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danibee33 · 10 months ago

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ever after - purge!ghoap x reader

cw: dark themes, dubcon, noncon, graphic depictions of violence, blood, sa, overall just horror/slasher movie type of vibe *pls read at your own discretion*

word count: 1.9k

Purge - rid (someone or something) of an unwanted quality, condition, or feeling.

You’re not sure when the sun had set, or how long it’s been since the sirens sounded.

Unable to recall when you were separated from your small group.

You don’t even know if it’s your own blood you’re covered in, or someone else’s. Hopefully the latter..

All you know for certain is that someone is following you. And judging by the silent way they creep just within your peripherals, the knife in their hand glinting dangerously in the flickering, strobing lights, they were only trying to hide their presence enough to keep you waiting-

They want you to know you’re being hunted. Stalked like prey through the desolate back alleys.

You’re not made for this. You’re not a fighter, not a killer, you were never supposed to be here- alone. The grip you have on your own knife tightens to near painful, your breaths growing ragged and shallow, eyes desperately searching for an escape, for something, any fucking thing-

“Awh, c’mon pretty thing..” A terrible, raspy voice echoes off the brick around you, “Make it interesting for me.”

He’s getting closer, and you’re running out of time, and options. If you really ever had options to begin with.

“I think you’ll like what I have in mind for ya.”

Your stomach rolls, threatening to forcibly expel the insignificant amount of food you were able to choke down before the sirens rang out-

“I’ll be gentle.. At first. Get you nice and ready-” – you hear the deep groan he gives, inhaling through his nose, “mmh, fear has a smell, ya know? And fuck, pretty thing, you smell so goddamn good.”

You only just register the change in his tone, amusement turning to something far darker, obviously, he’s done toying with you- and without warning, long, lean arms wrap you up in a bear hug from behind. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s like he doesn’t even have to try to lift your feet from the ground, doesn’t feel when your heels strike at his shins.

Like the inexperienced idiot you are, you let the hunting blade in your hand clatter to the wet pavement- the potency of your fear numbing your fingers and hands. You try to scream out, but it’s muffled by a grimy, sweaty hand that smells of oil and pennies-

He shushes you almost.. sweetly. Like one might a child, his lips pressed right against the shell of your ear, “You’re a feisty one- I like that.”

With one arm still wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms down, he thrusts the other down the front of your pants, those same disgusting, stained fingers roughly cupping over your cunt- and you swear he fucking purrs against your neck.

But that fear that had gripped you so tightly minutes ago turns red and molten, something primal, instinctual taking over, something you’ve never quite felt before this moment- and you still can’t put a name to it -

With a nausea inducing crunch, the back of your head makes solid contact with his nose. The pain and shock is enough for him to shove you to the ground, your knees making contact first, the asphalt tearing your jeans, debris lodging itself in your soft flesh-

“You fucking bitch!”, the man wails, doubled over somewhere behind you.

You’ve already crawled away, your fingers frustratingly close to the hard rubber grip of your knife when you feel his hand wrap around your ankle. This time his hand isn’t close enough to silence the blood-curdling scream that tears itself from your chest, your free foot kicking vainly, fingertips clawing at the ground.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die terrified and alone on the greasy, wet pavement of a back alley that smells of garbage and ash.

And you wish it could be like the movies and books, where you simply blink yourself into peaceful dissociation- relive your greatest hits, see the faces of your loved ones one more time, maybe even shed a tear for all the experiences you’re going to miss.

But it’s nothing like the movies and the books.

You writhe under him, spit through clenched teeth, “Just do it.”

God, if you could see yourself now, you think you might actually be scared of her. Acting like an animal trapped in a wire, baring its teeth and hissing, howling even when you feel him rip the button and zipper of your pants,

“Don’t worry, pretty thing. I am-” He growls, lower half of his face still drenched in darkening crimson, “And I’m gonna make sure you suffer until the - very - fucking - end.”

Just as he cuts through your shirt, a thick shadow catches your eye. You try to focus on it, because you swear it moved. But, the longer you look, the more you convince yourself it was just your panic- no one was coming to help you. Hell, if anyone did come by, they might just help him-

Another guttural shriek bounces around the alley when he sinks his teeth into the fatty swell of your breast. Not hard enough to break skin, but you think you can already feel the bruise deep in your muscle- the pain radiating and unrelenting.

“You did this.” – he seethes, dirty fingers digging into your now bare thigh, “Could’ve made it good for ya, but then you had to be an ungrateful little brat.”

Your muscles shake and tremble from the prolonged effort of trying to get away, you taste blood in your mouth, but you’re not sure if it’s his or yours. Maybe you split your lip or bit your cheek, both, or more- you don’t know.

He pulls your underwear to the side, your leg pinned open by his own, “Ahh.. there she is. Been waitin’ for this-”

“Please-” You croak, your vocal chords shredded from screaming and shouting, “Please- don’t.”

