “because you are all uneducated street dogs.”

Graves looked down and shook his head in mock-disappointment.

“Ah, see… we’re getting off to a bad start here, Hassan.”

“You are talking to a Quds Force officer.”

“You’re the commander of a foreign terror organization,” Graves stated.

“I can say the same to you,” Hassan replied. His attempts at provocation failed, with none of you reacting to what was a very pathetic attempt at cleverness.

“What’s your target, ‘Major’?” Graves asked, tacking on the last bit with thinly veiled sarcasm.

“What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?”

Graves shrugged before looking back to Hassan. “Oh well, wild guess… To nail your ass.”

“So insolent and foul-mouthed,” Hassan said with distaste, “You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire.”

Graves took a step forward, getting even closer. “You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan. If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain.” The last bit was said through gritted teeth; personally, you wouldn’t have shown any sense of anger or frustration with a man like Hassan who clearly craved it. In your opinion, nonchalance and indifference would work best, but alas, it was not your interrogation.

Hassan laughed. “I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me.”

Soap interrupted the back and forth between Graves and Hassan, asking, “Who’d you get American missiles from?”

Almost immediately, Shepherd cut in. “I don’t care who they’re from, I wanna know where they’re going.”

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly; surely, he would want to know who the supplier was in order to prevent more from getting into the wrong hands. It struck you as odd, the hardness in his voice. Maybe you were reading into things too much, but based on the look on Soap’s face, you weren’t the only one.

Graves stepped away from Hassan and looked at the immediate, desolate surroundings. As if on cue, coyotes began howling.

“Take a look around, Hassan,” Graves said, now bending to be eye-level with Hassan. “Now, you can either become part of the food chain or you can start talking.”

“I’m a hostage here. This is illegal.”

Alejandro placed a firm hand on Hassan’s shoulder. “You’re a prisoner of war.”

Hassan attempted to rear back and look at Alejandro but was stopped by the hand on his shoulder.

“Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws. These men and their commanders are the law breakers,” Hassan declared, looking at every one of your team.

“You and your beloved General Ghorbani broke every—“ Soap was instantly cut off by an enraged Hassan.

“Do not speak his name!” he roared. “You executed him and you will pay for your crimes!”

This outburst brought a lazy smirk to your face. You simply could not stay back any longer, not when it was finally getting good.

You sauntered up next to Soap and Graves and joined them in towering over Hassan.

“Men,” you said humorously, your smirk never faltering, “always so dramatic.”

Hassan lunged towards you, causing Alejandro to tighten his grip and Soap to aim his gun at Hassan but you didn’t move. You simply chuckled as he spit out something you assumed to be an insult. You were not afraid of this man. You were not afraid of many men, not anymore.

Before you could say anything else, Shepherd’s voice, full of frustration, came through the laptop.

“I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass…”

“General,” Laswell cautioned, “killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.”

“Tell me you’re getting something actionable, Laswell.”

“Working on it. Stand by.”

Graves walked to the laptop and placed it on the hood of the car that Ghost stood next to.

“Actual, let me finish this,” Graves implored.

“There is nothing I would like more,” Shepherd admitted. “But Laswell’s right. Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us.”

“He’s right here. You can’t be serious,” Soap said incredulously.

“I’m afraid I am, son.”

At that, Hassan smirked.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Ghost looking down at Hassan’s phone. “Did we get anything from his phone?”

“Affirmative,” Laswell answered. “We got a hit.”

“Good,” Shepherd said. “Now take him back and let him go.”

Alejandro threw a hood back over Hassan’s head and dragged him up. On the way, Ghost slid the phone into Hassan’s jacket pocket while Soap shut the laptop, killing the connection to Washington.

