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tacticaldiary · 2 years ago

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A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

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vaspider · 1 year ago

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If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

#my peasant roots let me show you them #homemaking #queer homemaking #food #food cw #affiliate links #i may make a few pennies from these links #and use them to buy books

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quilly72 · 1 month ago

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"April to lab 3... April to lab 3 for a systems check." The pa blurted out into her office. April rolled her eyes as she grabbed her clipboard and started meandering through the halls. Her heels clacking against the hard cold floors. Her footsteps echoing as she passed the labs. As she peered In through the windows checking on the various projects her company was working on.

Lab 1 was busy burning one of their plants that had been exposed to plant fertilizer. grapes the size of a fist popping and exploding as they outgrew their environment. The vines crept out into the hallways as the team tried to contain its growth to one room.

Lab 2 was much less destructive. Their love potion seemed to be working wonders as two of her co-workers were currently sprawled against the floor. Hungarily tearing their clothing off. She smirked as she called it into the radio that lab 2 had had a chemical leak... Again.

Finally she pulled up to lab 3. Punching in the code as she readjusted her button up. She priced open the door as she slinked into abrupt chaos. Technicians and scientists running to and thro. In the center of the room a sparking growth ray haphazardly swinging in a circle. A tech furiously typing into the computer as the machine started to shirt to life. A bright bean forming at the tip of the nozzle "it's gonna fire FIND COVER." April shoved the tech down as she tried to take control of the situation. Clearing the error codes as she punched in the manual override.

The growth ray swung around and violently spasmed as the room started to shake. A large hum filling the room deafening any sound. Stephen the senior tech screamed at her but she heard none of it as she punched in the final commands. She turned to look at the machine as her eyes opened up wide. Too late. She realized as a bright green beam shot out at hef. She barely had time to think before it splashed into her. She gasped and shrieked as it shoved her to the floor. Her skin glowed and throbbed as she felt the heat course through her. Her body hit the wall behind her with a smack as she thudded to the floor. The machine powering down as everyone gathered around April.

Meanwhile in a haze April was cautiously trying to stand back up. Not having fully realized what had happened. She opened her eyes as everyone surrounded her. "What.. happened." Before any could respond April felt her body shudder and rapidly heat up.

April snapped back as she felt her body get hot with wave after wave of energy. In tandem her body responded by growing larger with each rush of heat. The first to respond was her chest which made its entrance as it billowed forward. Her blouse stood no chance as her measly cups expanded into a letter April didn't even know was possible for her frame. Her buttons snap off in quick succession. Her bra lifted off of her as her boobs bulged over and under the fabric. The straps loosened and dug into her shoulders before they snapped off entirely. April quickly raised her hands to cover as she sat up. April tried to turn as a couple scientists caught an eyeful. "Stop looking you perverts".

She felt herself cool down as April raised herself up. She peered down into her cleavage as she slinked her blouse off. Her shirt no longer capable of covering her. She stood awkwardly as she saw a couple people bust out measuring tapes and cameras. "For research purposes" she muttered as she let them approach.

She stared coldly as they wrapped around her. Noting measurements and radiation levels. she felt her skin grow warmer but she attributed it to nerves. Everything seemed normal except of course her new bust size. Meanwhile April felt a nagging pressure inside of her. She tried holding it back but it seemed to grow and grow and "FUCK"

April screamed as her skin glowed and expanded. Her body filled the room as she doubled her height. Her butt ruptured her skirt in half as her leggings and shoes exploded off of her. Her panties popped off into a technician as he fell to the floor. Aprili raced to cover herself with a hand now at 10 ft tall but felt the feeling grow again. "I'm not stopping" she screamed before she doubled again.

Her head smashed into the roof as she recoiled off of it. Groaning and yelping In pain as her head met the 20 ft ceiling. A tech slammed the panic button as the sirens and red lights flooded the room. April turned to and thro as she tried to figure out how to leave. The techs rushed out the emergency exit as she felt her body pressurize.

"wait don't leave me somebody..." She doubled again. She tried to brace for impact but her head easily smashed the floor as she raced in. Her cleavage similarly busting the floor open as it punched through. Her head hit the second ceiling as she peered over her cleavage to the screaming attendants in lab 8 who were currently watching a woman fill half the room. Her waist at eye level.

"HELP MEEE" she screamed before she filled the entire room. Her body smashed them as she doubled again. Her feet below her filled the entire room as she bursted through the facilities roof. Her waist stuck in the framework as she tried to get away from the carnage and panic she was causing. Her body pressurized and glowed again. "nooooo"

She grimaced before filling out again. Over a hundred feet tall. Her head rushed with vertigo as her cleavage dragged her down. The survivors watch as a hundred foot...AAAAHHHHH...THREE hundred foot April crushed the lab in one fall. What they weren't expecting was her to suddenly swell closer. April raised to her hands and knees as she spurted again. Her feet dug into the soil as they raced across the road and hills each one falling to either side of the surviving scientists as her butt encroached in front of them. Her boobs dragged into the building as her head raced forward a couple hundred feet. Before anyone could react it was too late. A butt the size of a col de sac crushed the group in seconds. She spurted again and again her body filling the country side as April gave up. Groaning and crying as her body finally sizzled out after filling half the state.

