The Modern Warfare 2 Collection │MW2 x Reader

His Favourite

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, Gaslighting, Name-Calling, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You'.

You're Ghost's favourite recruit, though you'd never know it from the way he constantly berates you, his harsh accent splitting you apart from the rest of your peers as he picks you up on the most minor of mistakes.

Don't get it twisted, he'd do the same to any other recruit, he just seems to enjoy knocking some discipline into you. As he's doing right now in the privacy of a vacant store cupboard, pants pulled down to his thighs with you sat between them, taking his twitching, aching cock between your waiting lips.

"Just a pretty little people pleaser, aren't'ya," he says, one hand on the back of your head while the other grips your shoulder, keeping you from going anywhere. "Do anythin' for your Lieutenant,"

It's not a question. Your position now just proves that everything he's saying is nothing short of the truth. You've learnt how he likes it, how he gasps ever so slightly whenever you press the tip of your tongue into that one sensitive patch beside his most prominent vein, just two inches from his engorged ballsack.

His breath is short as you bob up and down his shaft, forced to take more of him as he pushes your head further down onto him and himself deeper into you. You hum, either in defence or enthusiastic agreement – it doesn't matter to Ghost. Especially when you're being so obedient, taking him inch by inch, his tip hitting the back of your throat, the tightness in his balls growing.

Despite how often he takes to disciplining you, it never seems enough. Within a day, he's ready to shoot as much cum down your throat as you can take, and then some. That, or he's herding you into a dark corner of the Base and pounding you senseless, calling you his fuck bunny, his personal cum rag, his favourite.

"Bet you wanted to join the military just to have men shout at you," he tells you, hands tight about your waist as he pushes himself all the way in, pulls halfway out, and repeats. He hardly breaks a sweat, years of abuse and hardship having shaped him into the image of Zeus; insatiable and unfettered.

"Bet y'enjoy makin' me angry, knowin- fuck-" – he feels himself twitch; he's close –knowin' that m'gonna fuck y'into shape."

He tells you how much you need this, need someone to teach you the difference between right and wrong, to teach you how to be worthy, to please him. He knows nothing will happen if he gets caught. Nothing substantial, at least. But you don't know that, hence he lets you feel as if he's entrusting you with a secret whenever he leads you into a dark room, your task already outlined just as his dick is in his pants. And you can only shut up and take it, trying your absolute hardest not to come undone in Ghost's calloused hands, trying to show your superior that you're able to take him – all of him – without unravelling at the seams.

He always proves you wrong but that's wherein the fun lies; getting to watch you squirm as he fills you from the inside only to make you run laps with the rest of your fellow recruits knowing that the limp in your gait is his doing, that you're trying your best to keep up with the others whilst also trying to keep Ghost's seed from leaking out of you.

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