okay...what about surprise pregnancy but you aren't sure whose it is? (18+, ghoap x f!reader babytrap)
you come crying to simon, so embarrassed when you see johnny there, too. they coax you to sit down, standing side by side, and you explain through sputters and soft tears that you're pregnant, and you're so sorry, you're even more sorry because you're not sure if it's johnny's baby or simon's baby.
you didn't cheat, you never put labels on anything, you thought you were just having fun, but now they're finding out at the same time that you were sleeping around, and you were totally irresponsible--
you freeze, hiccuping when you notice that simon and johnny aren't even looking at you anymore. simon has a gloved hand in johnny's hair, wrapping those thick fingers into his mohawk and pulling until johnny's neck snaps back, and he's baring his throat to simon.
"mmm..." simon growls a little, and your lip trembles when simon hikes his mask up to lick over johnny's cheek before kissing him wet and sloppy. "good boy. olways doin' as y'r told..."
you squeeze your legs together when simon cups your jaw, drawing you closer. he fits a thumb into your mouth to soothe you, and johnny coos as he brushes your hair out of your eyes. it was a team effort, after all, no need to fret.
tw: dark fic, dark content, dubcon, obsessive behavior, E rated, 18+, mature themes
Part 1, 2, of 3? 4? 5? (More parts planned)
You had lucked out at the office white elephant party this year. You drew the shortest straw, which normally was a bad omen, but in this particular situation meant you got to pick the last gift, or steal the gift of your choice, assuming it hadn’t been stolen twice already and when it finally came down to the last present and you ripped open the wrapping on a candle scented as something called “Caramel Cashmere” you knew you’d be taking your pick of the lot.
You surveyed the circle with sharp eyes. Two mugs, a blanket with a kitten surrounded by pink feathers emblazoned on it, a sample tray of exotic meat sausages, a gift basket from Sephora, An assortment of flavored Schnapps nip bottles with a set of shot glasses, a pair of AirPod pros (that had already been stolen twice and were thus, out of the game), two tickets to see some standup comedian named Roy Ramheart at the Holiday Inn over the weekend and lastly a two week trial to the brand new bougie gym that opened up downtown.
You turned slowly in the middle of the circle, shitty candle in hand, eyeing each person and their presents one by one. Sharon was shaking the blanket with the feathers and kitten on it, trying to entice you with it. Mark, the gym rat, was trying to hide the two week gym trial under his crossed arms. Maureen was already unpacking the Airpods and changing the heads to one’s that would be most comfortable to her ears, everyone else looked beyond bored. You did one more rotation before stopping in front of Mark who let out an irritated huff as you held out the large beige candle to him. He snatched the candle from your hand and reluctantly held out the gym brochure.
You grabbed it and opened it, leafing through it as the rest of the office stood and began to chatter about their new gifts with heated exchange, there’d be secret swaps later no doubt. Someone turned the music back up and the circle slowly broke and dispersed into a half drunk crowd of sloppy dancing and idle chatter.
Mark came up to you, obviously upset with your steal of the gym trial. “You could’ve had the Sephora gift basket. Maybe you’d get laid a little more if you indulged in some makeup.” You looked up at him, a winning smirk on your face, unfazed by his nasty jest and looked back down at the flashy brochure. Your office bestie Nancy came over and Mark strode away, annoyed at losing out to you and failing to get under your skin.
“What was that about?” You looked up at her and rolled your eyes as she stared after him. “Sore loser.” She eyed the brochure in your hands. “I see you got Mrs. Magna’s gym trial.” You smiled and popped the trial in your purse. “So it was hers, I had a feeling.” She handed you a little red cup full of spiked punch. “Got it in the mail yesterday, she’s already gotten four of them and I was about to throw it out with the rest of the junk but then I remembered she still needed something for the white elephant thing so I saved it back, good thing too, the other option was a airmall catalog from her last business trip.”
You rolled your eyes, your boss had always been contemptuous at best, and if she held the whole of the office at foot level she held your best friend Nancy, her secretary, in the dirt. You had spent countless hours after work, drinks in hand listening to her vent about being Mrs. Magna’s doormat for forty hours a week.
You sucked down the last of the punch in your cup and regarded the hazy swirling quality the room had taken, it was time to go home. “I’m headed home, Nance. You wanna catch a ride with me?” She looked down at her feet, a look you’ve seen all too often, one that meant she’d be taking it face first again. “Gotta stay and clean up. She’s got an early board meeting in the morning and they’re having it here, so I’ve got to have this place spotless by 6:15.”
“God, does that woman ever give you a break?” She pulled you in for a hug and took your empty cup from your hands, replacing it with your purse. “Get home safe, and text me when you get there, yeah?” You smiled and nodded before turning for the door, pulling out your phone and opening up Uber.”
When you were home and locked up tight you texted Nancy, brushed your teeth and fell into bed, letting the buzz carry you to sleep.