#giantess growth #gtsgrowth #giantess

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bunnyreaper · 1 year ago

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the price we pay

kinktober 10 - fuck machine

dom!ghost x sub!reader x sub!soap

(18+/mdni, fuck machine, cuckolding vibes, bondage, degradation, negotiated kink, anal)

Belonging to Simon Riley brought with it a litany of mysteries, both large and small—it's a privilege and a burden you and Johnny both willingly signed up for.

Simon was always the first (and often only) one to know things in your relationships—plans, observations, feelings, they'd all sit inside his head for weeks or months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out. Over time, you've learned to spot the signs of a brewing plan or ruminating thought. This one you picked up on fairly quickly, having made a game of it with Simon.

Simon sits across from you, lonely on the loveseat as you lounge on the couch, lost in his phone with a focused squint. It's nothing unusual, the two of you spending time together peacefully coexisting in silence—but you sense something amiss.

"You're planning something." You whisper, eyes glued to him as he taps at something on his screen.

He pauses, gaze connecting with yours as he stares you down, resolute with a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah, and?"

"How long now?" You ask.

"3 weeks."

"I'm getting faster, Simon!" You punch the air in victory, kicking and flailing your legs in a delighted little dance that makes your lover smile. "Okay, continue, I won't ask any more questions." You giggle as you bite your lip and turn your attention back to the TV, willing yourself to not think about the surprise.

So you weren't caught completely unaware when one day an oversized, nondescript box was delivered to the door. Johnny's away on an assignment without you both, meaning whatever it is could only belong to Simon, and likely part of whatever he's been working on over the past several weeks.

Johnny went away aware something was coming, but not knowing what—because unlike Johnny, Simon could keep a secret from his lovers. You've been resorting to unfair tactics with Simon, waiting until he's in his blissed-out, post fuck state to probe him gently.

You lay draped across Simon, both of you completely bare as you cuddle up—his hot cum still oozing out of you.

Now's your chance, you think. Simon's always more relaxed post-sex, and you're not going to ask too much.

Threading your fingers up to his hair, you stroke his scalp and smile as his eyes slip shut. "Is it a gift?"

"I suppose." He whispers, eyes cracking open as he eyes you wearily, you can see the cogs turning as he debates giving you an inch, and worrying you'll take a mile.

You study him intently, wondering if you can chance another. "For me?"

"For all of us." He reaches to your chin, tilting it as he leans in for a breath-stealing kiss that silences any further inquiries. "Now that's enough."

You nod, beyond satisfied as you snuggle back into Simon's chest and try to temper your excitement.

The package arriving perfectly in time for the day Johnny gets home from his mission is very suspicious.

You'd both spent the afternoon cuddling Johnny on the couch before Simon disappeared upstairs with his box and ordered you both to stay out of the bedroom until he allowed you in. Johnny had probed you for what you knew, as he tried to come up with ideas for what it could be.

"Mebbes it's a puppy, I'd like tha'" Johnny comments idly as he plays with your hair, stroking through it as he snuggles up behind you.

You giggle, but shake your head, not convinced by that theory. "I'd hope he wouldn't keep a puppy in the box for that long, plus surely it would've made a noise by now."

"Hmm." Johnny hums. "King size weighted blanket?"

Simon's eyes had lit up when you had mentioned it in the past. "Ooh, one we can all snuggle under." You wriggle back into Johnny, imagining the comfort of being cuddled up with your boys and blessed with the extra weight. Then again, you didn't really need a weighted blanket when you had them.

You hear Simon's footsteps as he starts to come back downstairs, and you turn over to shush Johnny with a kiss. "Quiet, don't get us in trouble."

"Aye, lass."

After an afternoon of soft closeness and conversation, the three of you would usually take this time to head to the bedroom and fuck the missing parties' brain's out, to catch them up on everything they've missed—but the atmosphere is so different, knowing whatever Simon has been planning is just waiting for you upstairs.

When Simon nods in the direction of the stairs, you both obediently rush to your feet, heading upstairs as he leads the way.

"Johnny, be a good boy and go take a shower for me." Simon's voice is a stern command as he reaches the landing and stops Johnny from entering the bedroom. "I'll come and get you when I need you, yeah?"

"Yes, sir." Johnny nods, his eyes widening as they connect with yours.

Separating the two of you isn't a good sign for what's to come, and your stomach flips with fear as you're led into the bedroom wordlessly.

"Simon?" You ask, voice hesitant he starts to grab some of the items he's prepared. The whispered name doesn't get a response, so you try again. "...Sir?"

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with that expression, the one that tells you his slipping into his dom mindset—head whirring with his plans, with considerations for all of your safety and welcome, and with anticipation for what's to come. "On the bed, now. Clothes off."

You freeze for a moment, swallowing thickly before you rush to throw up every garment you're wearing—they're hastily discarded on the floor, only to be collected and folded when Simon hits you with a stern look.

Once you're bare, you lay on the bed, uncertain of what's to come and yet trusting in the other man completely.

Simon repositions you as he wants you, turning you over on your stomach before pulling up your ass into the air.

The large object at the foot of the bed covered by the sheet hasn't escaped your attention. "What's that?"

Simon follows your gaze, to the covered mound. Silently, he pulls away the covering to reveal the contraption underneath.

A fucking machine.

"Wow, fuck. What are you planning?" You gasp, already squirming in anticipation.

Simon steals your focus, turning your head back into the bed. "You'll see."

