Gia,29, She/her. I think I'm getting a hang of this😋! Trying to make the world a better place. ♥ Huge fan of Call of duty, Halo (Game and show) universe, Seal team and Marvel. Absolutely crazy for lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Master chief 117 and Master chief Jason Hayes.
Warnings: 18+, Dub-Con, Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Dominant! Ghost, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Master/Servant Dynamics, Voyeurism, Public Humiliation, Sexual Coercion, Scene Inspired by ‘Spartacus’, Based on Spartacus’ In-Universe History, Profanity, Implied Fem! Reader, Images Used aren't Mine.
Gladiator! Ghost abuses his power over you every chance he gets. No exceptions.
And all because you had to go and show him voluntary kindness, tending to his post-battle wounds and praising him for his efforts, all while touching him as delicately and as gently as you could. More so than anyone ever has.
It’s not long after this interaction that you find yourself stationed as Gladiator! Ghost's personal handmaiden; the perfect servant to see that his every desire is satiated.
And, unfortunately for you, that often includes him coercing you into compromising positions.
Even when he’s been training all day, his muscles bulging, skin glistening with sweat, eyes ablaze with bloodlust, he finds time to seek you out and take you someplace isolated and quiet – where nobody else can see or save you – and pumps his fury into you.
He’s never gentle with it, either. He isn’t trained to be.
He’s panting, chest heaving and broad at your back as he presses you into the stone wall of the cellar, your legs forcefully parted by a thick, toned thigh – the skin of which is covered in your dripping essence – as he pounds into you with all his might.
He calls you his maid – only his. Tells you that no-one else can have you, that they’d have to kill him if they wanted to possess you as he does.
And you take it because that’s all you can do. All you’re allowed to do.
You let him make your body feel like this is right, that the cracks of euphoria splintering between your legs justifies the way he grabs your hair and pulls you back to face him, only to force his eager tongue into your mouth.
You clench around him – unwillingly so. Encourage him.
You hear him groan, feel his voice heavy on your tongue before he pulls away, slipping a hand beneath the fabric of your tunic and squeezing your clit between his fingers. You cry out, pressing back into him, taking him deeper.
“You’re mine,” he tells you. He punctuates his point with a quick, harsh slap to your clit – one that leaves you whining. “I’ll give you my babe – give you the privilege of bringing my son into this world.”
Amidst the reluctant pleasure electrifying your every sense, you know he’s close. His tip – pressing into the deepest part of you, a place you didn’t even know existed before he found it – bulbous and aching, pulses in time with his heartbeat. You close your eyes and brace for it – the warmth, the wet. The inevitable.
And, sure as rain after thunder, Ghost growls, pressing as deep into you as your body will allow and then some, as he cums, hot and heavy. You can physically feel his semen pumping through his shaft as he empties every ounce of his seed into your wanting womb – filled beyond full – leaving you whining and trying your best to pull away from his cock.
He holds you still and glowers, a vein across his bicep twitching – almost winking at you – as he slams his hand beside your head, caging you . As if to remind you that he’s the one in charge here.
So you still, panting, sweating and almost crying, as his seed nestles inside you, knowing there’s nothing you can do until he’s ready to let you go – until he’s sure his efforts have taken. And all you can focus on is how heavy he feels inside you, the feeling of his chest almost crushing you against the wall as he breathes deeply. The gradual softening of his tip at your cervix as he grows flaccid.
The hand between your thighs – coated translucent and white – comes to rest upon your stomach. You can feel him looking down at the phantom bump from over your shoulder. His voice is obsidian.
“If I haven’t imparted him upon you already.”
In Ghost’s head, he’s justified in his actions. Even though he can feel you trying to peel away from him, your heart racing to the rhythm of fear and not of lust. Even though he knows you will likely retreat to your shared chambers and weep into your pillow. He knows, deep down, that you want as he does. A family.
It’s all he can think about aside from the bloodshed and the fight for survival. You are all he can think about. The only thing that can placate his rage.
It’s his reason. His only reason to continue.
In his own way, this is his manufacturing of a family. Turning you from a servant into the mother of his children, and transforming him – a beast – into a father.