You woke up the next morning, sour taste in your mouth and head throbbing dully. You slowly lurched from the nest of your bed and shambled into the bathroom, wincing at the brightness of the lights as you flicked them on and breathing out shakily as you shut them off again. With the little corner window casting gentle waxy rays into the space you turned on the shower and set about brushing your teeth. Bad taste gone, you climbed under the flow of steamy hot water and let the force of it all wash away your grogginess and began to feel just a bit better.
When you were out and dressed you made a light breakfast and pulled your white elephant gift from your purse. The front showed the shiny new building and the fancy letters at the top read “Baliquinox”. The brochure outlined the extent of the trial, all amenities available for the duration of the trial, including but not limited to the scheduled hot yoga, cycling and something called gravity assisted pilates. The gym also advertised a sauna, a full length Olympic sized pool, an in-house smoothie “artist”, as well as massage therapists and personal trainers on staff.
On the back of the brochure various payment plans were listed for membership packages, starting in the thousands, you immediately flipped the brochure back over to the front, two weeks was all you had, but you were going to make the most of it. If you could come up with a routine that you could do at home then you could give up the luxurities that came with the cushy admission price.
A week later you found yourself in front of the glitzy building, gym bag in hand as you stared at the shiny made up people behind the gleaming doors. Walking into the bustle of people you are met with a long white desk, there’s two people behind the counter, a fit beautiful woman and strong chiseled man, both already occupied with customers. But while the actual humans are occupied there is a row of kiosks set up with a sign above them that claims they can help you.
You walk up to one hesitantly and find that it’s actually a really simple process, you scan the barcode on the back of your brochure, type in some preliminary basic information, your name, address, email and phone number, and your free two week trial has begun. The machine spits out a laminated wristband at you. You tear it at the dotted lines, place it around your wrist and now you’re good to go. The machine wishes you a very productive workout and sends you on your way.
You walk further into the building, following a colored line on the floor that claims it will take you to the locker room. As you follow the line your eyes scan your surroundings, to your left are three glass rooms. One is currently occupied by a spin class, the next some sort of dance exercise class, the thumpy music felt through the floor in your feet but unheard to you outside of the walls, the last was a hot yoga class, you could tell by the mats on the floor and the condensation on the glass but as you were watching the instructor pressed a button on the tablet she was holding and the glass grayed out before your eyes, concealing the room from view.
You passed a room which you guessed held the pool, the sounds of echoing splashes crashed against the walls. Finally you could see the locker rooms before you, a door split off into men’s and women’s, keeping to the right you found yourself in an expansive room filled wall to wall with lockers. You came up to one with a green light on the front and pulled on the door, it opened freely and you began to change. When you had on your workout clothes you put the bag inside and shut the door, as you stepped away the light changed from green to red, signifying it had locked and you left the locker room.
You found the open gym space by following a different line on the floor. The room was split up into sections, one for machines, one for free weights, and one for cardio. Meandering into the cardio section you found a row of Peloton treadmills that stretched the length of the wall while the other side were full with cycle machines. You opted for a run to start with. There were a couple treadmills in use at the front but the ones in back were empty. You picked one by the far wall, stepping up onto it and putting your headphones in. You looked up at yourself in the mirror lined wall, taking in a deep breath before finding a song and picking a speed.
Head down and focused you let your footfalls come to the forefront of your mind, the only thing that mattered, soon the room around you faded and became unimportant. You had just broken out a sweat, head lifting and eyes opening to meet the mirrors of your own on the wall, but that wasn’t all.
Standing behind you, eyes connected with yours was a ruggedly handsome man, he stood behind you a few feet back from the treadmill and when you caught him staring he didn’t look away ashamed, just held your gaze with shockingly pale blue eyes. He wore black athletic shorts and a white shirt with the gym's name across his chest, he definitely worked here, personal trainer maybe, judging by his ripped physique. His lips turned up in a smirk and it was you who finally broke the locked gaze.
You looked down at your phone, shuffled through a few songs before checking the mirror again, he was still there. You were about to turn and speak to him when he turned on foot and headed out of the cardio section and out of sight. You stopped the machine and took a moment to take in your surroundings. There were a few more patrons in the cardio section of the gym but they didn’t seem to notice this interaction between you and the handsome stranger at all and there didn’t seem to be some kind of maintenance going on or equipment around you that was needed, warranting the long stare you’d received from the employee.
You turned back to your machine and after looking once more over your shoulder for any other disturbance you resumed your workout, picking up the pace and settling into a jog. It wasn’t five minutes later that the man was back, this time though he was strolling the area and looking, quite obviously, anywhere but you. You felt heat rising in your cheeks and somehow more exposed than before, you almost regretted this isolated treadmill towards the back of the room.
He had passed the other patrons at this point, there was no reason for him to walk back this way any further other than to speak to you. Still you felt compelled to keep your head down, like somehow you weren’t supposed to be here. He stopped behind you once more and the hair on the back of your neck pricked to points. As you made up the courage to confront him he took the first step, walking up to the side of your machine and tapping the handle arm.