His hands run over your naked behind, trailing down your legs before he gets to work gently attaching a spreader bar to your ankles—preparing you to be able to take the dildo attached to the machine. When he's done securing your ankles, he gets to work on securing your wrists together so you're truly helpless.

You squirm as you feel the lube drip onto your exposed holes, his finger working the slick into your pucker and preparing you. Your head spins, as you begin to anticipate the machine fucking your ass, until you feel the cold metal of a plug and Simon's hand holding your rear. He works slowly, opening you up on a finger or two until he can get the plug inside. With that done, he leans over, close to your head.

"Love you." He mumbles as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Safeword?"

"Red." You confirm, relishing in the feeling of being so safe with your boyfriend and dominant. "Love you too, Si."

"Good girl."

He gives you a once-over, checking everything is in place, before he moves away. Next, he gets to work on moving the machine, you can just see in your peripheral as you crane your neck that he's moving things around—and then you feel the tip poke at your entrance, positioned so carefully so as to not truly enter you.

"Fuck." You shiver with anticipation, trying to wiggle back onto it only to be met with strong hands stilling your hips.

You're already so needy, you're barely able to think of how the evening might unfold or what this will all lead to. Right now, you just want relief. "Are you gonna turn it on?"

"Not yet."

You crane your neck to watch as Simon leaves the room, leaving you exposed and anticipating.

The conversation between him and Johnny in the bathroom is muffled, barely audible over the blood pumping in your ears.

When they make it to the room, Johnny is being led by Simon, due to the silk wrapped around his eyes. Simon lays him face down on the bed next to you, pulling off his towel and leaving him exposed alongside you. Johnny's already rock hard in anticipation, his cock rubbing against the mattress.

"Why's he blindfolded?" You ask, brain trying to piece together what is happening, what Simon has in store.

Upon hearing your voice, Johnny's hand twitches, wanting to reach out to touch you but knowing instinctively he isn't allowed. Were it not for the blindfold, the two of you would at least be able to share meaningful looks.

"For the surprise." Simon mumbles, as he starts to gather lengths of rope to tie Johnny up with—by the looks of it, your boyfriend was going to be bound head to toe beside you.

"Oh, so I shouldn't ruin it?" You giggle, teasing Simon with the fact you could disobey and give the game away before he's ready.

Your words are met with a scoff, and you watch Simon scowl as he pauses. "Not unless you want to trade places with him."

As Simon gets to work tying Johnny's arms and legs, you realise very quickly that the last thing you want is to trade places with Johnny—at least you're seemingly in more of a position to get pleasure tonight, whereas it seems Johnny might get denied. You also realise that when the blindfold comes off, Johnny's going to be fucking furious.

"Am getting tied up, ooh." Johnny coos, his tone playful as his lips curl into a smirk.

You watch, fascinated, as Simon works deftly, securing the black rope over every inch of Johnny's gorgeous body.

"If it helps, Johnny, I'm a little restrained too��ow!" You don't get to finish your sentence, as Simon cuts you off with a sharp spank.

"What did I say?" He growls, attention turning to you for a moment to fix you with a steely glare.

You pout, but bite your tongue from giving any further hints—you know what's good for you, after all. "Sorry, I won't give anything away, sir. Promise." Hopefully, the groveling will keep you in Simon's good books.

"Yeah, could still be anything." Johnny comments, conspiring with you to keep you out of trouble—bless him. You had a feeling the two of you won't be so allied in a few minutes.

It becomes clearer to you with each second that this setup is one of Simon's games to play you against one another, and tonight you're the lucky one, rather than the punished. Of course, it's all only temporary, and in the spirit of everyone's enjoyment—outside of the bedroom, you all try your hardest to never create imbalances between you.

"Jokes on us, he's gonna tie us both up and leave us in here, so he can get some peace, Johnny." You joke, trying to keep the mood fairly light.

"'m getting close to it." Simon is back to grumbling, as he finishes up his binds on Johnny's limbs. "Safeword?"

"Red." Johnny confirms, his expression turning more serious.

Simon presses a kiss to his forehead before he gets to work on undoing the blindfold."Love you."

"Love you—" Johnny's words are cut off as his eyes flicker open, and he takes a second to crane his neck around to take in the scene beside him. "—bastard."

"Don't like what you see, Johnny?" Simon chuckles, low and full of mischief, as he walks toward the bottom of the bed, standing near the machine that is so close to working its way inside you.

"Fuck you." Johnny snarls, his eyes looking angered and desperate as he meets your gaze. He is, as you expected, furious.

And you hate that his reaction makes you leak—he wants you so bad, and he's being denied, completely at Simon's mercy.

You want to get fucked so bad, whether it's by Johnny or the machine or Simon, you don't care. But tonight, you know the only thing getting stuffed in your cunt is the dildo on the fuck machine. "Please, sir, please turn it on." The words rush out of your mouth before you can stop them, need coursing through your body.

There's a low growl from both men before Simon speaks first. "Tell Johnny how much you want it." His words are accompanied by him adjusting the dildo at your entrance, getting ready to grant your wish.

Johnny's eyes soften when you look to him, but the fury within is still evident. You hope he sees the softness in your eyes too, hope he can see how helpless you are right now under Simon's spell that is making you complicit.

