a dark!a/b/o universe where omegas are kept mostly in breeding/selling facilities for alphas.
they don’t even see the light of day — every omega is kept underground.
so how does one get bought, you say?
candles.
goddamn candles.
each facility will get the scent of their omegas to make candles as a ‘selling point’ for each one, in order to keep them as ‘pure’ as possible. the only time these omegas interact with an alpha is when they’ve finally been bought.
a cruel design to send them into heat as soon as they come within the scent field of the alpha who’s just bought them.
so, of course, ghost goes down to these facilities quite frequently to scent the candles, waiting until he finds one that makes his eyes roll back. the workers always know what he’s there for, and point him to the new batches.
new omegas.
it’s been happening for months now, so he was expecting just another trip of subpar scents before going home—
until he smells your scent.
he freezes, reading the description on the candle, before thrusting it into the worker’s hand.
“get ‘em,” he grunts, pawing at his mask that now felt incredibly suffocating and hot on his face and neck.
poor you has no idea what you’re in for.
and yes, simon absolutely lights the candle while he’s pounding into you every which way, both of you deep into your respective ruts/heats🙂↕️
AN: i feel like ghost is one of those alphas who’s so obsessed w you he gets a rash if he’s not in you. send tweet
You knew Simon's work in the abstract, but not the details.
He kept them from you, said it was safer that way.
Tonight though, you catch him just as he arrives home, before he's able to decompress and hide the truth of what 'work' sometimes entails.
Despite the blood and violence, he's still your Simon.
Right?
tw: identity duality (Simon/Ghost), mentions of blood, mentions of violence(off-page, but strongly implied), dark romance, possessive/obsessive behavior, manipulation, power imbalance
wc: 708
Just a lil' oneshot to work on a writing style...let me know if it slaps or flops, because otherwise i'll steer away from this style...yes, i do write happy fics </3 im just a sucker for dark, scary simon/ghost heheh
You stare at the blood on his gloves.
“What did you do?” Your voice trembles; you’ve never seen him like this. You knew Simon’s work in the abstract, the necessary distance he insisted on–best if you knew less, he said, because ignorance was safety. Is this what safe looks like?
You’re frozen in the dark threshold of his bedroom doorway–caught before he could get away with it all.
He tilts his head. “What I always do.” then, softer–so soft it almost doesn’t reach your ears. “If you knew the things I’ve thought about doing to anyone who even looks at you–” he trails off, eyes flicking up to yours, something raw and unguarded slipping through.
“You’d never smile at me again.”
Your throat tightens, but you can’t look away. His voice keeps unraveling, quieter than the lethality in his words. “I’d tear the world apart if it meant keeping you mine.”
He strides towards you until the hallway wall presses against your back, caging you. His gloved thumb drags across your cheek, leaving a faint red line as if branding you with the truth. “You don’t want to know how many I’ve already silenced for less.”
He drops his gaze to his hand, studying the stains on his glove like they’re a confession in themselves. “You think this is bad?” he murmurs. “You should hear the thoughts I have when some bastard makes you laugh. That’s worse than blood.”
When his eyes lift again, they burn through you. “Because at least this washes off.”
A small whimper slips from you. You should duck under his arms, run, do anything but stand here like a trapped rabbit–but your legs don’t move.
“You don’t understand,” He straightens in front of you, peeling one glove off, then the other, each finger slow and deliberate; the red-stained sins drop to the floor between you. “I’ve killed for less than a smile. And you–” his voice cracks on the words, low and rough, “–you hand them out like they’re free.”
A humorless laugh rasps from his chest. His hand presses to your shoulder–neither gentle nor rough. “If you knew the list of names…all the men who thought they had a right to look at you… Christ.” His thumb digs into your skin, an anchor, a warning. “You’d hate me. But I’d do it again. Every time.”
You tilt your head up at him, eyes wide in awe of the man before you, the man you thought you knew.
He leans in, almost towering. “I’ve thought about what it’d be like if you ever left. If you ever tried,” A pause. A whisper, like he’s telling a secret: “There wouldn’t be a corner of the Earth safe for you. Not one.”
His words hang heavy, thick as smoke. You don’t realize you’re trembling until his gaze flicks down sharply, catching the subtle shake of your hands.
His eyes darken at the sight, then come back to meet your own. He tilts his head, as if savoring it.
“Are you afraid of me?”