Pulling one earbud out you turned the machine down to a walk, a little annoyed at the interruption but compliant and friendly as you could be. “Yes?” He flashed you a smile and gods was he handsome, tan skin, nice white teeth, he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine, absolutely a personal trainer, but what did he want with you?
“Hi, m’name’s Johnny. I’m a personal trainer, dinnae think I’ve seen you around before.” His voice is gruff and that accent, Scottish? Maybe. Delicious whatever it is. “I’m new, first day.” He rocked back on his heels slightly, smile never faltering. “Ahh, I see. Ken I’d never seen ye before, would’ve remembered such a pretty face.” Charming as well, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze for a moment, the intensity of his presence a little faltering. When you speak your voice is a bit higher pitched than you’d wish and he knows he’s flustered you just a little.
“Yeah. Yeah, just umm.. just started my workout actually. Didn’t get very far.” You turn to go back to the machine but he reaches out and grabs your wrist and it stops you, your eyes flick back to his baby blues. “Have ye set your goals?” One eyebrow shoots up. “My goals?” That dazzling smile is back, it’s bright, nearly blinding. “Yer workout goals, cannae start yer workout without yer goals, hen. Gotta ken where yer at and where yer goin’.”
You consider this for a moment, a little off guard before stuttering forth an answer. “I’d like to work on my cardio.” It’s a simple enough answer, and seems stupid considering that’s what you were doing before he interrupted you and you thought maybe it was enough for him to leave you be, as handsome as he was you wanted to be polite but you also wanted to get back to it.
“That’s a good start bonnie. But we need to know where yer at still. Follow me.” And then he turns away, obviously expecting you to follow him. You stop the machine and stand idly for a moment, unsure what you’ll do, you probably could just go back to walking and that’d be the end of it, and maybe that’s what you should do, but you think it’d be rude, he was being nice so far and maybe he could help you set some real goals to accomplish, he is after all a personal trainer. It would be stupid to pass up his professional help. You climb off the treadmill and walk towards him, speed walking a little to catch up.
He carts you through the gym, and it feels like you’ve walked the whole length of the building, passed through a few sets of double doors, long since stopped seeing any patrons actually exercising. Now you feel like you’re in the back rooms of the gym, maybe where you’re not supposed to be. But you still follow him, keeping track of where you’ve been and how to get out if you have to, you know, just in case.
He finally opens the door to a room and pushes you in, it’s small but furnished. A single ancient treadmill pushed into one of the corners, a few scales against the far wall, charts explaining how to find your BMI and the nutrition pyramid are tacked to the wall. He shuts the door and the room takes on a warm and stuffy quality.
He starts by measuring your height. There’s a laminated ruler all the way up one wall and he pushes you up against it, kicking your feet until your heels touch the wall. You feel the strength in his hands as they bracket your hips, controlling you with just the minute movements of his wrists, caging you closer to take “the most accurate” measurements.
His breath is in your face, warm and minty as he places a finger at the tippy top of your head to pinpoint your height. You would think he’d have some sort of chart or goal sheet to jot these numbers down but he’s typing them into his phone instead, after all everything was online these days.
When he had your height he motioned for you to step on the scale, something you were a bit hesitant to do. “Don’t be fashed, bonnie. S’all part of the process.” You step up on the scale and after he takes a careful moment to be sure it’s settled he records your weight. You think it all might be over and you can go back to your workout when he says “Open.” You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded and he waits patiently for you to comply.
“Open?” He grips you by the chin gently and taps his thumb against your lower lip, and your breath hitches at the gentle but intrusive gesture. “Open up.” You slowly part your lips and he smiles, his pretty blue eyes staring at your lips and you’re beyond flustered, thighs shifting uncomfortably. “Wider.” You do as he says, not sure how any of this is necessary but too far gone to stop now. “Good girl.”
He rocks your head from side to side, thoroughly examining your mouth, you feel his thumb apply pressure to your plush lower lip, drawing it down and you feel the saliva in your mouth gathering uncontrollably. The weight of it dips and you're backing away so as to not drool on his hand, your lower lip plopping back in place, but not before a drop of it collects on his thumb.
He looks you, unabashedly in the eye as he lifts his thumb to his lips and pushes the digit with your drool on it into his mouth. Your eyes are as big as saucers but without skipping a beat, and without recording any kind of data on that last test? Measurement? Examination of your mouth, he moves you over onto the treadmill and starts it up. He starts at a low speed and as the tread begins to move under your feet you have no choice but to move along with it.
It’s a walk, no sweat and you look over to see him watching your hips, his eyes flick up to yours and he leans forward and ups the speed. Now you’re at a light jog and you can no longer watch him directly. You hear him walking around the treadmill, alternating between being directly behind you and off to your side. He ups the speed again until you’re full on running, arms pumping as you try to keep up with the tread, you’re breathing quite heavily, chest heaving with each breath.