"Johnny, want it so bad... fuck." You wiggle once more, trying to get any kind of relief. Johnny grits his teeth through the next part. "Tell him to turn it on for me, please."

Another growl from Johnny as he thrashes against the mattress, unable to really do anything at all. "These fucking ropes, as soon as I get—"

His sentence is interrupted by your moan, loud and uninhibited as the dildo breaches you, working itself in at a tortuously slow rhythm.

Simon is messing with the controls in your peripheral. "How's that?"

"Slow." You whine, desperate for more already. The machine picks up its pace, fucking into you more steadily as it strokes against your insides. "T-thank you."

Simon makes his way back to the side of the bed, standing behind Johnny as he taunts the man with his touch, stroking his face delicately as if to subdue and tame a wild animal.

"Is it better than him?" Simon asks, leaning into your field of vision.

You look up at him, mind hazy and unsure what response he wants. Does he want you to humiliate Johnny for him? Is he going to make you say you prefer the machine just to exert his power and control?

Simon senses your hesitation, your need for guidance in this moment, and his hand comes to stroke your face, much like he is already doing with Johnny. "Just looking for the truth, pet."

Your eyes flicker back to Johnny's, noticing the way they shine with something other than anger—fear and humiliation, as he waits for your response. Poor, sweet Johnny, already being broken down into submission by Simon.

"... No." You whisper truthfully, gaze fixed on Johnny, so you can catch his relief.

Simon tuts, walking back to the controls to turn them up as if to try and change your mind. "Shame."

The machine's pace increases, ramming the dildo into your cunt faster and faster and forcing the moans out from your pretty little mouth.

Johnny turns ferocious once again. "Yer not seriously gonna leave me here while a machine fucks ma girl instead of me?!" He pleads, desperate and mad and so confused, and yet still working his hips into the mattress for relief.

"Your girl?" Simon snarls, returning to tug at the roots of Johnny's hair until his head is floating off the bed.

Johnny swallows, winces at the sensation, and attempts to correct himself. "Our girl."

Simon throws his head down with little regard, as if he's disgusted to even have touched your other boyfriend.

"My girl." His voice is all growl, threatening and territorial as he crawls onto the bed, ignoring Johnny and his need in favour of yours. "Here's how this is gonna go, Johnny. You're gonna be a good boy and stay there."

You hear the cap of the lube open, and slick sounds as Simon lubes up his cock—both you and Johnny are breathless in anticipation.

Simon's fingers then work the plug out of you, and you know exactly what is coming next. You're about to get double penetrated, while Johnny lays there and watches, powerless to stop it. He's wanted both men to take you at once for so long, only to be denied.

Now it was going to happen without him.

You feel Simon nudge his cock at your pucker, spreading around the lube there and chuckling at Johnny's livid reaction.

"You're gonna stay there, and me this machine are gonna fuck her better than you ever could."

#simon ghost riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #ghoap x reader #call of duty x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #kinktober #soap x ghost x reader

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tojisun · 2 months ago

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when the desire is mutual but one of them thinks their version is corrupt while the other one just wants, so primal you can almost see it drip from their maw— anyway this is just another dbf!john price thoughts because it’s been hitting around my head like it’s trapped in a pinball machine

like. the drama when nothing is ever done about that desire. how it stews and builds, and john doesn’t remember how it was without that throbbing in his core and you don’t remember how it was without the cataclysmic yearning that’s built up in the back of your throat, so thick it makes your words feel sticky. and he tells himself, “just for a while,” once you sit beside him, so close that you might as well be on his lap; and you’re so warm and soft, while something like muted almond milk and cedar wood hits his nose and john—

john can’t breathe. he can’t think, left with his fingers twitching, his heart lodged in his throat. he can’t concentrate, so focused on the way you are, all beautiful and teasing and bewitching.

your hand curls around his arm, holding, perched as you wait for him to finally do something but john remembers—

john remembers.

“excuse me,” he murmurs, carefully dislodging himself from your hold and walking away. he tells himself that he should not turn back to see how you must look, that he should not check on you because that’s just one more mistake in his growing list, but john is weak. he caves. and the devastation in your face might as well have punched him in the gut.

#exploding in my head #cw age gap #suns #john price x reader #john price

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bugboi01 · 3 months ago

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Uwah, your batfam family omega imagine was such a pleasure to read! I was wondering, what would happen if reader attempted to defy them, or tried to escape? What type of punishments would be held? Thank you for feeding us crumbs! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Thank you! Have another drabble as a treat :)

You knew you were fucked as soon as you threw that punch. Your fist collided uselessly against Bruce's strong chest, weeks of being confined dwindled your strength down to nothing. You couldn't help it. You just wanted to see your family and friends again. In a fit of rage you had lashed out, and now it was time to pay the price.

"Oh, love," Bruce murmured, gripping your wrist tightly. His eyes were cold, devoid of the usual warmth and adoration he has when looking at you. You almost wish you could go back. "That wasn't very nice."

He picked you up with ease, not listening to your protests as he carried you past your bedroom and into one you had never seen before. The one room that was always locked and you were forbidden to go in.

"P-please!" You screamed fearfully, feeling your heart rate spike. Your pleas fell on deaf ears. "I'll be good! I swear I'll be good!"