——

Siren

31 August 2022

0800, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

No orders had been given after letting Hassan go. You assumed others in the task force besides your fellow Sergeant and Lieutenant were on the lead from Hassan’s phone. You instead were to wait for further instructions and remain in the base along with the Mexican Special Forces and Shadow PMC boys. You seemed to be one of the only women around, and it seemed several pairs of eyes followed you wherever you went.

Except when Ghost was around apparently. Only at breakfast when you sat in silence with your team did you see people look at you then quickly avert their gaze.

The joke was on them, though. They may stereotype based on Ghost’s menacing aura and mask, but the most dangerous kind of person is the one you’d never expect.

Feeling a little restless, you found yourself training. First, to warm up, you decided to practice throwing knives. You were pretty confident in your skills, but it never hurt to be repetitive.

You began with the closest dummy, aiming for every major artery you could hit while your target was stationary. However, you, as well as anybody knew, that rarely did a perfect shot line up. Most of the time, you dealt with people running towards or away from you, which is why the moving feature of the target dummies was so useful. As it moved back and forth, you carefully but swiftly took your aim and hit the mark, this time only trying for the heart or head; any fancy knifework was not worth the possibilty of missing your mark, something you knew from experience.

You smiled at your own skills. You weren’t always like that though; You became good out of necessity, not fascination with the craft. However, the necessity was the best kind of teacher, where one missed mark would lead to death and every hit was a step to freedom.

As you walked up to retrieve the knives, you felt the weight of someone’s gaze on your back. A few of Graves’ boys were standing around, looking at your handiwork. And in the way back, you saw a familiar, masked face watching you too.

—

After an hour or so of doing knife work, you left to explore the other training facilities. It was a large base, one that had extensive opportunities for skill improvement that you fully intended to take advantage of.

You found the hand-to-hand area fairly quickly, on account of Soap and Ghost trying to take each other out. They were covered in a layer of sweat, indicating they had been at it a while.

“C’mon Johnny,” Ghost drawled out, “you can do better.”

“Go fuck yourself, Lt.” Johnny replied, attempting to land a punch in Ghost’s side, only to be blocked with ease.

You sat on the sideline and watched as they battled it out. In all honestly, both were very good, with only a handful of blows landing for each of them.

Eventually though, Ghost had Soap in headlock of sorts on the ground and Soap tapped out.

“Damn, Lt.,” Soap said, catching his breath. “gonna put me out of commission.”

“Nah, I think you still got some fight in you,” Ghost told him.

“I think I’m done for today,” Soap said. “Maybe we can rematch another time.”

“Alright, mate.”

As Soap walked off, Ghost grabbed his water and lifted the balaclava just enough for him to place the bottle to his lips.

You unabashedly watched his Adam’s apple move with each drink and stared at his lips as they cradled the bottle rim. Never before had you been so fascinated by a pair of lips, especially ones not belonging to a target. And even then, you were more interested in getting their lips on you so you could distract them enough to get what you really needed.

This time though, there was no ulterior motive to watching your superior officer. Just pure intrigue, one that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to fuel or douse with water.

Ghost finished his drink, pulled his balaclava back down, and turned to you. You did not startle when he looked straight at you; you figured he knew you were there from the moment you entered. He seemed like someone who was always aware, always on guard, just like you.

“Siren,” he greeted as you walked towards him.

“Need a sparring partner?” you asked, stopping to stand in front of him.

“You want to fight?” Ghost’s voice made the question seem more like a statement.

“Think I can’t handle you?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can handle me just fine, Sergeant,” he said with a low timbre that made a pang of desire to go through your body. “Just making sure.”

In lieu of an answer, you backed up to stand across from him and stood at the ready. He nodded at you and and you returned the gesture, signaling that you were ready for whatever he had in store.

He was large, but you were fast and a quick thinker. There had been many times that called for hand-to-hand and almost always, your opponent was bigger than you; this was no different.

Like in all the movies, you began just circling each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“You’re holding out on me, Lieutenant,” you baited.

“I could say the same,” he replied.

You circled each other on the mat a few more times before you finally decided to make the first move.