He turns it up again, just a notch but it’s past your limit and you’re struggling to keep up now, the heels of your feet nearly dangling over the end of the tread, you speak in between breaths, telling him you can’t keep up, it’s too fast. “Just a little more, hen. Keep goin’.” He’s behind you, you hope he’ll catch you if you come flying off the end, and just when you thought you would he comes up and hits the emergency stop and you feel the tread’s speed dwindle beneath your feet. When it stops you stand there, heart beating triple time in your chest, your arms gripping the arm rest until he comes up and makes you place them interlaced behind your head.
He says nothing while you recover, just plugs more data into his phone and when you’re better he looks up at you with cold assessing eyes, the baby blues icing over and chilling you. But then that smile resurfaces and they melt into pools of tropical blue and he speaks.
“Alright, lass. I'll do it.” And he just stands there not explaining until you ask. “Do what?” He laughs and it’s a gorgeous sound that still manages to unnerve you. “I’ll be your personal trainer.” You have a lot of questions and are about to voice them when he pulls you out of the room and has you following him again, talking the whole while.
“We’re gonna stretch your goals a bit. “Working on your cardio” isn’t exactly gonna cut it. We will work on your cardio, because trust me lass, it needs work.” You’re slightly offended at this, but he pushes right on through without soothing it. “But we are gonna get you in shape together. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s got a whole plan mapped out for ye already.” He takes you into a little cove by the front where a bunch of people are seated and drinking smoothies. This must be the smoothie artist you read about in the brochure. He walks up to the counter, bypassing the line and orders something you can hear from the table you sat down at. He’s handed two drinks and brings them over.
Handing one to you he sits across from you and when you don’t try it right off he sets authoritative eyes on you and deadpans in a no nonsense tone. “Drink.” You bring the straw to your lips and suck, which seems to please him and the fruit mixture that floats to your tongue is sweet and refreshing. “Now I want ye to do some homework for me when ye get home tonight. Two… nah. Make it three sets of sit-ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.” You look at him and know that now is the time to tell him, you guess he just didn’t know or didn’t think to ask. “Johnny.” He looks up at you, eyes alight with excitement. “Yes, hen.”
“I’m only gonna be here for two weeks. I’m doing the free trial thing.” He keeps on staring like what you’ve said hasn’t registered and after a moment he adds. “And?” You thought it was clear but it seems you’ll have to go further. “I’m not sure I’ll be committing to coming back.” This is a lie. You know you can’t afford a membership and after your two weeks are up you simply couldn’t keep coming. But this seems to not matter in the slightest as he replies. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah? Til’ then three sets of sit ups, two sets of toe touches and ten lunges.”
You don’t know what to say so you just nod and he smiles and despite yourself you feel almost relieved to see it. “Good. Come in tomorrow at three and we’ll get started on yer first real workout.”
“But I don’t get off work til 4.” He smiles and knocks once on the table with his knuckles. “4:30 it is then. Don’t be late.” With that he stands and walks away, leaving you with a half finished smoothie and conflicting emotions.
Later that night after you found yourself compelled to at least finish the “homework” he’d assigned and after you’d repacked your gym bag with fresh clothes and climbed into bed, the image of him pushing his thumb into his mouth filled your head until you burned in bed like a torch. His pale blue eyes, dark hair, tan skin, all very conventionally attractive aspects of his features but there was more, a more secretive darker part of you that was drawn to the way he picked you out. Took notice of you immediately and coerced you into training under him, even after he knew you might not commit.
The burn of it became too much and you grabbed for the vibrator in your nightstand, coming at the thought of those strong arms hooked around your thighs and those pale blue eyes peering up at you from the junction of your thighs. At 4:30 the next day you found yourself in front of Baliquinox, gym bag in hand and nervous.
need to be in the middle of a ghost and soap sandwich 🤤
I actually couldn’t help myself 🥲 i had to write a lil somethin for this, like omg
Dark!ghost x reader x Dark!Soap
CW: kidnapping
The first emotion that hits you when see their watchful eyes leering out of the shadows comes as a surprise. You don’t feel the fear first, or the heart grinding intimidation that follows, your first feeling is of relief.
You come from a long line of terrible men that work in the dark. Ever a servant of them, the runt and the youngest of the family, you know what happens when they’re made to be targets. You don’t see the enemy coming, instead you stand having a conversation, going about your day like always - until the moment comes when your skull shatters into tiny pieces and your blood sprays out like a high pressure sprinkler jet.
No one ever sees their assassins coming.
Therefore you decide that you’re safe in the knowledge that the men that are slowly and purposefully striding towards the patio aren’t here to kill you. Though your ease recedes the moment you wonder what they could want from someone like you.
Your throat clenched. You forgot that you could scream.
You have no connections to any of your family’s dealings and you’re not particularly well liked either. If they were to hold you for ransom you’d only end up dead…or maybe they didn’t know that yet, you thought chillingly.
The men’s massive frames were close to looming over you now. You could feel the weight of their shadows crushing you as they rose over your feet and slowly swallowed the light over your body. One wore a skull mask and the other had his face bear, his expression set in a hauntingly icy scowl. It’s enough to wring a chill out of you, working it’s way up and down your spine like a jolt of electricity. Your whole body was wired when they come to a stop in front of you.