The question is deliberate; he already knows the answer. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You don’t know what to say, what would be safer to admit.
A low rumble slithers out of him–half scoff, half approval. He lifts his hand and brushes calloused knuckles along your jaw. The touch is careful, almost tender, and everything about it screams possessive.
“You should be,” he murmurs, not as a warning, but as a verdict. Satisfaction edges his tone; whether it’s love or fear that keeps you tethered to him makes no difference.
Either way, you belong to him.
You watch his knuckles flex, and for a moment you see Ghost in full: violence barely leashed, hunger coiled and ready. His breath drags out in a harsh exhale; he pulls back from you. Just an inch or so. Restraint. Enough to remind himself not to break what he wants to keep.
The silence hums between you. His chest rises, a sharp inhale followed by a steadier exhale, as if dragging a storm back inside himself. When his eyes meet yours again, the burn has dimmed–not gone, never gone, but banked, buried deeper within.
Hidden beneath the soft browns of eyes you recognize.
Training sessions.
That was what he always told you happened.
And you always believed him.
So sweet. So trusting. So his.
tw: 18+ mdni, fluff, implied smut/implied sexual content, soft dom(?)Ghost, established relationship, slightly dubcon, dark romance, violence, mentions of blood/injury, implied murder, reader is naive/trusting, toxic behavior, obsessive/posessive Ghost, graphic violence, manipulation by omission
dark-themed fic
wc: 1.2k
The man beneath him gags on blood and dirt, coughing against the heavy, suffocating pressure of Ghost’s boot pinning him to the asphalt of the parking lot.
Ghost looks down at his knuckles. Split open again, red blood smearing into the creases of his fingers. Cold brown eyes flick back to the man, “Fucked up look in your eyes earlier,” Ghost mutters, “Like you thought somethin’ was yours.”
The warm orange glow of a flickering streetlight nearby casts long, distorted shadows. The parking lot is empty, eerily quiet. Not even the evening summer birds chirpings were present—making the whole world feel as if it was holding its breath in wake of the scene playing before it.
The man wheezes, choking slightly on the blood dripping from his nose to his mouth, voice hoarse, a weak sputtering attempt to get his words out. “I-I didn’t even—fuck–I didn’t even touch her, man—”
Ghost tilts his head, slow and deliberate, unsettling.
Like he’s studying a puzzle he already solved hours ago.
Like he’s bored with the answer.
“Tell me—” Ghost’s voice dips low, gravel and steel, “—what was it you liked? Her legs? Her laugh? The way she smiled up at me when I handed her the coffee?” ignoring the previous statement.
He’s heard it all before, the usual cries and pleas for forgiveness, the promises to stay away forever, to never speak of what’s about to happen—all vain attempts for some form of salvation from Ghost’s unhinged insanity.
It was too late though, this man was dead the moment he catcalled you on the street.
His sweet girl.
Ghost’s phone vibrates and he pulls his phone from his pocket, staring down at the screen.
Your name glows back at him.
“miss you :) excited for tonight!! what movie should we watch?♡♡”
You’re so fucking cute.
He stares at your text with something akin to thrill and obsession all twisted into one unbearable thing. Imagines for a split second how he’ll make it up to you for making you miss him.
He texts back.
“On my way.” He slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Time t’wrap it up,” Ghost says, crouching down to look the man in the eyes.
“Please…God…please,” The man rasps, blood and spit mixing against the asphalt, forcing desperate gasps for air. Ghost tilts his head curiously this time, a dark, sadistic laugh escaping from deep in his chest. “Lil’ late for God, ain’t it?”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
He shows up at your apartment forty-five minutes later, hands hastily cleaned but still bruised and raw.
“Simon!” You beam, you don’t even notice at first—just throw your arms around his waist, dragging him into your soft little world with a smile. Your cheek presses to his chest, your body warm and soft against his.
He doesn’t hug you back at first.
Just stands there, looking down at you.
Like he doesn’t deserve this.
Like he can’t believe he gets to have this.
It’s a brief moment of thought though as he wraps his arms around you—tight. You don’t complain though, loving his bear hugs.
Ghost rolls his mask up just to his nose so he can kiss you. He lifts you up from under your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the living room—earning squeals of delight and fake protests as he kisses and nips at your neck.
He gently places you on your back onto the couch, hovering over you and caging you beneath him. “Missed you s’much, pretty girl.” he murmurs in between trailing kisses on your neck.