You approached quickly, acting as if you were going to punch him in the face but instead went for a gut shot with your other fist. Not your best move, but the fight was just getting started.

He grabbed your wrist before it made contact with his stomach, his grip bruising.

You easily broke out of his hold but not before he threw a swing your way. You leaned out of the way, barely, and instead kicked him in his side. His hand briefly encircled your ankle before you yanked it back, not allowing him to end the fight just yet.

Almost immediately he was on you again, this time actually landing a hit with a knee to your stomach. You briefly doubled over and he unsuccessfully attempted to follow up by grabbing you, only stopped by your quick recovery.

You traded blows back and forth, with each hit becoming more and more passion-fueled.

After a few minutes he finally got ahold of you fully by grabbing your ponytail and pulling you by it. In your attempt to free yourself he grabbed both wrists and held them in one hand.

Ghost held you against his body, with you facing away from him. One hand wrapped around your throat while the other was occupied keeping your wrists from breaking free.

“Mmm, kinky,” you purred, arching your back to press further into his hold. “But you’re going to have to try harder than that to impress me.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, tightening his grip around your neck.

“Yeah,” you answered, going limp in his arms. Caught off guard, his grip faultered, allowing you to break free from his grip and sweet his feet from under him. You wasted no time straddling him and pinning his wrists above his head.

You didn't get to celebrate the small victory, though, because within seconds he was flipping you over, putting you in the same position. You attempted to buck your hips up and free yourself but he didn’t budge.

You let yourself go limp once more, this time in mock-defeat.

“Give up?” Ghost teased, bringing his masked-face closer to you.

You knew you weren't the only one to feel the tension constantly tying the two of you together; he played dirty, as evidenced by yanking on your hair. You wouldn't show him any mercy just because the two of you shared moments

You widened your eyes in feigned surprise at the closeness. He stopped so close that you could feel his breath brush against your lips, and you could see individual fibers sticking out of the balaclava.

You made your breath hitch, causing him to glance down. You bit your lip and watched his gaze follow the action. You wanted him to feel like a predator, finally catching his prey; like he was in control.

He brought your wrists together so he could hold them together while his free hand found itself around your throat once again. You leaned into the touch, and he slid his hand upwards, thumb moving to touch your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly and he took it as an invitation to slip it in to rest on your tongue. Without pause, you hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked and caressed it with your tongue, eliciting a very quiet groan from the man above you. He took his thumb out from your mouth and dragged it down your chin and neck, stopping at the top of your tank top on your chest. Ghost’s eyes were a wildfire, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to be utterly and completely consumed by it.

However, you needed to prove to him that you could handle yourself just fine.

Right as he breathed in to say something, you quickly headbutted him as hard as you could and in the confusion, brought your legs to your chest and pushed him off completely.

You scrambled to jump on top of him and lock his head in between your legs. You tightened your hold as he tried to pry you off of him to no avail.

“Give up?” you mocked with a smirk.

He patted the mat twice with a hand and you released him from your hold.

You both got to your feet, both breathing heavily, and you reached out a hand.

Ghost grabbed it and shook it firmly. Before letting go, he pulled you closer, bringing you within inches of his face.

“You play a dangerous game, Siren,” he warned quietly.

“I invented the game, Ghost,” you told him with a coy smile.

For a moment, everything was still. It felt like that tension was finally going to snap, and maybe you could finally get him out of your system. His eyes dropped to your lips again and you took a small step closer. It felt like walking a tightrope, this back and forth with him.

But instead, he dropped your hand, eyes roaming beyond you and to the group of Shadows and Graves that just walked in.

Without another word, Ghost left, leaving you to relish in your victory and think about the taste of his skin.

—

Later, you finished off your training at the range once again, this time using an MCPR-300 sniper rifle for a change. You were doing fairly well, managing to hit the bullseye for a majority of the shots when you heard someone walk in behind you.