“Wh- what do you want?” You whispered, staring between the two sets of narrowed eyes.
Neither of them said anything to begin with. They shared a brief look toward each other before locking their eyes on you again. The one with his face uncovered smiled, it didn’t reach his frosty blue eyes.
“Why’re you askin’?” He chuckled. “Will you give us what we want if we tell you?”
His words form an icicle in your chest. It rips through your insides and stabs at your lungs. The way he said that, the way he leered at you as he said it… maybe they were going to kill you. Though not until they had their fun.
Your lip wobbled and the slow tremors that had been wracking your body had descended into full blown shakes. It was if a hurricane had broken out between you all, as if their shadows had swallowed up all the warmth left in the world.
“Poor thing,” the masked man cooed, clicking his tongue patronisingly. “You’re shaking hard, sweetheart.”
“That’s right…shaking like a little scared kitten,” the other chimes.
They both have accents. They’re not from around your parts.
You widen your eyes, taking a step back as they start to move in closer. Their strides far outmatch yours. The dance between you all is short and your faltering steps take you straight back into the wall. Your chest is struggling to keep up with your tiny breaths.
“Please.”
“Please what?” The masked man asks, leaning his forearm on the wall above you.
You shudder underneath him.
“Don’t…Don’t hurt me.”
The unmasked man comes to your side and drags you toward his chest, you were powerless to stop him. It was like your body had cemented itself into place like a statue, unable to move yourself and only able to be manipulated. The man’s body was hard, it wasn’t just the extensive body armour he wore, his arms were solid across your centre.
“We’re only here right now because we don’t want to hurt you, isn’t that right Ghost?”
‘Ghost’ pushes himself off the wall and turns to face you again. Now that his friend has you pinned up against him, you’re powerless to stop him gripping your chin. The rough material of his ripped up gloves catches on your soft skin.
“Mm, that’s right. Terrible shame to ruin somethin’ so pretty. Look at you.”
He tilts your chin up at the last second, forcing you to look directly into the depthless oceans that are boring holes into you. You feel the man behind you start to raise his arm, ever so slowly he snakes his hand up your front and comes to a stop at your collarbone. I’m only a few seconds he’s gripping your neck, breath hot at your ear.
“Of course we can always follow through with our original orders…we can still kill you,” he says, a smile playing in the undertones of his whisper. “Or…you could come with us. Let us take you somewhere nice and safe, be our little plaything if you fancy.”
Ghost holds your gaze the entire time that his friend speaks, there’s a glint in his eyes that’s unmistakable. You can tell he’s grinning like a poltergeist as he continues to loom over you, trailing his fingers down your face and arms and hair and anywhere he cares to really.
You can’t give them an answer. Your lips are closed tight, you feel like you’re underwater. If you were to open your mouth you felt like you might drown.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Ghost croons. “We’ll take care of you. You can trust us.”
It’s too much. They’re both pressed up against you too hard, their breaths are so hot and jagged with menace, and their looming statures make you feel like a mouse. You feel yourself sob and try to breathe despite yourself.
“Don’t cry, pretty thing. Just say yes and we can go somewhere nice and cosy. We can leave all this unpleasantness behind, yeah? Doesn’t that sound good?”
Your mouth falls open, a silent scream billowing forth. It sounds like a last dying breath. Soaps hand clamps over your lips like a gag, his heavy tuts are echoing in your ears soon after.
“Now that won’t do,” Ghost chides. “That won’t do at all.”
He draws a knife from one of his many pockets, a long one. It gleams in the moonlight and reflects into your eyes, forcing you to squint even as you shy from it. As if you had anywhere to go. You were stuck to his friend like a rat in a glue trap.
Ghost took his knife and brandished it in front of you, allowing you to get a feel for it’s size, it was about the length of your forearm. It could have killed you in seconds. All of a sudden your pulse quickened and you felt your vision go hazy.
He let the knife drop to his side and took your chin in his other hand again. His pupils were wide as he looked down at you. The wolf had caught his prey, he didn’t need to play with you any longer now. This was the moment. Would he kill you or spare you?
“We’ll only ask once more, sweetheart. Do you wanna come with us or would you like us to follow our orders?” He asked, voice raspy with anticipation.
“I’ll take my hand away now,” Soap said. “If you try to scream we’ll assume you choose the latter option.”
All at once your mouth is free again, and before you can even think to process what’s been said you find words are spilling out of your lips unbidden.
“I’ll c-come with you. Just don’t hurt me please, I’ll come. Just- j- please…” you whine, your breaths finally cutting off your last sentence.
Both men unclench their muscles, Ghosts shoulders roll down and his eyes upturn with joy. The knife in his left hand disappears into his jacket once more and he takes a step back, allowing you a little breathing room even if you were still pressed up against the Scotsman.
“Don’t you worry, we won’t hurt you,” the other man soothes. “No one’s gonna hurt you ever again, darlin’. Right, Ghost?”
