mistyresolve

[mistyresolve]

yanno, i’ve been thinking and getting chased by an unfriendly ghost would actually be so terrifying…i may or may not be writing something where someone is being chased by ghost

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod ghost #cod

[mistyresolve]

| RTB - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 3.4k

Summary - The reader is the pilot, AKA Stitch, of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killers in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. After their latest mission, Ghost seeks out Stitch to offer a special thank you.

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY, swearing, dry humping, switch, unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - If you haven't already, I would suggest you read Incident Report before this one

Masterlist  ❤︎

Soot and smoke coated Ghost’s tongue and every breath felt like an attack on his lungs. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder made his head spin. All that combined with adrenaline and anger, it was his life support. He clung to his senses with a feverish need. Rubble and bullet shells littered the ground around them. His once-black uniform took on a greyish hue from all the dust. Sweat rolled down his back and he had to blink it from his eyes. 

Beside him, Price was on the radio, his outrage tangible as he called for aerial backup for a third time, “I’ve got my men pinned here! Where the fuck is my support!”.   

Ghost felt a bullet's heat as it raced past the exposed skin of his neck, leaving behind the ghost of a burn. He ducked down behind the concrete barrier, cursing at himself, “We won’t be able to hold this position for much longer, Price. We need a plan to get us the fuck out of here,” Simon repositioned himself for a better vantage point. Ghost had long since run out of ammo and had resorted to picking up magazines from his dead comrades. He silently thanked every one of them, ripping off the dog tags from the few he could to take back to base with him. 

Price gave him a curt nod, “Chopper is five minutes out. They were diverted from another mission.” his face was grim and every muscle in his body was taut, readying to run for new cover or the bite of a bullet. Five minutes was a lot of time in situations like this, a lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He could die in half that. 

The team was forced into a corner of the compound, and they were getting hammered.  There was nowhere left to go. He kept one eye on the darkening sky beyond the compound's wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming heli. He figured the pilots on board would have reached out by now, but the radio remained utterly and eerily silent. 

He craned his neck, hearing the distant sound of its propellors, but with the ruckus around them, it was difficult to determine exactly how far out it was. Something in his soul urged him to bring his radio to his mouth, “We’re in the southwest corner,” he was speaking to the pilots, who were most likely biding their time before revealing their presence to the enemy. If that were the case they were probably dark, using minimal instruments to keep their profile as discreet as possible. 

Then he saw it. The slightly darker patch of sky. 

Then it was firing, and screams followed. 

And just like that, this fight was shifted in their favour. 

Bursts of orange and red as fire erupted from the helicopter's guns in erratic intervals, and in between they would shift positions, making it nearly impossible to predict where they would shoot from next.           

Then a very familiar voice came across the radio, “Hello boys.”

An involuntary smile split across Ghost’s face.

“You’re fashionably late,” Price quipped back. 

“And here I thought you’d be excited to see us,” you replied as you dipped the heli back behind the walls, using it as cover as you moved closer to the closed gates keeping them from their escape, “Should I knock?”

They didn’t bother with a reply before Dutch let loose, blasting open the gates. You could nearly hear his smile, “Ladies first.”  

Being diverted from a different mission meant you didn’t have nearly enough firepower or fuel to do any real damage, but you could do enough so the soldier below would be able to breathe a little and regain their footing.   

You glanced down at your fuel gauge, cursing, “We’ve got five minutes of fuel before we’re RTB. Give me some targets,” You couldn’t stop yourself from searching the ground below in hopes of seeing a familiar figure.

Someone pointed a laser at one of the watchtowers, marking it and the people within as prey. You angled the aircraft, giving Dutch a clear view of the tower. With the help of the last HELLFIRE missile you had, it was desecrated in a matter of seconds. 

The floodlights that were pointed to the outside of the compound turned on, momentarily blinding you. The enemy used the distraction to shoot back at you. Bullets dinged off the sides of the Apache.

“Smoke!” someone called from over the radio.

“Flares,” your muscle memories kicked in, your thumb finding the appropriate buttons as your eyes still had yet to adjust. Somewhere beyond the cockpit, you heard as your flares interrupt your death. You gritted your teeth, you weren’t sure you had the firepower left to fight this fight, but the thought of leaving those guys down there helpless wasn’t one you were willing to have. 

Your attention snagged on the fuel. 

You didn’t have a choice. You were already cutting it close. 

Dutch listed off what he had left to throw at him. The list was devastatingly short.     

“I have one more good run before I have to turn back.” 

Another laser pointed to a truck on the other side of the now blown open door, a mounted machine gun giving suppressant fire to the ground crew. With that truck, even with the gate opened, they weren’t going anywhere. 

“Copy,” Dutch replied, his head already turned and locking in on the target. He unloaded the last of his rounds into the truck and the surrounding area. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back from the fight, “We’re RTB,” again you search for Ghost amongst the group. Finally catching the flash of white of his skull mask. The nerves that gripped your chest loosened, “And as much as I love these play dates with you guys try and stay out of trouble will you?” 

You’d arrived back to base a few hours ago but still had yet to change out of your jumpsuit. You were immediately dragged into a debrief. You checked your watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since this meeting began.

Task Force 141 has yet to return, and you were beginning to ruminate. While in the sky it was easier to ignore your feelings, having to focus on not being struck by an anti-air and falling out of the sky didn’t allow for such mundane activities. Now that you were on the ground, you had all the time and safety in the world to just think. 

You could say that’s why you loved flying so much. You’d never be able to say it out loud under the fear that you’d be grounded for a month under the mental health act; but, you’d sooner die than give up flying. 

Suppressing a yawn you sat next to Dutch in the room, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of you. Your eyes grew heavy as you blinked up at the screen before you. You leaned closer to Dutch, “You think they’d notice if I just left?” 

A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth, “Not if you crawled.”

You pinched his thigh, scowling, “You’re a pervert.” 

There were probably twenty other people in this room right now. You could undoubtedly sneak out. 

A shiver raced down your spine, and your instinct told you that someone was looking at you. You peeked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the tall ominous figure standing at the back of the room. His hand still hovering over the doorknob. He jerked his chin to the hallway. A silent invitation to join him. 

Dutch was already rolling his eyes in pretend irritation, “You’re boyfriend beckons you.”

You made a face at him, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Tell him that.”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at the idea. You two were by no means together. Not to say that there wasn’t something there that could potentially foster such as relationship, but now wasn’t the right time. Neither of you had the time or the means for it. It would only compromise both of your work. 

And relationships between two soldiers were frowned upon by the higher-ups.  

You stood up silently, kicking Dutches ankles on your way by.   

Ghost slipped out of the room all too silently. You met him just down the hall.

His eyes dipped to your chest and heated. You removed the top of your jumpsuit and tied it around your waist, revealing the plain black tank underneath that did everything right to show off your curves. 

Then he was looking everywhere but you, his shoulders tensing, before he started to walk down the hallway. You fell into pace beside him. 

You check over him, looking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that you couldn’t find anything you tilted your face up to his, “You guys should've had an aircraft on standby for that mission,” you reprimanded, half annoyed with him for getting into danger. 

He shrugged, “It was supposed to be covert.”

You analyzed his dark uniform, perfect for blending into the night and the shadows. He didn’t have his gun, and he carried his tactical vest in his hand. 

“You guys were lucky we had enough fuel to divert our route. What if we weren’t there?” you bit out, anger flushing your skin. 

He opened a door for you. The door to his accommodations, you realized. You couldn’t help but notice the space still smelled like you. Or your signature scene of eucalyptus and lavender. You’ve been spending a condemning amount of time here, and with him.  

“Good thing we’re lucky,” he pulled at the words with his tongue before turning back to you, eyes flashing to your figure again. His hands reached down to the know that kept your jumpsuit tied to your waist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You could still smell the fight on him. Dirt and smoke. A now familiar smell. 

Your fingers hooked around his belt loops. Heat radiated off of him and warmed your front. Already you were breathless. 

He shook his head, “It’s a damn good thing you were there.”

A question formed and you tilted your head at him, lips parting, “How did you know to tell us where you were? How did you know we were already there?” You had made sure your ETA was skewed to disorientate the enemy if they had access to your guys’ comms.  