"Hush now, love," Bruce murmured, ignoring your cries. He opened the door and carried you in, making sure to lock it behind him. Inside was a desolate room with plain green walls and two hooks in the ceiling meant for shibari ropes. You didn't get much of a chance to look before you were being strapped to a table with your legs spread. The metal was cold against your back. You winced as Bruce tore open your pants and placed a blindfold and gag on you. You heard a machine being turned on before something large and distinctly silicone began thrusting into your unwilling hole.

Your cries of pain were muffled by the gag. You were left there for hours, fucked by a dildo on various speeds until your brain is mush. Maybe next time you won't disobey.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batfam x reader #omegaverse

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quillcraftconquer · 3 months ago

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Simon, who never wanted a dog. He didn't mind dogs, always stopping to give them a quick pat on the side, and he didn't mind his friends' dogs coercing him to toss a ball for a couple of hours. He just never envisioned himself owning a dog. He spent too much time away from home, and god forbid if anything happened to him, who would even take his dog?

Still, despite all of his unanswered questions, when he met the tan, leggy stray on a mission that followed him around like he already owned it, he couldn't help but feed it scraps from his dinner, let it sit too close, talk to it whenever everyone else went to bed.

It wasn't a cute dog. Its body was nicked with tiny scars from its time spent on the streets, and Simon was well aware of the bugs running through its scruffy fur. Its legs were far too tall for its body, accompanied by a small, pointed head with ears too big that stood up when something caught its eye, or drooped comically low when he was relaxed.

Price complained relentlessly about the “damn dog” that followed Simon to every dinner, whining and scratching at the door when they went to bed, always under their feet while he was trying to walk around the base. It wasn’t until he walked into the showers, making eye contact with Simon and Gaz knelt on the floor, the damn dog enjoying the last remnants of hot water and the empty box of flea medicine tilted against the wall that he knew it was a losing battle, the dog was going to stick around.

Simon, who didn't want a dog, but spent more money than he had on anything else to bring it home, buy it a nice bed, and a thick leather collar.

It wasn’t until he stood in the vet's office, watching you run the metal tag through the engraving machine with his information on it that he realized the dog was his. Simon told himself he came here because you were nice to his dog, not commenting on his unique looks or bad behaviors, and how your eyes didn't linger on the dog's scars (or his, foregoing the masks when he did stop in.)

You, of course, didn't mind Simon’s gruff exterior, the way he mumbled ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your questions, but talked extensively when it came to his dog.You laughed at the way Simon’s nose crinkled when you discussed neutering, or different training methods. You said nothing when Simon would always answer “Not my dog, just a stray.”, but always paid for the best food, treats, and care, almost as if he was convincing himself the dog wasnt going to stick around (because what did in Simon’s life?)

You especially didn't mind when Simon brought up boarding, stating he had to leave for a few weeks. You jumped at the chance, determined to show him that his dog could learn just a few house manners. You let him drop the dog off at your home, gave him access to the cameras, let him survey the yard.

And if you had known, you wouldn't have minded the late nights Simon was halfway across the world, laying on some shitty bed with security cameras pulled up, watching the dog- his dog- take its signature 3 circles before plopping down on the outdoor couch next to you.

It was for the dog, he told himself. It definitely didn't have to do with the too tight, too short christmas pajamas you wore in, yes, June, (he had to check the calendar, feeling like he had somehow missed 6 months of the year.) It didn't have to do with the way your fingers lazily dragged over the dog's fur, or the way you pinched the bridge of your nose when the dog tore up another cushion Simon would replace.

Simon’s thumb punched the side of the phone, the screen darkening as he laid it against his chest, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was just about the dog.

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ponyosmom35 · 3 months ago

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ghost

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: simon goes after reader

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the sound of heavy boots echoing against the concrete floor. The team had already split into two groups: Price and Simon at the front, their weapons at the ready, and Gaz and Soap taking the rear entrance. Every step felt like it could be their last. The dim lighting barely illuminated their surroundings, but they knew their objective.

Get her out. Alive.

Simon's heart pounded in his chest as he and Price moved forward through the narrow corridors. Every shadow, every movement, set his nerves on edge. He was close now—so close. He could feel it. She was in here, somewhere, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from finding her.

Price, who had been his mentor and leader for years, was silently moving beside him, eyes scanning the area. They were a well-oiled machine, a team that trusted each other implicitly. But Simon couldn't help the pit of dread that had settled in his stomach. If anything happened to her...

They turned the corner and came face-to-face with their first group of enemies. Without hesitation, they opened fire, their shots precise and deadly. The men didn't even have time to react before they were dropped, bodies hitting the floor with sickening thuds.

Price signaled to Simon, and they moved forward, clearing the room in swift, ruthless movements. Simon's focus was razor-sharp as he scanned for more threats, his mind on one thing only: her.

Meanwhile, Gaz and Soap were at the back, clearing the hallway of enemies with brutal efficiency. Soap's massive form was a blur of force as he stormed through the rear entrance, taking out men one after the other. His size and strength were unmatched, each punch landing like a freight train. Gaz, moving with more calculated precision, was quick to cover his teammate, dropping anyone who dared to challenge them.

The team moved through the warehouse, fighting their way through ten armed men in total. There was no mercy. No hesitation. They all knew what was at stake.

And then, Simon heard her. The unmistakable sound of a woman's scream, echoing through the warehouse, sending a jolt of panic through his chest. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the source, his weapon gripped tightly in his hand. He turned the corner and there she was.