“Right. It’s just like Soap says, we’ll take you somewhere nice. You can stop shaking now. Just listen to us and do as we say and you won’t worry about anything ever again.”
As reassuring as he’s pretending to be you can see right through the facade. Though you’re powerless to do anything against them. And so you gently nod and glue your eyes to the ground, putting one foot in front of the other as the now named Soap motions for you to get walking.
Each step feels like a nail, every little scrape of your feet on the tiles is like a hammer against coffin wood. You can’t help the tears from flowing.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re ok,” Ghost whispers, reaching over and wiping at your tears. “You’re ours now.”
cw manipulation/stalking, voyeurism, dark. im not tagging this very carefully so read at ur discretion; nsa agent soap x fem writer reader
nsa agent soap who first sees your profile when you get flagged for searching “ingredients for a pipe bomb”. ‘s routine to check things like this out even if he gives a little chuckle at the word ‘ingredient’ that tells him this probably isn’t a problem and… yep, he scrolls down the list of your most recent searches and it’s “boy baby names” and “what calendar date was January 28 2014”. you’re a writer, and a dedicated one at that, it seems. he likes that. likes the dedication you’re bringing to your craft. few clicks on your profile and he finds out what a bonnie lass you are. so, so bonnie. it’s easy for him to decide that he’s head over heels for you, and with everything he’s got at his disposal, he knows you so well.
but he’s busy. he scribbles your name down with a promise to look more at you later, once he finishes up with the rest of this bullshit job.
it starts to creep into his free time. he’s at the pub with the rest of the 141 looking at your instagram, your emails, your credit card bills, and especially that little remote controlled vibrator app. the one that you and your stupid boyfriend love to use. that little side note isn’t a problem to him, anyways— six years and there still isn’t a ring on your finger.
(not that a ring would have stopped him. in fact, nothing short of a bullet to his head would stop him, and even then he’d probably find some way to haunt you.)
it starts to feel like every selfie you take, every romantic song you listen to, is all just a signal for him. surely you must know that you’re monitored, right? all of your data just a delicious dessert meant for him.
then you make the biggest mistake of your life send him an invitation that he just can’t ignore. for your boyfriends birthday, you record a ten minute long video of you fucking yourself silly with all the toys you have at your disposal, moaning loud and running your hands all over your body. a gift wasted on that ungrateful rat.
he knows how to appreciate it, though— making sure he fucks his fleshlight to the rhythm of your own movements, hands cupping his balls and squeezing when he’s gonna cum too soon, sticking his fingers in his mouth and moaning at the mere thought of the taste of you.
that’s when he knows that this isn’t enough. he needs you, flesh and bone within his grasp.
the boyfriend is hardly an obstacle. soap knows how to make a man disappear. and if a handsome Scot pops up in your life, so what?
cw: noncon body mod, implied rape/noncon, sexual assault/harassment, unhappy reader, dark fic!!
Kidnapper!Soap x reader
Brief Kidnapper!Ghost x reader
desc; after you act out, soap punishes you, not in a way you expect or want
word count; 1890
You were tired of being their prisoner, their toy. You'd lost count on your fingers how many times they'd used your body for their own pleasure, how many days you had been here with them.
Simon was away on assignment leaving you alone with Johnny for the last few days. While Simon gave you space most of the time, unless of course when he wanted to fuck you, Johnny didn't. He always wanted you close by. Always had to be touching you in some way. Usually Simon would tell him off, making him give you space, and you weren't sure whether it was for you or for some other reason—Maybe the same reason that Simon had ordered Johnny not to fuck you while he was gone.
Since Simon wasn't around, there was no one to stop Johnny now from constantly invading your personal space.
Sure, he couldn't fuck you, but now he would constantly pull you onto his lap to grind his boner against your ass and grope your tits. His hand would slip under your shorts and panties and his fingers would stroke your folds and rub your clit in small circles. He was constantly teasing you. When you'd unwillingly get wet from his torment, he'd lick the juices from his fingers while he made you watch. He even made you lay your head down on his lap and he'd occasionally thrust against your face.
The next time he tries to pull you in, you struggle. You pull away and you slap him in the face. Immediately regretting your decision when you see how angry he looks, you cower away from him.
"Fuckin' brat, ah didnae think ye were that stupid." He spits as he grips your hair roughly making you hiss in pain and claw at his arm.
"Let go of me!" You scream.
He tsks, pulling your head up to look at him. His face is inches from yours and you can feel the air he angrily exhales lightly hitting your face. You try to move your head back and he grips your hair harder making you cry out and look at him. His eyes burn with anger at your defiance as he growls out, "That's it. I've had it with your attitude today."
Your eyes widen in fear and your breath hitches, knowing you're about to be punished. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop him. This is what they did when you weren't their perfect little prisoner. Your words, not theirs. They always referred to you as their good girl, unless you pushed them.