“I figured there was a reason you guys were dark,” his hand traced the lines of your body, memorizing the feel of you under his fingers. They twitched impatiently against you. He slowly walked you backwards to the door to his bedroom, taking his time in watching you stumble over your weakening knees. “How can I thank you?” 

If he could read your mind and all the filthy thoughts that popped into your mind, he hid it well. Your ears burned in chagrin. You tugged his shirt out from his pants, diving underneath to touch his skin, “Let me touch you.” 

Ghost bit back a hiss when you dug your nails into his abdomen. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back only to lock it. Within seconds, his shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, his muscles on full display as he did so. Your mouth went dry and the sight and the heat that was just at the tips of your ears shot down between your legs. No amount of time would ever tire you of seeing this man undress. 

Next was his mask, revealing the devilishly beautiful man underneath. The only way you could describe him was as “sinful”. Black still smeared across his features but it only accentuated his features.   

Fuck, you would eat out of the palm of his hand if he told you to. 

Whatever he saw on your face made him look away from you with a shy smile, a breath of a laugh escaping him. 

You brought his face back to yours, and you had to stand on your toes to reach his mouth. You’d be a fool to think that the kiss was anything but greedy. His mouth immediately opened to yours and he tilted your head with a hand to deepen it. You pressed yourself into him, needing to feel him against every inch of you. A calloused hand reached to touch the bare skin under your tank and traced the line of your spine. Your tongue brushed against him, and you turned to liquid.   

He undid the knot of your jumpsuit, and you stepped out of it. Leaving you bare apart from the tank top, a bra, and underwear.

This time, it was your turn to guide him. You took him to his bed, “Lay down.”

He didn’t waste a second and pulled you down with him. You were a tangle of limbs before you planted your knees on either side of his hips. With shaking fingers, you shamelessly outlined the lines and curves of his abs and chest.    

Not once did either of you break the kiss, which had become a mess of breath and lips and teeth.

You pressed your hips into his, finding his own arousal there. He groaned at the pressure, hands flying to your waist, and pulling you harder to him. Already a carnal heat that only showed up when you were with him was building somewhere low in your womb. And even lower still.

God, he felt good.   

He was going to be the death of you. You were going to burn up in his arms until there was nothing left of you but your need for him. 

He paused for a second, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his pants to readjust himself to better align with your strides. You tested, feeling the full length of him pressed to your core, “Carry on,” before his smile could take form it fell away to a hiss when you began a languid pace.  

You rolled yourself down on him, your mouth finding the pulse at his throat and licked a stripe it. 

Simon liked to pride himself on his control over his needs. He wasn’t a teenage boy after all. He was a man who was more than capable of asserting some sort of rule over his body. 

Until just now. 

Right then, his entire mind went blank.

He wasn’t sure if he had inhaled too much smoke or if he over-exerted himself today, but that control was nowhere to be seen. His hands fell to your thighs, allowing you full reign on the speed and intensity. 

You felt a knot at the apex of your tights tighten, and the liquid arousal that accompanied your desire. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were already soaking through your panties and his pants.

Your kisses to his skin turn into hot desperate breaths, and it sent tingles throughout his body. Your moans were like fuel to a flame and it was driving him insane.    

You clung to him, his skin slick with yours and his sweat, as you chased after your climax. He let you use him however you needed. Some ludicrous and giddy part of him revelled at the fact that he wasn’t even inside you and you were still half-wild for him. 

Suddenly, your pace stuttered and became erratic. That knot finally loosened and you melted onto him, your body twitching, but you maintained some form of a rhythm.   

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lips pulled between his teeth.   

You felt him jerk under you, pressing himself impossibly closer to you, his mouth falling open into a downright filthy moan. 

You welcomed the wet warmth between him and you that followed. 

You chased after his release with him. 

You also came back down with him, slowing down to a purr on top of him. 

He was breathless, his body jolting with every change of direction.

He would have been a little embarrassed for cumming in his pants if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. 

“So sensitive,” you crooned, drawing a line from his heart to the line of hair that faded into the cover of his pants. At first, you weren’t sure he heard you, but then he was growling and flipping you off him. You were face down on the bad, trapped underneath him, his knees moving to spread your legs apart. 

“Shouldn’ve said that,” he snarled, his voice dangerous. 

He pressed himself into your backside. 

He was still devastatingly hard. 

You whimpered into his bed, arching your back.

A hand slapped your clothes pussy and you mewled at him in understanding. 

Do. Not. Move.

Then the fingers of the same hand outlined your folds over the already damp fabric, focusing on your clit. With his weight on top of you giving your lungs little room to expand and the fact that your brain was short-circuiting your breaths become shallow and unproductive.

He pressed his fingers into your cunt, the only thing keeping him from actually entering you was your panties. 

You writhed, desperate for friction. A second slap against your heat stilled you. 

“Ohmygod,” you breathed, your legs trembling.

He pushed the cursed fabric down your legs, stopping at your knees. His fingers delved into the slickness there. He swore, almost impressed with how wet you actually were. 

Spread your arousal everywhere, across your folds, the sides of your thighs, up to the rounds of your ass. He wanted you a mess in his bed. And you were. You weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but there was a high chance you were. 

Then his attention was back at your core, finger sliding into you without so much as a warning. Your greedy pussy tightened around his fingers, milking them as if they were his cock. His approving groan was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He was whispering naughty, impish things into your ear. Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made to want to scream.  

Still sensitive from before, it didn’t take much from him to entice another orgasm from you. Time wrapped but it couldn’t have been less than a minute before you were spasming around his fingers, and your mind was momentarily fried. 

He was whispering in your ear. Your comprehension went out the window so didn’t know what he was saying but from the tone of his voice, he was mocking you. 

You felt him shift so he was behind you. He attempted to knock your legs further apart but your panties were still locked around your knees, tying them together. 

You felt something warm and velvety soft tap at your entrance. Once, twice. He slid his cock between his fld, coating himself in you. 

He asked you a question, probably for permission. The thought that you could string together a coherent sentence right now was laughable. You weren’t even sure you could be trusted to provide your own name. 

You could only nod and with your last dregs of will, lift your hips to his.     

There was no amount the sex or foreplay that could prepare you for the sheer fucking size of him. He wasn’t just long, not that his eight inches was something to roll your eyes at, but he was thick. Thick enough that when you took him into your mouth, your jaw would ache for days afterward. He was always gentle and never shoved himself inside you like an animal, but you still needed a few seconds to catch your breath each time.  

The broken sound that same out of you was naughty, and Simon had to bite his lip to keep from cumming from the sound alone. You were also impossibly tight, but he’d be damned if he got bested by you a second time tonight. 

He cruised into a fast pace, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust. And with every retreat, he brushed against your g spot.  

In these moments, there was only him. Only the sounds of his breath, and the feel of his skin. It made him addicting. When with him, especially like this, it was like a moment of reprieve from worries and stresses in life. 

The world could be ending and you wouldn’t care. There could be air raids and a fire outside your door and you would still feel completely safe with him. Death and hurt couldn’t reach you when you were in his arms.  

His rhythm faltered when you squeezed around him, and he cursed, his arms moved from your ass to brace around you. He just arms shook to keep from crushing you.  

He could feel you quivering, both around him and beneath him as your third orgasm approached. 

You were going to be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit. 

You writhed under him as you reached your undoeing, unsure if you wanted him further in or out of you.  

You could feel his seed spurt out of him, and coat your inner walls. You could feel his cock twitch with every spray. 

He started to slow, letting you reel yourself back into your body. You were spooled out across his bed, onto the floor, floating in the air. 

He slid off the bed, carefully tucking himself back into his pants. Which, only now did you realize he didn’t have the patient to remove. He was all wandering eyes and a rueful grin. He was slightly out of breath when he spoke, “So sensitive.” 

A/N: You like that?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #call of duty smut

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon "Ghost" Riley X

Medic!Reader (Part 7)

Word Count - 4.7K

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn. This chapter describes scenes that some people may find disturbing, such as war crimes, mutilation, and death.

A/N - This chapter is tuff ngl.

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 6

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

“Better,” Ghost said from somewhere at your side, his attention divided by watching you practice your throwing knife skills and cleaning his rifle, “But stop flicking your wrist, it’s unnecessary.” 