She was slumped against the wall, blood dripping from her body, her hands bound behind her. Her face was bruised and battered, but her eyes—despite the fear and pain—were still defiant.

The sight of her like this made something inside Simon snap. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the man in front of her—the one who had been torturing her. The man was laughing, a twisted grin on his face, but Simon wasn't listening anymore. All he saw was red. He rushed forward, his vision narrowing, and before the man had time to react, Simon had him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The sound of his skull cracking against the concrete echoed through the room, but Simon didn't stop. He punched him again and again, brutal and unrelenting, until the man's body went limp.

It wasn't enough. Simon wasn't done. He picked the man up again, slamming his head against the ground in a final, violent motion. The man's face was unrecognizable, blood pooling around his head. Simon's hands were covered in it, his knuckles raw and bloodied. He stood over him, chest heaving, rage consuming him.

Price grabbed Simon by the shoulder and pulled him back, snapping him out of his frenzy. "Ghost, you need to focus." Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in it. "We don't have time for this. She needs you."

Simon stood there for a moment, his breathing ragged, eyes locked on the man he had just killed. The weight of the violence was sinking in, but she was alive. She was still here, and she needed him.

With one last, shaky breath, Simon turned and rushed to her side, kneeling beside her. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. She was alive. Simon's hands shook as he gently cradled her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. His fingers moved to her neck, pressing lightly, feeling the faint beat of her pulse. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin, a silent promise to never let anything happen to her again.

"baby, I've got you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He could feel the heat of the blood on his hands, the reality of her injuries setting in, but he wasn't about to lose her—not again.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her carefully, her limp body heavy in his arms. Every step felt like an eternity, but he finally got her to the truck. The door slammed shut behind him, and he gently placed her on the seat, leaning over her to apply pressure to her deep stomach wound. He wasn't sure if he was applying enough force, but he had to. She couldn't lose any more blood.

The others piled into the vehicle, the urgency of their mission clear in their movements, but Simon's focus never wavered. He ripped off his mask, his face a picture of exhaustion, panic, and guilt. His hands were trembling as he continued to hold her, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

His fingers brushed her face, wiping away the blood from her cheek, and then he held her close, cradling her in his arms as he desperately tried to keep her alive. His breath hitched as he felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

The team moved quickly, discussing their next steps, but all Simon could hear was the sound of her shallow breathing, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Every minute felt like an eternity.

As they drove toward the safehouse, Simon's thoughts were consumed with her—wondering how long it would take for her to wake up, if she would even survive this, and whether he had failed her. But he couldn't afford to think about that now. There was no room for doubt. He had to stay strong for her.

Finally, when they arrived, Simon was still cradling her body in his arms, refusing to let anyone take her from him. Price helped Simon carefully lay her down on the table inside the safehouse. They worked quickly, patching up her wounds, but Simon never left her side.

When they finished, he wrapped her up in gauze, careful not to expose her injuries to the others. His eyes were constantly on her, monitoring her breathing, watching for any sign that she was slipping away.

Hours passed. Simon remained by her side, not once letting go of her hand. She was alive. She was still alive.

Eventually, he walked downstairs to meet the others, but even then, his mind was still on her. He didn't want to talk about Makarov. He didn't want to think about their next mission. All he could think about was her—and how he was going to keep her safe, no matter the cost.

Price met him at the door, his expression serious. "You ready to move, Simon?"

Simon's gaze hardened as he looked back toward the room where she rested. "I'm ready," he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. "But I'm not leaving her again. Not until this is over."

And with that, they began to strategize their next move, knowing that they would have to take down Makarov once and for all to ensure her safety.

But for Simon, the fight was just beginning.

#mw2 ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish

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ghouljams · 7 days ago

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Ghoul, I finished your cyberpunk AU, and I can't stop thinking about what happens to Soap after he gets shot in the head. What if 141 refuses to let him go, unlike in canon, but this time they take it a step further—pooling their resources to rebuild him? Given their elite status, I imagine they all have some kind of neural implant (except for Ghost since hes an android) that doesn’t log mission data but also acts as a digital backup of themselves. If that's the case, Soap wouldn’t be salvageable—he could be brought back, piece by piece, memory by memory.

Soap's a demolitions man, if there's a bomb that's where he's meant to be, but when Makarov grabs Price it's not wires and circuit boards that Soap goes for. Fitting that the last thing he sees is red, his mam always told him his temper would get him in trouble someday.

When he wakes up everything is white.

Hospital white.

He groans and reaches to touch the throbbing pain point on his skull. Ghost's hand stops him, familiarly cold and uncomfortably almost-human.

"They got ya sittin' by bedsides now?" He asks, his mouth sticky and dry.

"Military sprung for the nanny package last update." Ghost tells him flatly.

"That's funny," Soap smacks his lips, closing his eyes against the harsh light of the hospital room, "military puttin' more money into your sorry ass." Ghost hums. The whirr of machines fills the silence, Soap tries to parse which is his lieutenant and which is the equipment.

"So what'd they put in me?"

"Metal plate, synthetic grey matter," Ghost lists, "couple wires-"

"The chip." Soap finishes. Ghost says nothing, but that's answer enough. "Christ." He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his cheek to feel the stubble. A couple days growth at least, but it's likely been longer.

"How was heaven?" Ghost asks, breaking the silence.