Johnny lets go of your hair and grabs your upper arm, gripping hard enough to leave bruises, and pulls you up to your feet. Johnny doesn't say anything or even look at you as he pulls you to the bedroom. He pushes you through the doorway first and you stumble in. He closes the door behind him and the bolt Simon installed slides into place, trapping you in here with Johnny. Theres a keypad for a code to get out. Of course you don't know it. Why would you? You haven't been good enough to earn that yet.
You watch Johnny walk over to the desk and rummage through a drawer for a moment before he's pulling out a black bag. Johnny's mouth twists up into an evil smirk as he looks at you. You swallow, nervously. You didn't want to know what was in that bag but you were about to find out.
"Been wantin' to do this to ye for a while, bonnie. Every time I see those pretty tits of yours," He glances down at your clothed chest and licks his bottom lip. Your arms cross over your chest on instinct and he lets out a dark chuckle. He takes a step toward you and you take a step back. "Ye wanna ken what i'm gonna do to ye?"
You shake your head. You don't want to know because you don't want him to do anything to you at all. His smirk only grows wider at your hesitance. He fishes a hand into the bag and pulls out a little packet and holds it up to show you. You squint, trying to make out the words on the packet. Body Piercing Needles... no, no, no. Terrified, now knowing what he's going to do to you, you step back further until your back hits the wall. He just watches you in amusement, placing the packet back into the bag that most definitely includes the other supplies he's planning to use on you. You wish the wall would swallow you so you didn't have to experience what was about to happen next.
"Where do ye think you're goin'?" He tilts his head like a curious puppy dog but keeps that mischievous look on his face making you shiver. He was more like a wolf than a puppy dog and you were his prey.
"Don't." You whisper, ignoring his question, your bottom lip quivering.
"Don't what?"
"Don't use those on me."
"You didn't say please... I'll tell you what, hen. Apologise for your bad behaviour and... beg me not to use them and I won't."
"I-"
"Ah, ah. Not there," He sits on the bed and points to the floor in front of him. "Right here. On your knees, bonnie."
You really don't want to but since it's your only option you oblige. You hesitantly make your way over in front of him and go down onto your knees. You know exactly how this looks to him.
"Eyes on me." He nudges your leg with his foot and you immediately look up, your mind on what's in that black bag. He's fucking grinning. He leans back on his palms and watches you expectantly, waiting.
It takes you a moment, you have to work up the nerve. You swallow and weakly speak, "I'm sorry."
"That the best ye can do?"
"I'm sorry, Johnny, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I'll be good. I'm sorry," You rush the end, feeling a little frantic. You pause and exhale a breath before continuing while Johnny watches on in amusement. "Please.. Please don't use those.. needles.. on me. I'll be good. I swear."
You don't think you've ever felt more mortified and pathetic. The amusement is gone from Johnny's face as he silently stares at you. You wait for him to say something, anything. After what feels like hours but is definitely only a minute or two, he gently grips your chin and tilts your head up. You maintain eye contact as he leans in closer to you. You think he might kiss you and you resist moving your head away or scrunching your face in disgust, not wanting to make him mad especially after you just begged him. He stops, close enough that the tiniest movement forward would connect your lips to his. Then he gives you a wicked grin.
"Ye gave it a good go." He says and your face falls and your stomach drops.
Before you can protest, Johnny roughly pulls you up and throws you on your back on the bed. He ignores your screams and holds your legs down as you try to kick at him and climbs on top of you, sitting on your hips to hold you still. You try pushing him off, you smack and claw his thighs, you squirm trying to wriggle your way out. He merely laughs at your pathetic attempts and grabs your wrists, holding your hands above your head, before he pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. You don't get the chance to consider when he grabbed those or if he just keeps them on him all the time before he's cuffing your hands tightly together. You let out a noise of discomfort.
"This is gonna be fun." He muses then grabs your shirt and rips it right down the middle, exposing your breasts to him. He licks his lips as he ogles them.
he reaches down and painfully tugs and twists your left nipple in between his fingers until its firm. You move your cuffed hands to hit him again to try to stop him. He sees it coming and grabs your wrists.
"Don't or I'll break them," He squeezes your wrists and you gasp at his threat. He presses your arms back against the bed above your head. "Stay."
You obediently listen and keep your arms still, not wanting him to follow through on his threat, figuring that broken wrists were a worse alternative.
He returns his attention to your nipple and grabs one of the needles out of the packet.
"Pre-sterilised. Well aren't you lucky?" He mocks and you shake your head, silently pleading with him to not do it.
He gets a good grip on you, holding your tit firmly in position.
"Stop. Please, Johnny." You try one last pathetic beg.
He smiles at you before he plunges the needle horizontally through your nipple and you scream out in pain. He looks in awe at the sight of the needle sticking through before he's reaching into the bag and grabbing out one of the silver nipple bars and replacing the needle with it. He squeezes your tit as he lets out a low whistle.
"One down, one to go, Bonnie."
He does the same thing with your other nipple, doubling the pain. Tears run down your face. Johnny licks at your fresh new piercings and you screech, pushing him away, your nipples feeling like they're on fire. He lets you this time and cleans up the tools before putting everything back in the bag and in the desk drawer.