Since you arrived here Ghost had dedicated a surprising amount of time to teaching you how to throw a knife. Your aim was still off and you had the occasional miss, but you were improving. He’s had you standing in front of the piece of wood for the last hour throwing the knives he’s so graciously let you borrow, picking them up and doing it all over again. He was a good teacher, but a tough one. Not even you could be spared from his hazing lectures of form and technique. And on more than one occasion you stomped off on him in frustration, only to sheepishly return after some time to restart after cooling off. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression bored, “Are you even watching?” 

“Yes. Now, throw,” he instructed, dark eyes flicking up to you, and when he saw that you were still looking at him he twirled his finger in a “turn” gesture. 

With a sigh, you turn back around and aim at the center of the target painted into a wooden board. You lined yourself up, your tongue instinctively sticking out, a habit you had since you were a child when in focus, and threw the blade. The handle banged off the board and clanged to the ground. 

“I just told you to stop flicking your wrist,” he commented as he slid ammo into one of his magazines. 

You spun on him, annoyance twinging your tone “You come over here and throw one.” 

He placed the magazine on the table beside him and strode towards you with a confidence you envied, plucked the blade right out of your hand and threw it. It embedded itself deep into the wood. Right in the middle. He held his hand out for another. Again, it landed in the middle with a satisfying thud. Impressively close to the first. He threw two more and only one of them wasn’t a bullseye instead it landed in the next ring. 

You clicked your tongue, “Alright,” you pushed him back towards his guns and ammo, “Go away.” 

For the last two days, it’s done nothing but storm, and everyone has taken shelter in the warehouse where there was still a working heater. But now that the nightly meeting and dinner had been served, everyone was headed back for the bunks for the night. The emotions have been running high the last few days and the weather was making it even harder to get things done. Soap was trying his best to keep up morale, but even he grew weary of waiting. Price and Gaz had gone on recon today to check out the town and came back with the news that the military was pulling out. Laswell was less than thrilled to have the entire team invading her space while she tried to work. 

She, out of all of you, felt the pressure the most.  

Tonight it was your turn to take the night watch, and Ghost stayed behind until midnight to keep you company. He even went on the few patrols he was with you for, “You never talk about your family,” Ghost clutched at his rifle as he strolled beside you, purposefully shortening his stride so you could keep up.

“Well, I could say the same about you,” you knock your shoulder into him, trying to come off as playful but in truth the last thing you wanted to do was unpack the fuckery that was your family. 

“That’s because I’ve got skeletons in my closet,” he shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about it. You’ve become accustomed to his casual attitude; where normal people would become skittish with that type of admission, he wasn’t. 

You hummed, inching closer to him. Even in the rain his body heat radiating from him. 

“Well,” you started, chewing on the inside of your cheek as unease rippled through your gut, “My parents divorced when I was sixteen. My mother is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. She used to take me to the theatres every Sunday for the matinee.” 

“And your father?” He asked carefully, sensing your hesitation on the matter. His attention was on you but he made it less intense by looking off into the darkened shadows of the trees beyond the fences. 

“He’s…” your throat narrowed at the memory of him, of his hardened face and emotionless eyes, “He’s the worst man I’ve ever met. And I was his favourite,” you wrung your fingers, the tips of them going numb from the cold air, “He’s estranged now and I haven’t heard from since the divorce.” A lie. You knew exactly where and what he was doing. You also knew he kept a close eye on you and yours. “My mom has since remarried. To a guy she went to high school with, it’s quite adorable,” 

“Any siblings?” He asked as he opened the door to the warehouse for you. He didn’t push for more information, understanding that were some things better left unsaid.

“Two,” your heart skipped a beat, “Both significantly older. But one of them died when I was in high school. A car accident,” you didn’t give any more detail than that. Didn’t think you could handle dredging up old wounds. 

You silently thanked Simon for not giving you a half-hearted “I’m sorry” at the mention of your dead brother.

You told him about your childhood friends, and about the sports you played. You told him about how your brothers used to have epic fights in the backyard, and how one of them had ended with your father making them run laps at the track until one of them collapsed and the other threw up all over the grass. 

Ghost quietly listened, adding little comments here and there. He just liked hearing you talk and would sit here for hours completely content with doing just that. 

As soon as the clock struck twelve a yawn interrupted him mid-sentence and you sent him off to bed. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll keep out of trouble. But you were up last night for your watch, you need to sleep,” you shooed him out the door. Before stepping out the door he turned to you, bending down to catch your lips with his. It was a quick, innocent gesture, and the boyish grin of his that accompanied it was even more so. 

The rest of the night was fairly tame, but your raincoat never seemed to dry and you were forever cold. Gaz had pulled out a space heater at some point but even that couldn’t seem to thaw your frozen bones and muscles. What you really wanted was a hot shower. Or even better, a bath. You’d grown weary of the cold showers. 

The silence and isolation of the night watch were welcomed. It gave you time to think and to work through your ever-flowing thoughts and emotions. You were beginning to wonder what comes after this. If you were labelled as deserters, would they just “let” you get back to your normal job once you exposed Spector? There were so many questions and you were too afraid to find out what the answers would be. Would anyone even believe you guys? 

You spent the rest of the night trying to distract yourself before you found yourself spiralling. You reorganized the makeshift kitchen area, sewed a rip in your jacket pocket, and read the first few chapters of a particularly boring book Gaz had brought with him. You had quickly become thankful for the hourly strolls outside.     

“What are you doing up?” You asked, setting your rifle down, having done a patrol. It was a little past 4 am when you returned to find Soap lounging on one of the chairs at the makeshift table. 

His cheery blue eyes found yours, “Thought I’d come and keep you company.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you took a seat across from him, fiddling with a propane lamp before lighting it. 

He yawned and stretched out his arms above him, “Have you been able to?”    

You shook your head. Truth is, you haven’t had a good sleep since you got blown up. You grabbed a deck of cards someone had left on the table for everyone to use, “You shuffle,” you said, handing it to him. With practiced hands, he shuffled and dealt out a hand of canasta. 

He won the first round, and he sighed, “One more game, I’m starting to feel bad for you.”  

“Laswell find anything?” you asked. Laswell had left to meet up with one of her contacts and wasn’t going to be coming back until tomorrow.

“Not really,” he scratched at the growing beard on his face, and exchanged a card from his hand, “She’s stressing. So is Price.” 

“I don’t blame them,” you murmured. If you were going to ask anyone and not fear that they’d think you a doormat, you were going to ask Soap, “Are we still going to have our jobs once we figure all this out?”  

He blinked at you, “Our job?” then his expression softened in realization. You’d been uncharacteristically recluse these last few days and everyone had noticed it. And Soap was just relieved to have finally understood why that was, “When we find that bastard Spectator and pull his pants down in front of the brasses we’ll be handed medals.” He leaned back in his chair and it creaked against his weight, “There are, of course, probably going to be some legal measures that will need to be addressed, but when are there not? A few years back we were being hunted down by every allied force for ‘espionage’.” He rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the idea. “We’ve got our hands tied behind our backs a few times, and yet they haven’t gotten rid of us.” 

The looming misery that had been breathing down your neck for the last few weeks backed off at his answer.     

“That makes this a little less stressful,” You wished there was more you could do, but none of this was your specialty. “You want tea?” the chill you developed from your patrols was becoming unbearable. You got up to heat up water in a pot on the propane stove before he could answer. 

“Absolutely,” he replied. 

You turned back towards him just in time to catch him trying to peek at your cards, “Are you joking?” you threw up your hands in disbelief. You’ve played a lot of cards with Soap in the last two weeks, and never once did you win against him. Now you know why. You tossed a tea bag at him.

He slid back into his seat with a sheepish grin. 

“I’m not making you tea anymore,” you glowered over at him, “You can make your own.”

You cracked open the door to take a peek outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the ground sodden with water. It smelt like fresh earth. An hour later Ghost joined the two of you, claiming that Price was snoring so loud that he woke up thinking someone was attacking him with a chainsaw. Soap asked if he cared for a game of cards to which he curtly replied with a very stern, very definitive “No, you little crook.” 

After a brief discussion, you and Ghost decided it would be as good a time as ever to check in on the town. He wanted to scope it out to see if the military had pulled out yet. You wanted to check in on the school. 

The drive into the town was silent, the pit of your stomach was turned inside out. Your intuition screamed at you that something was wrong. 

Thick fog clung to the trees and made the drive more unsettling.  