"Don't remember." He opens his eyes to look at Ghost, his face plate is open, and the soft click of cameras fills the room. There's something heavy in the air between them, some swallow of words unsaid.

"Me neither."

It takes a few days to get cleared for discharge. Longer to feel comfortable moving again. His fingers tingle and warm, moving like molasses whenever he tries to grab something. Every movement, really, feels compromisingly slow and unsteady. His physical therapist is quick to remind him that he did get shot in the head, but it doesn't help Soap's mood.

Irritability is a symptom, the doctors tell Price, one of the "undesirable" personality changes he's supposed to watch out for.

Soap watches Price snuff his cigar on the paper symptoms list in his office.

"New technology," Price tells him leaning back in his chair, "You doin' your job is all that matters, far as I'm concerned."

"Can barely hold pliers, sir." Soap tells him, his head bent. These meetings have begun to feel more like a confessional. Sins that only matter between him and his captain. Shortcomings that he needs the reassurance on.

"You'll get there," Price tells him gently, "the 141 isn't goin' anywhere without you."

It's night the first time he hears it, soft humming, he almost mistakes it for a dream.

His eye twitches, some frayed nerve ending sparking as heat shoots through his still pink scar. He jerks away from it, but it's in his head, burning pieces of him that have never seen fire.

"Oh," Something gentle echoes in his head with the cadence of someone seeing an unfamiliar cat, "what are you?"

A twitch in his side this time, his body jerking without his command, more movement quicker than he's had in months. It punches his breath out of him. His thighs squeeze, the muscles tensing and releasing before the humming returns. Tuneless but lulling.

Muscles twitch, moving up and down his body like a current. Each tenses and releases in turn. It's almost relaxing, his body cataloguing the different muscles and groups and easing the strain on them one by one. Until his cock twitches, and the humming turns to something throaty and pleased.

"That's a surprise." It sounds so... Another twitch and Soap wraps his fingers around his neglected length. A "symptom" they'd called it, weeks, months, since he'd gotten hard. That fucking thing they'd put in his head dulling his needs to make him a perfect, undistracted, soldier.

And fuck he'd forgotten how good it felt. His callused hand is a godsend as he strokes it up and down his cock. There's another pleased hum in his head.

"Yeah I bet that feels good." Cooing. God it just makes his cock ache, makes it harder to hold back the twist of his wrist around the mushroomed head of his cock. Christ a man can only go so long without before it starts driving him made.

"Talk to me again bonnie," He asks the air, whatever you are, you're doing more than the doctors could.

"Think I- oops-" The heat in his head shocks through him and he smacks his free hand against his scarred head with a clawed hiss, "-get you out of here-" it stops just as quickly as it appeared and a burst of laughter tears itself from Soap's chest, "-there we go. Just us now, beautiful."

Soap's hips jump off the bed, thrusting into his hand as he squeezes his cock to try and stop the way his balls had tightened at your voice. You mumble something and his brows twitch together, trying to hear. Something, anything, just keep talking to him.

"Gonna keep you," You mutter and Soap can't stop the come that shoots over his fingers. Keep you, he thinks. Whatever you are. You're his.

Ai, he decides in the morning, you're some sort of ai that's come with the chip. Not the most unwelcome surprise, and a reasonable explanation if he's ever come up with one.

So there's no reason to tell anyone about you.

The thought festers possessively in his chest. Keeping you, you'd said, and he'd agreed. He was going to keep you.

His fingers are stronger when he grabs his tray from Ghost in the mess hall. Maybe you coming online flipped the rest of the switches for his body. Must be. He hasn't felt like this since, well, since he got his brains blown out.

You stretch in your desk chair and feel your back pop with a satisfied moan. You scratch at your head under your headset and rub your eyes. Your computer screen flashes with a blue and white box of code. Files and folders, numbers and brackets, oh it's a jumbled fucking mess of slapshod code and blockades.

Military grade really is the lowest they've got.

Too many backdoors for you to slip into and poke around in, including a new bot they've rolled into special forces. Too much internal spyware for the thing not to be important, but you don't think anyone will notice that you've disabled it. Besides the poor thing was already operating at a handicap with half its systems running on rerouted power just to keep open whatever channel was designated "order bypass."

Unusual to find a bot with working genitals, but you suppose even the military has to get a little freaky eventually.

Yeah, you're gonna have fun with this thing.

"Welcome to the party, Soap." You smile into your mic, "We're gonna have a lot of fun together."

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #soap modern warfare #hello little hacker I see you've found a backdoor into the taskforce #also hey Soap? What the fuck did they put in your head?

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ghosts-bandwagon · 2 years ago

Note

Wish to see the boys(all of them) using or playing with the period cramp simulator, with the reader holding the remote, and yes it’s goes along with the period cramp scenario, please(and yes they all went to level 10, painfully)

The post they’re referencing is this one!

Ghost is fucking sweating, he’s trying so hard not to express outward discomfort because he’s seen you. He’s seen how strong you are and how you handle it so he tries to do the same. He’s gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw and manages to get to level 10. He’s nauseous, sweaty, antsy but he breathes through it as much as he can, but sweet Jesus fuck it hurts, he eventually doubles over and rips the electrode pads off of him, nauseous, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. He’s about to shoo away the heating pad you’re offering him before he thinks back to every time the roles were reversed and he gratefully albeit reluctantly accepts and let’s you press it against his lower abdomen. You’re gonna owe him for this.