You laugh breathlessly, cradling his face with your hands, thumbs softly rubbing the sliver of exposed skin on his cheeks—bringing him to look you in the eyes. Those gorgeous, brown eyes you adore so much.
“Missed y’more.” You whisper back, planting a soft kiss to his lips, your eyes soft and bright, moving your hand to gently rub your thumb across his bottom lip as you smile sweetly at him.
He loves it. Your softness, your warmth, the way you look at him like he’s good.
You move your hands from his face, fingers drifting down his arm, tracing his tattoos—you freeze when you catch sight of his hand.
Your smile falters.
“Simon…” you murmur, voice filled with concern and alarm as you take his hand gently in yours. “Your knuckles…” you give him a frown, biting your bottom lip worriedly as you inspect his knuckles further.
He hesitates—just a moment—before the lie slips out smoothly. Like it has all the other times.
“Trainin’ went long today,” he schools his voice into something soft, something he knows calms you, “S’nothin’, love, wasn’t watchin’ myself.”
You nod, fully accepting the lie. “Let me clean them, I don’t want you getting an infection.”
So caring. Always so perfect to him.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
His knuckles are a mess. Bruised and raw, a bit swollen and still mostly red. You hold him so carefully, like you’re afraid you’ll hurt him just by looking too long. He watches you quietly, letting you cradle the damage like it’s something delicate.
Like he’s something that can be mended by a kiss and a bandaid.
“Hold still,” you whisper softly, gently dabbing his knuckles with antiseptic ointment.
“You’re lucky you’ve got me to patch you up.” You tease him, another precious grin gracing your features to him, he leans slightly back onto the couch, taking you in as you tend to him.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Lucky, yeah.”
His voice is low. Loaded.
You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”
“Nothin’, sweetheart. Just thinkin’.”
About how sweet you are.
How stupid the world is for thinking it could touch you.
How no else has the right to make you smile like the way you smile for him.
About how if anyone ever even tries—
“Promise me you’ll be more careful.” Your voice breaks through his thoughts. You have an adorable pout on your lips, your thumbs gently ghosting the edges of his battered knuckles, “Please, Simon?”
Yes. Anything for you.
He watches you—silent, still–as you bring his hand to your lips.
You kiss it.
Once. Twice. Three soft, lingering kisses to each torn-up knuckle, like that could erase the violence they’ve committed.
“Pretty girl…” his voice low, like a dark purr low in his chest, “You can’t go around doin’ that. You’ll ruin me.”
You blink up at him, confused and sweet—doe-eyed, innocent. “Doing what?”
His eyes drop to your lips.
“That,” he says, voice rough, sensual almost. “Kissin’ the parts of me that don’t deserve it.”
You smile again, sweet and full of certainty, and press one final kiss to the inside of his hand before guiding it to your chest, over your heart.
“You deserve all of it.” you whisper, rising from where you were sitting when cleaning up his knuckles.
His eyes track your every move, dark and hazy, heat simmering just beneath the surface. He watches as you straddle his lap–meant to be sweet, comforting…but you’re completely unaware of the way you’re unraveling him.
He doesn’t answer.
Just smiles—slow and lazy—like he knows something you don’t.
One hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers drawing soft, slow circles just above your hip. The other finds your throat—a semi-gentle squeeze—dragging up gently to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.
Then he leans in, lips grazing your throat. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough with desire, “You’ve got no idea.”
He tugs your hair just enough to make you gasp, arching your back—then swallows the sound with his mouth on yours, fierce and hungry, like he’s starving for something only you can give.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
a/n: bby's first time also writing a dark fic so if im missing a tag, tw, or something just send me ask/message...!
summary: Ghost is toxic and the only person who is affected is his partner, your sibling, so what will you do, (y/n)?
Don't read it if it will trigger you!
Warnings: Dark and toxic Ghost, gn! reader. Mention of mental abuse, toxic relationship, (y/n) is mad. Military reader. The reader had gn!sibling. Everything is pure imagination, and I never served in the military so I really don't know how it works.
I don't own Call of duty's characters or the Gif bellow!
Should I make a part 2????
Dark! Ghost x gn!reader
A few months, before the call of duty modern warfare 2 begun, which you be soon called to help in.
You were sitting waiting for your sibling, in the cafeteria of the base. Your sibling was dating none other than Ghost, Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley himself.