He leaves you there, suffering on the bed, as he unlocks the door and walks off into the lounge room. You cry yourself to sleep.
You wake up a few hours later, nipples aching, hearing Johnny and, a now returned, Simon talking in the other room.
"Got a little surprise for ya, L.T." You know Johnny's talking about you and you wish you could fall back asleep so you didn't have to be consciously present for this.
Johnny walks in first with Simon following behind. Johnny sits on the bed and yanks you up against his side, making your tits look like they're on proud display, and your cuffed hands drop into your lap. Your ripped shirt hangs off your shoulders.
"What d'ya think, Sir?" Johnny grins, squeezing one of your tits and making you grimace. Simon takes in the new modifications and his eyes glaze over, full of animalistic hunger.
"Good fuckin' boy, Mactavish," He addresses Johnny while his eyes stay glued on your nipples. "Baby, your tits were beautiful before but now..." He stalks toward you and cups your tits in his big hands and kneads the flesh. Leaning down, his tongue laps at your freshly pierced nipples a few times before he takes each one in his mouth to suck on, latching on to the metal bars to tug each nipple. You let out a bunch of pained noises as he does, your eyes watering. When he finishes, he looks up at you and grins something sinister, "Now they're fucking perfect."
"Aye, L.T," Johnny cups your clothed pussy with his free hand and chuckles, "Wonder what we should pierce next..."
made a sideblog dedicated entirely to dark fics (they are not well liked on this blog lol.) its @cheriebrat! taking me right back to my early mcu fanfic days. please consider giving it a follow if you'd like to see more dark loki, steve rogers, bucky barnes, simon riley, johnny mactavish + more!!
*GRABS YOU* more ghoap x reader with the pregnancy right now I'm coming to your house on my knees begging praying
"open."
your mouth drops open on instinct, and you whine shyly when there's a resounding "heh heh" that follows. you close your mouth, blinking up at simon, and he hums lowly.
"wot's wrong, swee'eart?" he asks. you jump a little when a big hand cups your lower belly, and you bite your lip when he thumbs at the curve there. "i said open."
your mouth falls open again, slowly this time, and when johnny comes up behind you, you lean back at the tastes of his thick fingers on your tongue.
"she likes when 'er mouth's full," simon mutters, and you suckle on johnny's fingers. you shake your head a little, and simon chuckles. "wot, not wot y'want? y'want somethin' else?"
you nod, pressing your hands against simon's chest, and he nods his head at johnny to let his hand down. when his fingers are out of your mouth, simon leans down, and you dig your nails into his pecs when he licks into your mouth and kisses you hot.
you shiver a little when you feel johnny press up against your back. you feel the cold bite of the air when he hikes up the dress you're wearing, his big hands smoothing over the fabric of your panties. your knees buckle a little when you feel simon's hands just under johnny's--spreading your cheeks apart.
"open up for johnny," simon whispers between kisses, and you arch your back a little, your ass spread just enough for johnny to slip his cock between your thighs and wet it.
"fuck--'m no' gonnae last--" johnny chokes. "she's too pretty."
"and wet, huh, love? y'r soaked," simon murmurs. "don't remember you droolin' so much before."
"got our wee one in there, LT," johnny hisses. the tip of him slips in, simon's hand guiding his cock, and you cry against simon's lips. "makes 'er so much needier...makes 'er so...fuck--gonna come--"
"don't make me punish ya, johnny, yeah?" simon snaps. "tha's no' the rules."
"the rules..." you're so dizzy, surrounded by foggy pleasure, and simon cups the back of your neck so he can glare at johnny behind you.
"she comes first, johnny," simon kisses his teeth. "'s good for the baby."
"the baby--" you mewl, and simon brings your mouth back to his.
"tha's right, love. our baby. remember tha'? did so good for me. now open up, let him in--" simon guides johnny in, fingers smoothing against the place where you're connected, and you cry with relief when simon's fingers slip over your clit in achingly slow circles.
"gonna c-come, LT--"
johnny's never been able to last. you think he came a full thirty seconds after getting inside of you the first time, and he's only ever made it to a minute since. he's so cute--you love when his baby blues get all shiny and big and embarrassed.
"no--simon--let him--" you say against his lips. "please--please, i want it--"
johnny chokes behind you. he squeezes your ass hard, digging his fingers in, and your mouth drops open when you feel him spurt and fill you up. johnny's so messy. he always comes too much, too fast, and you can hear him pant behind you as he tries to catch his breath. you can see him already, red cheeks from shyness, apologetic with those big, pretty eyes.
"'s like ya want another one," simon laughs. "doesn't work like tha'. wish it did, huh? you want another one, love?"
"i-i--"
"olways got t'be full," simon continues. "we should go again."
"mmm--" you giggle, but it turns into a sigh when you feel johnny getting hard again, still inside you, still hissing behind you as he watches you kiss his lieutenant.