A strange pungent smell invaded the cab of the truck a few miles back from the town. It smelt like smoke and something else you couldn’t place a finger on. The smell got stronger and stronger the closer you got, to the point where you shoved your nose into the collar of your shirt. 

“Ugh,” your eyes began to water, “What is that?” 

A large dark form lay on the side of the road as you turned a corner and Ghost slowed the vehicle, his hand dropping to the pistol at his thigh.   

So he feels the unease too. 

That thought alone was alarming. 

As you rolled forward confusion clouded your thoughts. The corpse of a horse was left in the ditch. Its brown coat stained darker in some spots—with dried blood. From the looks of it, this happened days ago.

“They killed off all their livestock,” Ghost grumbled, his attention fixed on something ahead of us. You followed his gaze. The herd of cows he passed every day we drove into town was left to rot in one of the fields surrounding the town. Their bodies are already half-decomposed. In their state, it was obvious this occurred days ago. 

“Isn’t this a war crime?” 

He nodded, features hardening. 

You wondered why no one had tried to dispose of them. 

In fact, as you neared, there wasn’t anyone around. No passing cars or people walking their dogs. 

As the town came into view, and the fog fell away from the buildings to could better make out the shapes hanging from the sign. You squinted, leaning forward. Your blood ran cold, “Riley–”

“I see it,” he grunted.

Three bodies hung from the town's welcome sign. The faces were mottle shades of blue and grey. Hands tied behind their back and feet bound together. Two men and one woman. They had died long after the cattle. Their clothes and hair remained dry, despite the last few days of rainfall. 

Ghost nodded his head towards the woman, “That’s my informant's wife.”    

If you hadn’t known him as well as you did you would have thought him indifferent to the sight but guilt lined the edges of his words. 

You looked back to the women and your stomach rolled. Her neck bent at an unnatural angle, “Did–” you shook your head in disbelief, “Why would they do this?” It was hard to believe that the same army you fought for could do something like this. Something so animal. 

Beside you, he didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the empty streets, finding nothing and no one. 

“Take me to the school,” you breathed, worry piling up inside you. 

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to argue but thought better of it. 

He rolled to a stop just outside the school, his brows furrowing, “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” 

You nodded, but you couldn’t find it within you to smile at him.

“You just need to click twice on your radio and I’ll be right back,” he was going to go check in on his informant. If his wife was dead, the probability that he was too was high.  

He waited for you to enter the building before he pulled out and went on his way.   

The school was desolate, no single child milled about. No teachers lined the halls. It was a school day, you were sure about that, yet no one was around. 

You followed the now-familiar path to the classroom at the back of the school. Peaking into empty classrooms on the way there. 

Your hands shook as you reached the door to the classroom, and eerie silence on the other side. You knocked but the door wasn’t shut properly and creaked open. The lights were off, and no voice answered from within as the sound of your approach. You swallowed the lump in your throat before pushing the door completely open. 

The room was empty. Yesterday's date is still etched in chalk on the chalkboard. 

Along with the angry rushed words, “Your sympathizers will be killed.” 

You didn’t need to ask to know those words were meant for you. You looked around the room once more, searching for any sign of life. But the room was nearly spotless, there was no blood, no sign of a struggle. Textbooks and pencils still lay on the desks of the students, ready for their next lesson. 

You picked up one of the books, examining it. 

Something outside caught your attention, a flash of a silhouette as it rushed across the courtyard.

You peered out the window and into the courtyard in hopes of seeing who was out there.

The breath wooshed out of your lungs, and the textbook in your hand slipped from your grip. You didn’t even hear it fall. 

Outside, hand-tied above their head to a wooden post was what was left of a female body. There wasn’t much left of her but the chard-blackened flesh. Gone was her scent of rosemary and pepper. Gone was her soft voice and youthful face. 

A hand flew up to cover your mouth as bile rose up your throat. 

The door behind you creaked open and you spun, hand going for your gun. 

A small familiar figure appeared, her usually emotionless face tear-stained. When she caught sight of you her face contorted into one of distrust and hate. 

It was the girl you had been helping heal the wound on her arm. 

Then she was rushing at you, her slim fist slamming into your armoured chest, her voice cracking as she yelled up at you. She kicked her feet out at your shins and ankles. You couldn’t understand her but her face revealed what she was saying. There didn’t need to be a language barrier to know what she was calling you. What she was saying. 

“This is your fault. You killed her. You’re a monster. A killer.” 

There was no doubt that her screams would draw attention if anyone was still here. You covered her mouth, hushing her. She trashed against you, nails digging into the exposed skin on your wrists. Her feet stomped on yours. 

Voices echoed down the hall and the both of you froze. Wide eyes connecting in dread. She stopped breathing entirely. You lifted a finger to your lips, prying she’d remain silent. Slowly and as quietly as you could you brought her to the windows, opened one of them and signalled for her to slide out. Her brows furrowed with skepticism but she obeyed. 

I was the lesser of two evils in her eyes.     

“Run,” you whispered to her, palming a throwing knife into her hand and she climbed out the window. 

She didn’t turn back to look at you as she sprinted to the other side of the building. You watched as she hesitated before running past the brutalized body of her teacher. You watched her dip out of one of the many doors. 

You tore yourself from the window and the scene beyond it, wishing you could at least cut her down from the post. 

But there was someone else here. 

You crept back out into the hallway, following the same route to the main foyer, trying to avoid the direction the voices came from. 

Wrong. 

At the end of the hallway were two men, their attire and the patches on the side of their arms making it obvious that weren’t here to be friendly. You considered ducking back behind the corner but they had already seen you. Their concealed faces snap towards you. 

Your hand reached for this radio at your shoulder and clicked it twice.  

“What are you doing here?” one of them called out, his head tilted to the side trying to get a better look at you. There was no way in hell you were going to get away with pretending to be a local. You were decked out in a bulletproof vest. Instinctively, your hand dipped for the pistol at your thigh but stopped short. They weren’t the enemy, they were here following orders. 

You cleared your throat, “I was told to meet the lieutenant here,” you could only hope they didn’t ask for a name.

They shared a look, the postures stiffening, before turning back to you, “Lieutenant, Smithers left yesterday morning.”

Welp.

You pulled one of the knives Ghost had given you earlier this morning from its sheath, “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” you swore. 

But it was too late, and this was going to be a short-lived fight. You were outnumbered and outmuscled. You could only hope you would be able to hold them off until Ghost got here.  

The first one moved quickly, and you flung the blade in his direction. You were aiming for his throat but missed. It landed in his shoulder, which worked well in slowing him down but wasn’t going to put him out of this fight. The second one closed in on you, throwing a dangerous left hook that for sure would have knocked you out cold if you hadn’t sidestepped him, now behind him you kicked out at the back of his leg. His momentary loss of balance was enough for you to drive your knee up into his face. Bone cracked, and his nose immediately started spewing blood everywhere. 

The first guy was still recovering from your knife, but he was still more than capable of doing major harm once he regained his composure. 

Your fingers found the warm metal of the soldier dog tag and wrapped your fist around it, tugging at it until his gargled protest echoed. You grabbed for the second knife equipped at your chest. 

An arm wrapped around your waist and you were being hauled up into the air and slammed into the wall behind you, knocking the wind out of you. You brought your elbow down in the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. Once. Twice. He let you go, driving his fist into your jaw. Your head snapped to the side and stars blossomed in the corners of your vision. 

You grappled at your assailant for purchase, but you were already being yanked into the other soldier's arms, your hand twisted painfully behind you.

“Bitch,” he missed in your ear.

Your vision was swimming but your eyes landed on the blade still jutting out of the first guy's shoulder. You leaned your weight back, lifting your feet to kick the blade in again. The man stumbled back, screaming. You dropped your weight as fast and hard as you can, bringing the last guy down with you. 

He was faster than you. Climbing on top of you, pressing into your back with a knee. His finger gripped at your scalp, bringing your head up only to smash it back into the ground. Again and again. 

There was a bang that cracked through the air. And you waited for the searing pain that usually accompanied a bullet. 

The heavy weight above you began to suffocate you, and you struggled for breath. A whimper escaped you. 

There was the sound of a struggle somewhere above you but you couldn’t find the strength to so much as look up. 