The man was toxic . A walking red flag, that just don't seem to get the meaning of cherishing your partner, he was worse than a yandere. You didn't blame him at first, you knew his story or half of it, you sister do to, maybe that's why she let him do whatever he wanted.
You knew he had trauma because of his heartless father and adding to the mission where he was almost brain washed, you could understand where he was comming from. The man was left with severe trauma, so you never took any of his heartless action toward you to heart, you always tried to get along with him for your sibling's sake.
Now you can't find any excuses to his actions, this man needed therapy as soon as possible.
It was pretty much over two years since the both start dating, you were jealous of you sibling for pulling the man , you a crush on, since your eyes landed on him, but after sometime you got over it. You will never choose a silly little crush over your family.
They deserve to be happy, after all the shit you two had been throught in real life.
Truth , you (your sibling and you ) weren't fictional characters, you both were suck in the game, while you were playing three years ago. You did find a way to go back later on, yet you never use it.
It was a lot to take in, been in a new world where you can die at any moment given, but with your sibling by your side it was easier and more bearable.
Going back to your sibling, you remarked a few thing after five month of them dating. The first one been , how tired they had become, mentally and physicly, always sleeping when she spend some of the weekend with you at your house. It was starting to affect her missions, her Captain who happened to be Price, was obligated to send her away few times.
You knew he remarked the changes but never adressed it, he had a soft spot for Ghost, making him turn a blind eyes at whatever this man do.
The second thing you remarked was the fact that they always put his need above their own, it was starting to get a troll on them.
Sometimes you can see them flich when he touch them, the fear in their eyes was unmistakable, you wanted to confront him but you were weak at that time, and you didn't have a position yet. You were a newbie, and the man could crash you with just his bare hand, so just like Captain Price you turn a blind eye, just this time. Which build a guilt that start eating you from the inside.
One night, as you were about to go on a mission with 141 team for the first time, you had catch Ghost criticizing them, with harsh words. You almost punshed him, but instead you recorded him, which you discovered to be a great idea in the future.
You wanted to push him away from them, and for that you will need evidence, Ghost was a respected man, but you were a powerful person now. You had the system by your side, meaning nothing could stand in your way, not even General Shepherd.
_Hey.
You turn to see your sibling, and you eyes almost popped out of your skull.
They looked too thin to be healthy, the color was drained off their face, as if a vampire just came and suck the blood out of their body. There was dark circles all around their eyes, and you could only guess that it was the result of sleep, or the lack of it in this case.
Her head was held down, an action out of their character. This wasn't you dear baby that used to held their head high no matter how hard the situation was.
They were almost unrecognizable.
What have you done? You found yourself thinking.
You could feel your blood boil, and without a second guess you took your phone called Laswell and asked for three month rest. For you and your sibling , and she given you, without asking why, but you felt as if she already knew.
Your sibling watched you with eyes widen in fear, they tried to talk to you out of it, as they start shacking like a leaf, but you had made you mind.
Caring them, bridal style, which wasn't hard, since they were as light as a feather, making you frown.
when was the last time she ate? You thought, walking to their room, that they practically shared with Ghost.
You helped them pack their clothes, actually... It was more, you throwing the clothes in the bag, as they tried to stop but the poor was too weak to even lift the cup on their own.
Throwing them over your shoulder, you took their bags and walked to the car before leaving for the next three months, and no one dared to ask, you were looking too much scary.
You knew you can't go to your old house, and it would be the first place Ghost will go chack after comming back from the mission andd fiding out you took his darling. So a hotel will be good until you find another house away from all of them. It would have enough sucurity to stop an army, and you were ready to pay the price, no matter how expensive, it would be, which wouldn't be hard, seeing as you had become rich, after your threatned the system about you telling the whole Call of duty's npc about how they were fake.
You money will never run out, as long as the system was here, you ruled the place.
Glacing at you sister in the back, you eyes soften as you saw her fast a sleep, but soon your jaw clenched, your hand gripped hard around the wheel almost breaking it, and your eyes had turn red from rage, after you remarke the purple bruises on her hand, . You almost run into a deer, as your fought your mind to not turn and hit the shit of that man.
Ghost would pay for this and you will make sure of it,you didn't care if he was a programmed npc, this was like a real world, you can called a parallel universe ,meaning everything that was happening was kind of real. So no more excuses, the man either be punished properly or died.
