The Modern Warfare 2 Collection │MW2 x Reader

Gladiator! Ghost

Warnings: 18+, Dub-Con, Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Dominant! Ghost, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Master/Servant Dynamics, Voyeurism, Public Humiliation, Sexual Coercion, Scene Inspired by 'Spartacus', Based on Spartacus' In-Universe History, Profanity, Implied Fem! Reader.

♡ He abuses his power over you every chance he gets. No exceptions.

♡ And all because you had to go and show him voluntary kindness, tending to his post-battle wounds and praising him for his efforts, all while touching him as delicately and as gently as you could. More so than anyone ever has.

♡ It's not long after this interaction that you find yourself stationed as Ghost's personal handmaiden; the perfect servant to see that his every desire is satiated.

♡ And, unfortunately for you, that often includes him coercing you into compromising positions.

♡ Even when he's been training all day, his muscles bulging, skin glistening with sweat, eyes ablaze with bloodlust, he finds time to seek you out and take you someplace isolated and quiet – where nobody else can see or save you – and pumps his fury into you.

♡ He's never gentle with it, either. He isn't trained to be.

♡ He's panting, chest heaving and broad at your back as he presses you into the stone wall of the cellar, your legs forcefully parted by a thick, toned thigh – the skin of which is covered in your dripping essence – as he pounds into you with all his might.

♡ He calls you his maid – only his. Tells you that no-one else can have you, that they'd have to kill him if they wanted to possess you as he does.

♡ And you take it because that's all you can do. All you're allowed to do.

♡ You let him make your body feel like this is right, that the cracks of euphoria splintering between your legs justifies the way he grabs your hair and pulls you back to face him, only to force his eager tongue into your mouth.

♡ You clench around him – unwillingly so. Encourage him.

♡ You hear him groan, feel his voice heavy on your tongue before he pulls away, slipping a hand beneath the fabric of your tunic and squeezing your clit between his fingers. You cry out, pressing back into him, taking him deeper.

♡ "You're mine," he tells you. He punctuates his point with a quick, harsh slap to your clit – one that leaves you whining. "I'll give you my babe – give you the privilege of bringing my son into this world."

♡ Amidst the reluctant pleasure electrifying your every sense, you know he's close. His tip – pressing into the deepest part of you, a place you didn't even know existed before he found it – bulbous and aching, pulses in time with his heartbeat. You close your eyes and brace for it – the warmth, the wet. The inevitable.

♡ And, sure as rain after thunder, Ghost growls, pressing as deep into you as your body will allow and then some, as he cums, hot and heavy. You can physically feel his semen pumping through his shaft as he empties every ounce of his seed into your wanting womb – filled beyond full – leaving you whining and trying your best to pull away from his cock.

♡ He holds you still and glowers, a vein across his bicep twitching – almost winking at you – as he slams his hand beside your head, caging you . As if to remind you that he's the one in charge here.

♡ So you still, panting, sweating and almost crying, as his seed nestles inside you, knowing there's nothing you can do until he's ready to let you go – until he's sure his efforts have taken. And all you can focus on is how heavy he feels inside you, the feeling of his chest almost crushing you against the wall as he breathes deeply. The gradual softening of his tip at your cervix as he grows flaccid.

♡ The hand between your thighs – coated translucent and white – comes to rest upon your stomach. You can feel him looking down at the phantom bump from over your shoulder. His voice is obsidian.

♡ "If I haven't imparted him upon you already."

♡ In Ghost's head, he's justified in his actions. Even though he can feel you trying to peel away from him, your heart racing to the rhythm of fear and not of lust. Even though he knows you will likely retreat to your shared chambers and weep into your pillow. He knows, deep down, that you want as he does. A family.

♡ It's all he can think about aside from the bloodshed and the fight for survival. You are all he can think about. The only thing that can placate his rage.

♡ It's his reason. His only reason to continue.

♡ In his own way, this is his manufacturing of a family. Turning you from a servant into the mother of his children, and transforming him – a beast – into a father.

♡ Not that you'd know this, but he has more influence within the Master's residence than most – especially as his most prized gladiator.

♡ Whenever the Master throws parties, he convinces him to put the maids – you – on display, to show the other houses that his gladiators are not just fighters, but incessant lovers, too.

♡ More often than not, you've had to strip bare and bear the weight of the stares of party-goers as Ghost, assigned to be the night's show pony, makes sure everyone knows who you belong to.

♡ It's an exercise of power. Of ownership.

♡ He makes no effort to hide his endurance, his speed, often finishing at a rate that leaves you terrified knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it, to hide away and prevent your seemingly inevitable pregnancy at the hands of the man you call Master.

♡ Truth be told, you'd be ashamed of enjoying the weight of him inside you – the familiar feeling of his tip hitting a note within you that leaves you whining a wanton tune – if it weren't for the fact that your situation could be worse – that it could be another of the Master's loyal fighters pounding you, holding you and bruising your waist. Degrading you from a maid to a whore for all to see.

♡ Ghost can see, during times like these, the women who wish to be you and the men who crave to be him. And he hides his smile beneath learned stoicism, even as he's overcome with the euphoria of emptying himself inside you, lifting you by the hips so nothing of his making is wasted.

♡ And you can do nothing to fight against it.

♡ And, when he's asked by some curious voyeur, he'll do it all again. And again. And again.

♡ This is the only way he can guarantee his seed takes – the only way he can make sure you won't go off running trying to cleanse yourself of his semen rolling down your thighs, of his efforts taking form and bearing fruit inside you.

♡ He knows it's just a matter of time until he can afford both your and his freedom, until he can take you away from this place and raise your family together – someplace far from this spectacle of murder.

♡ Until then, he'll convince his Master to fund these social affairs, to allow you to remain as his maid.

♡His.

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