The weight was lifted off of you, and you came face to face with the unseeing, dead eyes of the soldier who was just bashing your face into the floor. Then you were being flipped and your eyes met familiar brown ones.  

Alarm flashed across his face, “Shit. Can you walk?”, his arm slipped under and around you. 

“Yes, I think,” You blinked up at him, your vision blurring. You wiped at your eyes, “I can’t see.”

“You’ve got blood everywhere,” Ghost hissed, shifting your weight onto him. The floor beneath your feet was slick and you fought to keep them under you. He nearly carried you to the truck before shoving you into the passenger seat. He was driving off before you could register where you were.  

“Was it just them?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road but they kept snapping over to you. 

Your arms felt heavy and you slumped in your seat, “I didn’t see anyone else.” 

He drove fast back down the road and out of the town. If there were two soldiers still here there was bound to be more. And he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

He reached into the back to find something, anything for you to wipe the blood from your face. You weren’t sure which of it was yours and which of it was the now dead soldiers. 

He found a plain white cotton shirt from his pack.

“You’ll never get the blood stains out,” you half joked as you wiped at your face.  

“I’m not too attached,” he ground out but you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for jests right now. 

“Did you find your informant?” you strained as you wound a particular sore spot above your brow. A break in the skin that would surely scar. 

“He was dead.” 

Nausea gripped your stomach and you weren’t sure if it was the signs of a concussion or because of the aftermath of what you’d seen at the school. Most likely both, “Riley,” you struggled, fingers finding the door handle, “Pull over.”

“What?” 

Saliva flooded your mouth, “Pull over.” 

He turned into the ditch, tossing you a concerned glance before he moved to open his door.

“Stay in the truck,” you ordered, before slipping out your door. 

You were retching before your feet found the earth. You retched until you couldn’t anymore. Until your stomach was empty and your legs were useless.  

He didn’t say a word when you stepped back into the truck, but his knuckles turned white in the steering wheel. 

He handed you the bottled water from the cup holder and you rinsed your mouth out before speaking again, “We can’t involve any more civilians,” even to your ears you sounded defeated, “They will hunt them down. They did. They…called her a sympathizer,” you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. You told him of the school, and the message written on the chalkboard. You told him about the little girl and the teacher had to leave in the courtyard. “Did you informant know anything about the rest of us? Did he know I was at the school while you were with him?”

He stiffened, “No and yes. He wasn’t aware that anyone other than us two were on the run,”   

We drove for another few hours before he turned off the road once more. 

He was jumping out of the truck and reaching into the back seats before coming around to your side. His head was on a swivel, as he walked, looking for any signs that we had a tail. He opened your door, “We can’t go back to camp just yet,” he handed you your pack and placed his at his feet.

You had noticed that he was going in the complete opposite direction of the base a while back. Those soldiers knew we had been to that village, and they had been waiting for us to turn back up. There was still a chance they were following us, hoping we’d bring them back to everyone else. 

“Agreed,” 

“Dress in your civi’s,” he took out a fresh pair of jeans and a plain grey sweater, “The closest safe house isn’t as secure as the last,” He looked over your face and removed his vest, “I can stop on the way there and get you some ice for your face.” 

Then he was shirtless, then he was nearly naked. 

And too soon he was dressed again. His sweater pulled tights across his chest and shoulders. He looked even better in regular clothes than he did in his uniform. He moved to help you with your vest, the velcro a harsh sound in the silence. He helped you wiggle out of your shirt. You were sticky, cold, wet and with blood. He handed you a hoodie and waited for you to put it on before closing the door.

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎  @yellow-devil18 ❤︎ @tangledredstringsoffate ❤︎ @gingergirl06 ❤︎ @wwe1rdc0re

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader

[mistyresolve]

i hate men

#not simon riley

[mistyresolve]

Hey can I make a request, Simon is screaming like bloody screaming loud as he stands with the vibrator in him because we know he isn’t sitting or bending he’s just standing as it’s in him! And his tears thickly falling and as he cries he slaps his own ass at least 6 time and then after that he slams his hands on his ass and digs his nails in HARD that it draws blood but he’s just screaming. And then he digs his nails up and gives a little shake

ummm, in all honestly it looks like you’ve got this one covered…imma sit this one out

#the way my face contorted in concern and disbelief #please never make a request again #im going to remove anon privileges

[mistyresolve]

| When He Comes Home - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

Inspired by this art is by Chimamonbun on X

When he arrived, he didn’t say a word. His eyes remained wide and unfocused. His chest slowly gave rise and fell to disjointed breaths. He was still covered in dirt and blood, and he smelt like gunpowder and sweat.  

“Simon,” you murmured, careful not to startle him. He was still standing in the boot room, his pack slung over one shoulder. His eyes slid over to you but he remained deathly still. He was looking at you but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing you. You reached out a hand but stopped yourself before you could touch him, “Do you want me to run you a bath?”

His nod was nearly imperceptible. He followed you into the bathroom and watched your every move, his mind and body still stuck in fight mode. When you ducked under the sink to look for a towel and realized there wasn’t one you turned to him, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you a towel.”   

You hesitated before leaving him.

And when you returned your heart sank.  

He’d already climbed into the tub, still in his clothes and gear. Aside from his still-masked face, he was fully submerged in the hot water.

The water was still running and steam wafted up.  

Blood was already staining the water in tendrils around him. You couldn’t see any major injuries and he wasn’t acting wounded so you knew none of it was his. 

Red rimmed his eyes and they were glossy. His pupils were blown as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Simon…are you okay?” you padded over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. 

He didn’t react. 

You reached for his mask, scared that the fabric would soak and he was going to accidentally waterboard himself.

His hand snapped to yours, squeezing your wrist until you whimpered. 

“Let me help you,” you pleaded, your chest aching at the sight of him like this. 

After a minute of silence, his grip on your wrist loosed.     

A/N - This takes place after the end of the MW3(2023) campaign.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #soap is dead

[mistyresolve]

Hi just wanted to ask you if this was your other account?

https://www.tumblr.com/rulesforwhores/157323339717/some-rules-to-be-a-better-woman

lol. no.

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 6)

Word Count - 3k

Summary - TF 141 has regrouped at their safe house, and in the past two weeks they have been of trying to figure out their next move. Doc and Ghost finally have a little talk about their night together.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn

A/N - hi

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 7

Masterlist   

The two of you were back in the garage the next morning. Ghost getting up significantly earlier than you did; leaving you to wake up alone and slightly chilled from the morning air. 

There was also a delicious ache between your legs that wasn’t normally there. 

Ghost was servicing one of the armoured vehicles to make sure it was ready to go when the squad needed to move. It’s matte tan painting normally nothing significant but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of familiarity with the vehicle. While taking stock of your medical supplies you stared at the lettering on the side of the vehicle trying to pinpoint where you had seen it before. 

“Riley,” you called out, eyes still locked on the bolded lettering on the side of the hood. He paused what he was doing to look up at you. With narrowed eyes, you said, “Why do I feel like I’ve read about this ATV before?” You recalled reading about a vehicle being swiped from a convoy a few months ago in one of the weekly newsletters the military put out. 

“Uhh,” you could’ve sworn there was a slight blush underneath that mask, “Yeah, we stole it. Wasn’t our intent at first, but figured it would be a waste of an opportunity if we returned it.”  

You made your way to the stool beside him, “‘We’ as in?”

“Soap and I…” he thought for a second, searching for the right word, “commandeered it on our way into an active combat zone. In the report, we said it was a hostile.” he shrugged. Everything here was stolen, sure, but it was mostly little things like rations and ammo; which he had mentioned took forever to compile. The other vehicle was just a modified truck. This was an Oshkosh MPAP; equipped with a turret, and bulletproof windows, and was worth a million dollars.

And these goons just took it.   

Despite his seemingly nonchalance demeanour, there was clear pride in the set of his shoulders. You also knew he and Soap chuckled about it on their way here to stash it.   

“What did Price have to say about it?” you inspected the manual for the ATV to see all it came with. There was a hesitance from him and you lifted a brow at him, “What will Price have to say about it?” you reworded the question, getting the sense that Price doesn’t know. 

“I doubt he’ll even notice,” Simon set back to work, reaching for something and tightening it with a wrench. 

The rest of the squad arrived later in the morning and Price undoubtedly noticed. In fact, he pointed right at it, eyebrows raised but didn’t say a word. 