Not that you’d know this, but he has more influence within the Master’s residence than most – especially as his most prized gladiator.
Whenever the Master throws parties, he convinces him to put the maids – you – on display, to show the other houses that his gladiators are not just fighters, but incessant lovers, too.
More often than not, you’ve had to strip bare and bear the weight of the stares of party-goers as Ghost, assigned to be the night’s show pony, makes sure everyone knows who you belong to.
It’s an exercise of power. Of ownership.
He makes no effort to hide his endurance, his speed, often finishing at a rate that leaves you terrified knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it, to hide away and prevent your seemingly inevitable pregnancy at the hands of the man you call Master.
Truth be told, you’d be ashamed of enjoying the weight of him inside you – the familiar feeling of his tip hitting a note within you that leaves you whining a wanton tune – if it weren’t for the fact that your situation could be worse – that it could be another of the Master’s loyal fighters pounding you, holding you and bruising your waist. Degrading you from a maid to a whore for all to see.
Ghost can see, during times like these, the women who wish to be you and the men who crave to be him. And he hides his smile beneath learned stoicism, even as he’s overcome with the euphoria of emptying himself inside you, lifting you by the hips so nothing of his making is wasted.
And you can do nothing to fight against it.
And, when he’s asked by some curious voyeur, he’ll do it all again. And again. And again.
This is the only way he can guarantee his seed takes – the only way he can make sure you won’t go off running trying to cleanse yourself of his semen rolling down your thighs, of his efforts taking form and bearing fruit inside you.
He knows it’s just a matter of time until he can afford both your and his freedom, until he can take you away from this place and raise your family together – someplace far from this spectacle of murder.
Until then, he’ll convince his Master to fund these social affairs, to allow you to remain as his maid.
His.
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Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
Masterpost
Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
Gladiator Ghost AI
Frank and Brad are apparently my two dads now... 👀😂
@sarnakhwritesthings @ghostslillady @frienah @officialnighttime @jemmalynette @emmaswanned @swiftzeldas and anybody else who sees this and would like to do it! *boops your nose politely* 🤗💖
Soap would be so fucking protective of you, and I can’t get it out my head. So now it’s your problem :)
You don’t like drinking? He’s the first to draw attention away from the lack of a beer bottle in your hand. Using that irresistible charm to woo everyone out of their questions and peer pressure to get you to join in. He sees how nervous it makes you. And he’s far too sensitive to your feelings to let it happen. Besides… he’s gotten really good at giving the right orders to bartenders, so that he can give you some fruity, soda-laden thing, that passes off as one of the other cocktails all your friends are nursing.
Uncomfortable family dinners? You know, that one where your least favorite uncle is oh-so-willing to give you shit for not going into the career all of them think you should’ve pursued? Oh hell no. Soap won’t spend one second thinking over whether it’s polite or not to speak up. He just does. Abandoning your mom’s casserole he’s been complimenting with a full mouth, just to look your bastard of an uncle in the face and tell him he’d be better off complaining to the business end of a pistol. At least then, he’d get a response that would shut him up for good.
That ex who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer? He’s as good as dead. Not that he’s instinctively jealous… because really, he knows better. It’s just the mere thought of someone taking advantage of your life. Of your time. He’s livid because you’re too special to be harassed like that. Treated like a game that can be picked up and put down whenever the mood arises. Soap won’t make a spectacle of it… but the monthly calls and texts suddenly stop after a while. And you think it’s because you finally broke down and changed your phone number a second time. But… that hadn’t stopped your ex the first time. Soap just shrugs. Giving the excuse that common sense might’ve given him a change of heart. Johnny just didn’t have the heart himself to tell you that ‘common sense’ didn’t have the chance. He was far quicker.
Soap had lived a life so uncomfortable for so long, that seeing a sweet thing like you experience it becomes intolerable. It’s as if all of the killing and destruction he’s committed was for nothing, when something -even trivial- blockades your walk through life. His nature is to fix the problem. And his training only enhanced the instinct to do it violently. Quick and controlled action, using brute force to make the world spin to your tempo. And god… you hate when he does it. Constantly reassuring him that you’re an adult. That you’re prepared for life not to be easy, and that it’s only going to make you stronger in the end.