“It’s me.” Soap walked up, taking the window beside you and pulling out his own rifle. “Pretty sweet facility, eh?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “Haven’t practiced in something this nice in a while.”

“I thought the Americans were all about the military,” he commented, attaching his scope.

“Oh, they are,” you reassured. “I’m never in the same place for very long so I don’t get to experience it much anymore.”

Soap lined up his rifle for a shot. He took aim and fired, hitting the target in the head. You took a turn, running through the same ritual. Breathe, aim, fire.

“But not in the beginning?” he asked.

“No, I joined just like everyone else,” you told him.

Both of you traded shots back and forth for a bit. You let the silence sit, knowing that he likely would drop any questions if you stayed quiet. But a part of you geniuenly was curious about your teammates; the only time you ever got to know people was reading their file right before being tasked with killing them. It was a lonely life, not that you minded most of the time. You decided that you would let yourself be companionable, just for the time being, just until you were alone again.

“Why’d you join?” you asked him.

“Cousin was in the British Army and I visited him a lot,” Soap told you. “I wanted to join too. I even lied about my age a few times, but I got caught every time.”

You chuckled at the thought. He laughed as well, but a blush spread up his neck in embarrasment at the tale.

“You?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not much else to do. Didn’t know my parents, aged out of the system. It was something to do and something to keep food in my stomach.”

“Damn,” he said quietly. You figured it was out of pity and not only did you not want it, you didn’t want to bring down the entire conversation. It was a lonely upbringing, yes, and not the easiest either. But at the end of the day, you survived. Your time growing up didn't even make it in the top fifteen of the more less-than-ideal situations you had been in. It really was a matter of perspective. And to Soap, who has no clue about the rest of your life, you knew how it sounded and why he reacted in that way.

“Doesn’t really bother me,” you told him. “Maybe back then, but I’m glad I joined. I’m good at what I do and I’m not sure who I’d be without it.”

The last bit was a little more than you intended on admitting, but you trusted these men to watch your back, it wasn’t too much more to let them have a glimpse of your true self, whoever she was. Between the different masks and personas, you sometimes got a small taste of who you used to be, but for the most part, she was long gone, hidden away.

You stood in the silence together, both of you continuing to practice. It was nice, the feeling of camaraderie. It made you a little melancholy to think of going back to working alone. It was inevitable though; most jobs you did called for deep infilatration and just you. Recently, your assignments had been shorter, not requiring you to integrate yourself seemlessly in a targets life, but you have had your fair share of them over the years.

“Siren?”

Both you and Soap looked to the Shadow who walked into the range.

“Yes?” you answered.

“General Shepherd is asking for you.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be right there.” you told him, beginning to disassemble your gun.

“Wonder why,” Soap muttered after the mercenary left.

“No idea,” you told him.

—

“General,” you greeted as his face popped up over the video call.

He sighed.

“Siren, I need a win right now,” he began. “There are some… unfortunate events that have occurred that are keeping Laswell away. It’s being taken care of, but we need more on these missiles.”

You wanted to ask about Laswell, but his tone was enough to deter you. Surely, you would hear about it soon anyways.

“Go out and be my eyes and ears,” he ordered. “No need to exterminate any of the locals, but wear a wire or something for Mexican Special Forces to listen in and translate. See if you can hear anything about the head of the cartel. I have a feeling that will be the next place we have to look.”

“Of course, sir,” you told him. “To clarify, you want only me to go?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. Just double checking.” You could just imagine how annoyed Ghost will be. He's already shown that he wants you to have backup, though if the roles were reversed, he would refuse it for himself. This time, though, your hands were tied, even if you did want someone watching your back.

He nodded and ran a hand down over his face. He looked about ten years older than usual and clearly has had some difficulty sleeping if his dark circles were anything to go by. “I need this done tonight. I want a debrief when the night is over.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taglist:

#ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mw22

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