Soap pretended to be just as shocked, “How did this get in here?” 

Ghost did a good job of redirecting everyone’s attention, “We’ve got almost a week's worth of food reserves.”

Gaz swung his gear over his shoulder heading towards the makeshift barracks, “You leave any hot water for us?” he asked Ghost. 

“Nope,” he shot back dryly, failing to mention there was never any hot water to begin with. He shoved a finger in Soap’s direction, “You better get in there next. I can smell you.” 

“It’s a musk,” Soap retorted, feigning offence.  

“Go stand downwind of me,” Ghost strained as he looked an ammo crate into one of the trucks.  

You couldn’t smell Soap from where you sat but you were sure every one of them smelt like a little ripe from all the traveling. They looked weary from it. 

A strange feeling of unspoken uneasiness hung overhead all of you. Everyone was purposefully avoiding the obvious fact that we didn’t have a solid plan.    

When Gaz returned from his shower, he had a strange look on his face. A mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He had pulled a a pack of cigarettes from his pocket throwing them to Soap, “You win,” he said bitterly. 

“Really?” Soap caught the pack, immediately putting one in his mouth. He turned to Ghost, “You’ve just made me a very happy man.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ghost looked genuinely confused. He glanced at you with questioning eyes, wondering if you had any insight into their exchange.

You offered him a subtle shrug.  

Price was talking quietly with Laswell outside the garage. With dark bags weighing down his eyes, accompanied by a frown, Price looked uncharacteristically tired. Knowing him, he probably didn’t get the best sleep last night. It was us against the world right now, and since he was our captain every single one of us was looking to him for direction. It was a lot of pressure for one man. But there was a good reason he was Captain. He was level-headed and experienced. This probably wasn’t the first time he found himself in this situation either. This was just another Wednesday for him. For all of them. 

Except you. 

You don’t belong on a task force like this. You weren’t even sure you were meant for the medic life anymore. Lord knew you couldn’t save anyone when it mattered. 

Your teeth sank into your lip as you pondered your life choices so far. The hair on the back of your neck began to tingle and when you looked up to see Ghost watching you from across the room. His eyes revealed nothing before he dragged his attention back to Soap.               

Price called for a meeting after everyone was a little more settled in, “We’ll need to lie low for the next few weeks. Keep our footprint to a minimum,” Price took a seat on the bench next to you, swiping a hand down his face, “Laswell said that the brasses have been keeping it tight-lipped about our situation. So either they don’t know and someone is working on this alone or they do know and don’t want it getting out,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Which one is worse? I don’t know.” 

If they do know we risk giving ourselves away by trying to make contact. This was going to be a waiting game. 

We were in this alone and the thought of the world being completely oblivious to our disappearance was frightening. The idea of your family never knowing what happened to you left just as fast as it came. 

“Until we come up with a plan?” Gaz sneered, his eyes hardening making it evident it was hardly a question. 

“How long will that take?” You asked, your knee bouncing in a clear show of anxiety. 

Laswell cleared her throat, eyes peeking over the laptop she was sitting in front of, “I’ve got a few contacts on US soil who are doing some internal investigations. I won’t be able to exchange information with them as often as I’d like but they’re good at what they do,” She assured, this usually perfect braid falling loose down her shoulder. “I trust that they’ll be able to find some leads.”

“How long with that take?” Ghost repeated your question.

Laswell huffed, “I have no idea.” 

“Let’s aim for a few weeks at the very least,” Price said, lifting a fresh unlit cigar to his mouth. 

“We’ve only got a week’s worth of food,” you exchanged a look with Ghost, who was already looking at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Before the rest of the team got here he had donned his mask, making it all the harder to gauge what exactly he was thinking. 

“Ahh,” Laswell flipped her laptop to face the rest of us. You leaned forward and squinted at the bright screen with multiple windows pulled up, “There’s a little townlet three hours from here with no military presence. We can go into town to stock up when the time arrives.”

Two weeks. Two whole weeks passed and Laswells weren’t any closer to finding out who Specter was, and everyone was getting antsy. She did, however, discover that we have all been flagged as deserters. 

Price and Gaz were out doing recon every morning, and every time they came back with the same news. Which was no news.  

You and Ghost had gone into the little town Laswell aforementioned nearly every day since that first week. You spent most of your time at one of the schools there. It was a symbiotic relationship where you were providing medical services wherever you were needed in exchange for more medical supplies. All the while Ghost went off on his own sometimes coming back with food other times with information on the movements of the military. “For your safety” he wasn’t able to tell you who exactly he was meeting with for this information. 

You were cleaning the wound of a smaller child, her dark hair and wide glassy eyes flitting to everything that moved. Considering how her wound looked a week ago she was healing well. In a few more days there will be nothing left but a pink scar. You couldn’t understand each other because of a language barrier but there was mutual respect between you two. She couldn’t have been older than 10 but her eyes showed she had seen more than her years. Her eyes would sometimes glaze over and would stare far beyond what you could see. Her mouth would loosen and she would murmur to herself. A prayer, you were later told by a woman who spoke English. It was unsettling to see someone so young so grown. 

That’s what growing up in a warzone will do to you. You chastised yourself, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Here,” you secured her bandage showing off your work to her. Her delicate hand grazed it, her face void of emotion. With a slight bow of her head, she left. You watched as she disappeared back out the school door. 

You felt someone take a seat beside you, her identity easily discerned by her scent of pepper and rosemary. “Her mother would have been so devastated to see her like this,” she spoke softly, her accent almost undetectable. She was one of the teachers at the school, and also the one who let you use her classroom as a makeshift station when she didn’t have any classes. 

She seemed like a great teacher, artwork and previous school projects lined her classroom walls. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that she was using the past tense. Your mouth opened and closed as you fought to find the right words, “She’s too young,” too young for this kind of life. Too young to be seeing death. Too young to be this broken. 

“Is anyone ever old enough?” She began helping you pack your supplies, offering you a new medical kit for today’s services, “We are having trouble getting shipments in so this is going to be the last time we’ll be able to pay you back.” 

You tilted your head at her, “What do you mean by troubles?”    

She smoothed out the wrinkles from her shirt, “They’ve put up checkpoints at every roading leading in and out of eastern borders. It is almost impossible to get transport trucks through,” Her blue eyes had grown tired in the last few days.

You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. If there is anything I can do to repay you, anything at all, let me know.”

She smiled and shook her head, “You’ve done more than enough,” she leaves you to turn her attention to a group of students coming in for her next class. 

Ghost returned to the school a few hours earlier than he usually did, his pace hurried, “Grab your stuff. We’re getting out of here,” he panted like he’d run the entire way back to the school but he was already moving to pack your supplies back into your pack. 

You looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together, “What’s wrong?” 

“A convoy was sighted three hundred kilometres to the east,” he didn’t wait for your reply before he slung ur pack over his shoulder and strode for the door, “And they aren’t insurgents.” 

Which means they’re American. And they couldn’t know we were here. They would take us all back in, and the last thing we wanted was to be getting into gunfights with our own. 

Ghost opened your door for you, “Get in.” 

You gave him a side glance before stepping up into the truck and letting him slam it shut behind you. Apart from the sound of the rocky road underneath the wheels and the whir of the engine the ride back was silent. You watched out your window, turning thoughts over in your head, debating whether the conversation you’ve been wanting to have with him but never the time, was worth it. 

Since that first night, nothing more has happened between you too. There hasn’t been the time for a conversation about it. Let alone actual sex. Still, a conversation needed to be had at some point. You wanted to know what he was thinking. He was always difficult to read and never shared his thoughts and feelings with anyone.  

“What’s on your mind?” Ghost spoke first, sensing your hesitation, his eyes flickering between you and the road. 

“A lot,” you tried laughing but it came out more like a sigh, then shrugged, “I guess mostly…about that night,” you started off.

His eyes widened before he quickly turned to face the road again, “Go on.” 

“We haven’t discussed it, or… haven’t really had the time to explore what it means. If it does mean anything. Don’t get me wrong,” you caught yourself, “There really isn’t a worse time for something like this,” it wasn’t like things had grown awkward between the two of you in the last few weeks, but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be feeling. Or how he was feeling. Doubt had crept into the corners of your mind in the last few weeks. 

Maybe it was just a distraction for him. 