Vomit rises in your throat when you feel his finger dip between your folds, your body shuddering to a halt- frozen once again.

“Awh..” He coos, pulling his hand away only to suck the offending digit between his lips, “Pretty thing wants to beg now, huh? Too bad-”

Liquid splatters across your face. It’s hot, which only confuses you more. It just keeps coming- soaking into your hair, and washing over your skin. And just as suddenly, the weight of your attacker is lifted, his body making a dull thud as it hits the ground.

What.. the fuck?

Your fear-addled brain isn’t keeping up. It isn’t comprehending this very abrupt change of events, or the fact that the unnaturally hot liquid that covers you reeks of iron, or that the shadows are moving again. Coming closer-

Wait, shadows?

Another scream is bubbling up your throat, but it's cut off when a hand wraps around your bicep, pulling your back off the ground, “Hey, s’allright lass, we got’ya.”

“Don’t-” You pull away, trying to cover your exposed chest.

You nearly stumble over getting to your feet, pulling the tattered remains of your shirt off the ground and jerking your pants back up. All the while, you’re trying to take slow steps in the opposite direction of the two men-

It’s dark, but you can see enough to know one of them is wearing a skull mask- and you wonder errantly if the skull sewn into the black cloth is actually real. The other one, the one that had helped you up, is standing just to Skull-Guy's side. The top half of his face covered by a red skull, though his looks more like a halloween costume.

“Well..” You say, voice far more confident than you expect, “What are you waiting for?”

They don’t move. Red-Skull simply meets the other’s eye before turning back to you, “I’m not running- so, do whatever you’re gonna do!”

You don't know where your raised voice and rage comes from. Maybe from the fact that you were still partially nude, your clothes thoroughly ruined, or maybe it’s because you’re covered in the blood of the man who had almost succeeded in defiling you-

“We saved you.” The taller one says, his accent different, brassy and curt.

“What do you want? A thank you card? JUST GET IT OVER WITH!”

Red raises his hands, “Woah, woah- we dinnae wan’ to hurt ye, lass. We heard ye screamin’. Saw what was goin’ on-”

When he steps forward, you take one back, “What do you want?”

The question seems to offend him, his eyes widening as he takes another step, “Don’ want anythin’. This is just what we do- we dinnae agree with the purge, but..” – he shrugs out of the thick jacket, giving you a view of his broad chest and strong arms, “it does make it easier to pick off the scum, y’ken?”

He holds the garment toward you, not daring to step any closer, “Glad we found ye’ when we did. Name’s Soap.”

You look at the jacket, and back to him, your arms still crossed over your chest- and somehow you’re even more confused than ever. They look dangerous, fuck, they are dangerous- they slit that man’s throat while he was hunched over you and then threw him to side like nothing more than trash. And now he’s offering you his clothes?

“What kind of name is Soap?”

A smile pulls at his lips, pushing the jacket a little closer, “ ‘M ‘fraid that’s classified.”

“We need to get a move on.” – shit, you’d almost forgotten the other man lurking behind Soap, his gaze hooded and indifferent.

“Cannae just leave ‘er here- the big bastard is Ghost, by the way.”

Finally, you take his offering, quickly wrapping yourself in the heavy material- immediately noticing the spicy, musky scent of him replacing the harsh metallic in your nostrils.

“Good girl..” Soap coos, still holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. And something about the sweet way he says the praise makes your stomach flutter, “Can we help ye get back to somewhere safe? Are ye with anyone else?”

“N-no.”, you struggle to speak above a whisper, “We were separated.”

Soap clicks his tongue, looking back at the one he called Ghost, “Are ye close to where you live?”

Without ceremony, he tugs the mask off his face, hooking it on one of the numerous tabs that litter his vest. And it’s an odd thing, to see just a normal man beneath- he’s attractive, in a rough-around-the-edges way. Striking blue eyes offset by olive tanned skin and hair dark enough you don’t if it’s black or brown in the lack of light.

It takes longer than you’re proud of to stammer out another pathetic ‘no’.

Soap’s gaze lingers on yours, “Ye could come with us.”

“Johnny-”

Both of you look at Ghost as he makes his way closer, his sheer size overwhelming you in the moment- fucking Christ.

“C’mon, LT- she’s got no one. And there’s still-” – he looks at the diver’s watch on his wrist, “four hours left ‘til sirens.”

The giant man glares down at his partner before pinning you with the same unwavering look, and maybe, for just a fleeting second, you think you see something akin to hunger in his eyes. But it’s gone just as fast-

“Fine.”

*throws this into the tumblr-verse and runs*

thank you for reading🖤 there’s only a million and five ways a part 2 could go… hmmm decisions, decisions.

#ghoap #forever purge #alternate universe #I’m new to the darker side of writing #but ghost and soap are not the heroes you might think #bee writes #call of duty #cod fandom #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost #soap #cod fanfic #reader insert

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