He won’t hear it though.
He wants you soft. Desperately, actually. More of a requirement for his own happiness than anything. And often times he thinks that it’s selfish. That maybe he is truly robbing you of some experiences that might be good for you. Make the life you lead interesting for the kids and grandchildren you tell stories to. But then again, he’s so staunch in his ways, that it comes to fruition like muscle-memory. Placing you on your silken throne and taking a defensive stance in front of you like a medieval knight hellbent on keeping his royalty alive and well.
John MacTavish knows your place and it’s to be behind him. Right where he can protect and provide, without the fear of you crying or getting hurt by the seemingly endless amount of people who unfathomably don’t want the same things for you. They all say they love you… want the best… but he challenges it.
this is truly how i imagine simon to fuck you. a heavy hand smothering your moans; his hips punching his cock in, measured strokes hitting deep; dragging his hands along your body, feeling it underneath his touch; before tugging you closer to him, positioning you in the easiest way for him to fuck into. but, most of all, the silence from his end—a hunter. an apex predator.
your whole body shakes, pain and pleasure still mixing because it is all so overwhelming. so daunting. simon fucks you like a man starved; like your body is nothing but for him to use.
I know for a fact Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley would produce some CHUNKY babies so chunky people would think his Lovie is carrying twins but nope it’s just one CHUNKY ASS BABY and Simon would want a whole herd of babies and people would see the toddlers and young children and look at lovie and be like oh you poor mama
I don't even understand why biden WANTS to run again
if I was fucking 80 I'd be in bed!! all the time!! fuck you mean running a country?? I'm rewatching tik tok compilations in a bonnet w my dentures in a glass 😪😪
I just had a mind blowing thought! What if Ghost wasn’t romantically attracted to Soap, what if the reason he likes Soap and allows him to get away with more than others is because Soap reminds him of Tommy?? Because Ghost cared a lot about his younger brother and saw him as someone he had to protect at all cost and Soap had similar traits. What if the reason Ghost even allowed himself to get close to Soap in such a way that allowed him to be more comfortable with Soap is because he saw Tommy in him. And when Soap died, it was like Tommy dying all over again.
I dunno, I just thought of it and it lowkey made sense. Because someone like Ghost who had been through hell and back isn’t the type to easily get comfortable with others so quickly. And in MWII was the first time those two met so it wasn’t like they were old friends so him getting that close to him so easily and quickly was a little bit unusual to me unless there was a good reason. And my theory is Soap is a lot like Tommy in a way that Ghost couldn’t help but get comfortable with him. To him, Soap was like a little brother that he wanted to protect because he failed to do that before. And when Soap died, he took it hard because he lost another brother that he swore he’d protect.
in other news, I love when the 141 boys lack self-awareness (or at least, pointedly ignore their said self-awareness) around a cute girl.
Ghost tells himself it’s unsafe for a bird as cute as you to be walking home alone. he takes it upon himself to follow you in the shadows alllllll the way back to make sure you get home safe! (your door splits at its hinges when he forces himself inside behind you–)
Price knows a lot of people hate their routine trip to the gyno. he also knows some doctors can be fucking creeps. he decides the best way to break you in and soothe your nerves is by sliding his lubed-up specula into you and stretching you out. (he blows on your cute pussy, too. maybe pats your clit.)
you complain to Gaz, your best friend, about how your ex keeps sending you unsolicited dick pics :/ you hate it. does nobody know boundaries anymore? imagine your shock when an image of Gaz’s veiny, plump cock suddenly splits over your phone screen. (just showin’ you what a real cock looks like love, he says.)
Soap keeps huffing and whining while you’re on facetime with him. you’re crying your eyes out about something that went wrong that day. you spiel about how crass people are, how nobody takes your feelings seriously, while all he does is oddly pant and gasp on the other end. (right as you mewl, your cries cresting, a white, sticky impact crack splits your screen like a mosaic. Soap licks it off himself.)
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