Your breakfast soured in your stomach at the idea.      

The clouds overhead began to turn a sombre grey, bringing with it the threats of a storm. 

Beside you, he’d grown impossibly still. His shoulders were taut with discomfort, “If you’re going to say it was a mistake just do us both a favour and say it.” 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, “Was it–” you swallowed, “Was it a mistake for you?” 

“No,” he spoke with conviction, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Just as fast as the air left your lungs, they were filled, “Ohh,” you released a sigh, your head falling back onto the seat. 

“Once we get ourselves out of this we can talk about it all you want, but–”

“But, now isn’t a good time,” you finished for him, agreeing with the statement.  

“I don’t want you to think I used you like some sex-crazed caveman,” he shifted, the light of the day dwindling as we rolled down the road, the shadows from the trees creeping closer and closer to the truck. 

“I dont…” you started but he was already pulling the truck over to the side of the road. 

“I need you to know that the moment we get back to society that this,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and gestured between the two of you, “Isn’t going to end. I care for you but I need you to stay alive. So, I’m deciding for us to put things on hold because neither of us needs the distraction. It wasn’t a mistake. Do I wish I had waited until I was able to fuck you in a real bed? Kinda.” 

The first few drops of rain splattered onto the windshield, fat and heavy. 

He released the strap on his bulletproof vest to his chest and reached for my hand, “Feel this,” he brought my hand, dwarfed in his, to his racing heart. The heat radiated off his body, “That is what you do to me. Every time you look at me, or speak, or enter a room. I feel like I  can’t breathe around you. I’m terrified of you, and the possibilities that come with you,” he squeezed your hand, and he took in a shuttering breath, “And when you look at me like that,” his voice dropped and his eyes searched yours before bringing your hand lower, where you felt his member hardening. 

Your cheeks heated and you felt your own heart quicken its pace. 

The sounds of the rain became a rhythmic beat as it began to downpour, and without the windshield wipers to wipe away the downfall it was nearly impossible to see to the outside. 

He let out a low, agonizing sound when you gave him an experimental squeeze 

His attention flicked to the clock on the dash, his eyes darkening, “If I had been a smart man I wouldn’t have told Price we were leaving early. So if we take much longer it’ll raise questions,” he pulled away from you, slowly, like it was taking every sane part of him to do so, “And I’m sure you don’t want that.” 

You shook your head. You did not want to talk with Price about your extracurriculars. 

He took one last look at you, “Fuck sake,” he lifted the bottom half of his mask and pulled your lips to his. It was a chaste, desperate, open-mouth kiss. One where his hands dipped your head back to gain better access. His thumbs cradled your jaw, his fingers curling in your hair. 

It was just like the last time you kissed him. He was all fire and heat. He was explosive. 

When he finally pulled back, his lips were wet and rosy, his eyes half-lidded, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere?” he said lowly. 

You couldn’t help the sheepish smile, “I’m here.”  

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae  

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #cod ghost

[mistyresolve]

some times i like going back and rereading my old posts bc i have a shit memory and it's like a little treat

[mistyresolve]

| Rolling Credits - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 1.2k

Summary - Just a movie night turn into a hot night

Tags/Warnings - MDNI, explicit language and content, soft sex, fingering, switch -> soft dom, P in V , he whimpers

A/N - I'm going to have a lot more time on my hands again so maybe ill get back into regular posts.

Masterlist 

The night started off with you and Simon watching a movie, an older movie that you’ve rewatched more times than you’d care to admit. It took you a whole week of convincing to get him to sit down and watch it with you. It was about three-quarters into the movie when you looked over to see he was knocked out. He attempted to hide himself from your view with a pillow so you wouldn’t catch him slacking on you. 

Slowly, you crawled towards him and with your knees on either side of his hips, leaned over him and flicked on the lamp. With the sudden change in light, his eyes popped open. His glossy, groggy eyes finding yours, ��Wha,”

“You were asleep,” you tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing. 

His large hands came to wrap around your hips, the heat from him warming your skin, “No, I wasn’t. I was just resting my eyes,” his thumbs made slow circles, slipping them underneath the fabric of your shirt.

“You were snoring,” you teased, even though he wasn’t.

He flashed a knowing smile, “No I wasn’t. I was as quiet as a mouse.”

You hummed, shifting lower down his body, You’ve never been one to be quiet,” you turned down the sound of the movie. You rested your hands on his bare chest and dug your nails into the hard muscles underneath. 

He hissed at the sensation, his pupils blowing.

“See?” you rolled your hips down on him, eliciting more low strained sounds from him. 

His fingers curled into your skin, holding you closer to him. He nodded, his eyes shutting and his mouth opening ever so slightly to let out a sigh. He moved his hips in tandem with yours. There was a light blush dusting his cheeks, most likey overtly aware of the sounds coming out of him. He was tired and didn’t have the resolve to try and hold anything back. You reached up and placed a hand around his throat, your fingers finding his pulse. 

His heart was thrashing against his heated skin.

“Shit,” he breathed, his brows knitting together, “Just like that, baby,” his hands guided you and his head fell back into armrest, “You feel so good.” 

Underneath you, you could feel his hard cock brushing up against your clit, and the whimper that slipped from your throat was so lewd. 

“You had a long day at work?” you asked. 

He nodded, but you had a feeling if you told him the sky was red he’d agree with you right now. 

“Want me to take care of you?” you pressed a kiss to his jaw, to his neck, and to his chest. You felt him nod again, “Use your words.” 

It wasn’t often he let you take the lead, and it was even more rare for him to let you speak to him like this. This was a real treat. His dark eyes flashed you a warning looking, “Yes.” 

A hand reached between you two and dipped under the elastic waistband of his pants. He was large and heavy in your hand and the moment you touched him his entire body stiffened. You dragged your thumb along the slit of his tip, precum already leaking from it. 

Oh. Oh, he was about to be a mess. 

You licked up the exspance of his chest, dragging your teeth and leaving goosebumps behind. At some point his hands had dropped to your thighs, his fingernails leaving little crescents behind. 

You stroked him, so very slowly. Setting a leisurely pace, tugging moans out of him like threads, “I love making you sound like this,” you pressed your mouth to his only to pull away when he tried kissing you back. When he attempted to chase after you you pushed your free hand into his hair to hold him back. 

“You’re getting real bold,” you quipped at you but made no move to take over. 

You kept up with your agonizingly slow pace and he began to squirm against you. His breaths coming in faster. 

“So close already?” you taunted. 

That was it. You were done. It was his turn now.

With an annoyed growl, he flips you guys. He was pushing up your shirt and tugging your underwear to the side. He dragged a finger up your slick heat, coating his fingers before dipping inside your cunt. You immediately gripped around him, whispering. 

“Open,” he ordered with his usual no-nonsense tone. 

As soon as you opened your mouth the same fingers that were just inside you were shoved inside your mouth. Far enough that you gagged around them. 

“Busy that filthy mouth of yours, huh?” he tsked. Then he was sliding his cock between your folds, getting himself ready for you. He rocked his hips and the both of you groaned in unison. You felt the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten “Good?”

This time it was your turn to nod. 

“Good,” he said again. He watched and slowly guided himself into you, “Shh shh” he hushed you when you started moaning against his fingers, which he had started thrusting into your mouth in time with his hips. Drool dripped down the side of your mouth bc you were imagining they were his hard, thick member instead. 

He moved just as unhurried as you were. He loved the way you writhed under him and chased something only he could give you. 

You could feel him twitch inside you, feel his struggle to keep his composure. 

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” he brought his finger out of your mouth to bring them to his before rubbing circles into your clit. 

“Ohmygod,” you rushed, your finger marking his arm with harsh red lines. You clung to him, arching your back into him in search of just the right angle. 

Still, he was moving so goddamn slow. Too fucking slow. 

You felt the knot tighten to a nearly uncomfortable sensation. 

You reached up, cupping his face and held eye contact with him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he cooed.   

“Move faster,” you gasped, frustration building. 

“You’ll have exactly what I give you,” the borderline sneer he gave you assured you that he would not be going any faster. 

Sweat coated both your bodies in a light sheen, but there was nothing better than the feel of his bare skin against yours.    

That ever-burning heat between ur legs slipped and your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. Finger gripped at his hair as he leaned down to suck at the supple skin of your neck. You gripped at him, feeling as he twitched inside you. 