Soap… I don’t think he can make it to 10 tbh he’s overconfident and definitely dug his own grave. I feel like he’d get to maybe 7 or 8 before he taps out, he’s gripping the chair and leaving indents in the material, almost has tears in his eyes by the time he taps out. Give him lots of love, he’ll need it after that.

Price uh, nah love I’m good. But he caves when you pout at him. He’s putting on a brave show but he’s sweating bullets by the time he gets to level 7, he’s laughing nervously, asking when it’ll be over and then you crank it to 10 and he’s paralyzed. The wind just gets punched out of his chest and when you’ve turned it off, he’s amazed that you deal with that once a month

Gaz, oh baby boy, just like Soap he talked a bit game, fully confident that he could handle it but he’s jittery and queasy by the time the machine hits level 6. He’s laughing nervously and trying to crack jokes but he’s interrupted mid-sentence by you cranking up the machine. He gets to 8 before he taps out.

König is hesitant to try it but he’ll do it for you. Dear god he regrets it immediately. It starts off as discomfort and he’s talking himself through it, and as the levels get higher and higher he’s struggling a little to keep talking through it. His hands are balled into fists on his knees, his jaw is tight as he wills himself to breathe through it. Once he’s at 9 or 10, he’s talking about how awestruck he is that you deal with this on a monthly basis. Talking is the only thing that’s helping him right now. Eventually you shut the machine off and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon, clutching his stomach and gratefully accepting the hot compress you’ve given him.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

Text

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

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

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

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

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

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations:

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

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

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

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

[Eight years ago]

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

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

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

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

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

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

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

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

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

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

[Five years ago]

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

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

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

[Four years ago]

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

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

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

[Three years ago]

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

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

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

[Two years ago]

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

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

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

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

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ]

[London, England]

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

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

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

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

It turned into something bigger

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

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

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags:

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

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nb-hedgewolf · 4 months ago

Text

The light is MINE.

Small story underneath Readmore. Please reblog instead of liking!

Robotnik's latest plan to try to get rid of Sonic, and take over the world, had involved the creation of space-time vortexes, using the a gemstone known as the "Warp Topaz". Reaching into other realities to gather resources for his plans, and to trap Sonic inside a dimension where he'd be unable to thwart his plans.

This idea backfired the moment it was put into motion. For, unbeknownst to him, in a different reality, a beast of famine and darkness could feel the ripples his machine left in time and space. In a last attempt to secure it's survival, the heinous beast tore a hole from it's home dimension and into Robotnik's machine.

Before the hedgehog Robotnik oh-so dreaded could do as little as drop a snarky comment, the machine's alarms blared out loud, sending constant distress signals to the scientist's control panel, as it detected an unknown entity crawling through it's insides.

The next thing anyone knew was that Sonic began to fight this mangled monstrosity made of crystal bones. A walking corpse of a higher being, desiring nothing but to sink it's fangs into the hedgehog. Each punch from this thing felt terrible, the pain this pitiful monster felt was being inflicted into Sonic.

The fight went on for hours on end, the beast attacked relentlessly, not allowing the hedgehog even a single second to catch his breath, and it didn't seem to have intentions to stop any time soon either. Friends and curious onlookers had came to his aid a long time ago, but neither Sonic nor the beast wanted anyone nearby.

A knot tied deep inside Sonic, the way it felt to be attacked by this monster, he didn't want his friends to be forced to deal with it. It reminded him so much of the cold, numbing, painful, scalding, overwhelming pain from cyber corruption. And yet, this felt so much worse, according to him.

The moment Tails tried to approach Sonic, holding his Miles Electric in the end, exclaiming he had found a way to deal with this unknown thing, was... the end. The monster locked it's "eyes" on the fox, and prepared to attack. Sonic wouldn't let any harm come to his closest friend, his sibling...

So he took the hit for the fox. And this time, the beast sank it's claws deep into the hedgehog's body. Finally, after hours of constant fighting, time seemed to move slowly, the hedgehog tumbled back, feeling warm liquid flow down from his chest, a buzzing ring sound echoed in his ears, he couldn't tell what everyone was saying anymore.

After hours of battle, the hedgehog tripped down into the arms of the beast, and was devoured. Light expanded outwards, like an explosion, the moment Sonic and the beast made contact, light that shone brighter than anything any of them had ever seen. Soon, where once two beings stood, now only one entity remained: Golden fur covered its body, golden as the brightest of suns; dark crystalline armor adorned its form, as black as the darkest of nights.

It took a single step forward before roaring in anger, crying out in pain, screaming in agony. Its hunger for light was not yet quenched.

On that day, the hero of this world, the beacon of hope in the heart of every mobian, was extinguished. The torch of the vessel of chaos was never passed down, instead, its never-yielding flame was devoured by the dark maws of the beast from beyond space and time.

On that night, in roars and cries, it pledged to subdue, and consume, all the light in this universe, to punish humanity for it's hubris, for the inhabitants of this world were not free of sin in its eyes. Desiring light, power, and energy. Playing god, they had drained another one like itself, and destroyed it, forgotten it, erased it.

Now they all would pay the ultimate price.

Travelers from the world this creature first emerge would name this new being fueled by revenge "UB-Chaos". Also known as...

Entropy Spine Necrozma.

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