He quickly followed, his breath hot against you. He...whimpered against you. 

“Fuck sake,” he groaned, half in embarrassment. 

“Oh, I like that,” you giggle, scratching at his head. 

This time when you looked back at the tv screen, the ending credits were rolling, “You missed the movie,” Simon quipped, pulling away from you to get a better look at his handiwork.

Masterlist

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #simon riley smut #ghost smut

[mistyresolve]

| Getting Nowhere - Keegan Russ X Reader

Word Count - 1.1k

Summary - You are trying to hone in on your interrogation skills but Keegan Russ refuses to take it seriously. That is until you decide to make it all too real.

Tags/Warnings - Fake interrogation, flirting, Implied sexual content, slightly spicy, dominate/sub relationship???

A/N - Oh, to get a chance to put handcuffs on this man :(

Masterlist  ❤︎  

You leaned back in your chair, trying to conceal your smile from him, “Is this how things are going to go?” You ask, giving Keegan a faux annoyed look. 

His eyes twinkled and you were sure there was one of his sly smiles underneath his mask. He shrugged a shoulder, the chains on his handcuffs rattling against the table. The singular light hanging above you hummed, the sound adding to the ambiance of the fake interrogation. 

“You don’t want to talk to me? Do you want me to ask someone else to come and question you?” you asked, sitting forward in your chair and slowly standing up, “I can’t promise they’ll be as nice as me though.” 

“Oh, I could talk to you all night,” he cooed, laying his charm on thick. He was still seated and had to crane his neck to look up at you. Very seldom was he the one looking up at someone, but he had no issues with it when it was you. He lifted the handcuffs, tugging at them when the chain connected to the table stopped him from going anywhere, “Usually, I’m not the one wearing the cuffs,” he admitted, “I’m not used to it.” 

You could look at his statement one of two ways. The first being the fact that he was usually the one interrogating. The second being how a few weeks ago he had your hands handcuffed above your head in his bed. 

You kicked his shin underneath the table. You were alone in the room but there were still people listening on the other side of the glass. Evaluating you, you might add. When you walked into this room an hour ago you had to force down the annoyed groan at the sight of him. Your squad mates must have thought it was so funny to have Keegan as your hostage for interrogation training. 

You took a quick note on the computer in front of you, “Chatterbox,” you said aloud as you typed it in.    

“Never been called that before,” he leaned back into his seat, his legs splaying out to accommodate his large frame. 

“Hard to believe,” you quipped as you settled him with a glare, “Now, will you cooperate?” 

“What do I get out of it?” his head cocks to the side, his voice suddenly serious.

“Well, what do you want? I’m sure if it’s reasonable we’ll be able to give it to you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, warning in your eyes for him to behave himself. 

He clicked his tongue, “Nothing I want from them,” his eyes raked down your front, and his voice dropped so low that there was no possibility your spectators would hear him, “You on the other hand.” 

You were so damn lucky this was a mock test. Mostly because you knew there was no way you were getting this man to talk, “You’re going to get me in trouble,” you hissed across the table at him.

His bright eyes widened for a split second before he rolled them, “Doesn’t sound like that’s a ‘me’ problem.”  

Two could play this game, “I can make it one.” 

Confusion flashed across his eyes, and you could practically see the gears in his head turning as he tried to decipher your words. He came to his conclusion when you unzipped the top portion of your black tactical shirt, exposing enough skin that he could see the marks he placed there just last night. You watched as his pupils dilated at the sight of his claim on you. 

“I’m quite sure that there are things that I have and that you want” you declared, already knowing the answer. 

He remained silent, his attention wholly on you. His chest rose and fell slowly, “This isn’t going to work,” he deadpanned, all his bravado and taunting dissipating. 

“Do you know why it’s common for somebody to blindfold their captives?” you press on, revelling in this power dynamic, “Because it disorientates them. Forces their brain to make up for its loss of sight with other senses. Like sounds and touch-” you froze at the look in his eyes. 

He liked being in control, especially when it came to you. He liked it when he had you begging on your knees for him, and when you pleaded for him with teary eyes. He wasn’t sure he liked it when it was you who had a leash on him like this. 

And the look in his eyes right now told you that the moment you got out of here and somewhere decently more private he was going to make sure you still knew he was the one calling the shots. 

There was a moment of silence before he said, “Cargo is headed to the east port with a twenty-car caravan.” 

Your mouth fell open. You looked to the one-sided window and waited for a voice to come over the intercom. 

“Uhh, this completes today’s training,” they said, confirming that that was the correct pre-established phrase you were meaning to get out of him. You turned back to Keegan, your blood pressure rising. 

How dare he fuck with your training to prove a point. 

You stood up from your chair with so much force that it clanked to the ground behind you. You didn’t bother helping him with the handcuffs, instead, you left him there for someone else to let free for two reasons. 

The first being that he was going to hunt you down for the rest of the day to put you back in your place. And the second is because you were legitimately upset with him for messing with your training. 

You decided to take a shortcut through one of the back hallways. You were just about to turn around when you heard quick footsteps behind you but you were already being pushed into one of the corridors leading towards the storage rooms. His hand placed a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming as his body pressed yours against the wall. He had pinned your hands behind your back. 

He was at your back so you couldn’t see who it was, but that didn’t matter, you knew 

who it was just from how his body felt against yours. 

“Since when did you get to bold?” he hissed into your ear with enough chill that you shivered. He kicked apart your legs and pressed a knee up between your legs to make sure you didn’t try and close them. 

You pulled your mouth out from his hand and seethed “You made it so obvious you’re in my bed.” 

His knee pushed up between your legs, “Don’t get it twisted, Sweetheart,” he moved his hand to entangle it into your hair, “You’re the one in my bed.”   

#cod fanfic #ghost x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ cod #keegan russ x you #keegan russ headcanons #keegan p russ

[mistyresolve]

| This Isn't Normal - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader

Word Count - 560

Summary - Simon Riley believed himself to have moved past the anger issues. He never thought he'd have an outburst again, least of all have it directed towards you.

Tags/Warnings - Trigger Warning! Abuse, untreated anger issues, yelling, established relationships (ending of said relationship), angst, disassociation.

A/N - As some may know Simon canonically had anger management issues and I'd like to think my baby girl version of him would NEVER act like the Simon in this one shot. I would also everyone to know that this type of relationship is not healthy and if you find yourself in a similar situation please seek help. Everyone deserves love and respect.

Masterlist  ❤︎   

It was nights like these where Simon truly wished he was anyone else, where he could step out of his own skin and turn away from himself. The nights that were made silent by his shouts and outcries of anger. He hated the putrid rage that seeped from his pores, how his fury rushed through his veins like fire. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t control himself. His mouth had grown a mind of its own and words had left his lips before they were a fully formed thought. 

At some point, he’d stopped seeing. His vision of blur of colours and shapes. His perception of his surroundings was made skewed by the overwhelming disgust toward himself. He couldn’t remember what even started this fight. 

He was sure whatever it was wasn’t deserving of this reaction. 

But he couldn’t stop. 

You had long since stopped responding. Your eyes glazed over as you stared off into the distance, your mind undoubtedly protecting itself from the onslaught of his anger. You didn’t even try to defend yourself. 

He would never understand why you didn’t just get up and walk away from him. He didn’t understand why you didn’t lock the bedroom door behind you and call the cops on him. 

He has never and would never hit you. He never got violent like that. Never punched walls or threw glasses but he yelled. He spewed hatred like it was a sport when he was triggered. 

He thought he was doing better. It had been nearly a year since his last outburst. Or his first outburst with you, depending on how you wanted to look at it. He had promised you it would never happen again.      

A memory flashed before his eyes and he froze, his eyes widening his shock. His father's face, red from yelling at him and his mother, seared into him. The air was sucked out of his lungs and his mouth snapped shut. 

The silence in the room was deafening, and his ears rang from it. He backed away from you, biting hard into his fisted hand. 

Finally, your eyes shifted to his, emotionless, and his heart shattered. What was he doing to you? He was once again sick with himself. 

You took the pause in his attack as your time to leave. You stood from the couch and walked out of the living room. 

Several hours later he found you on the back balcony, leaning on the banister with a very full glass beside you. 

He opened the door to the balcony, stepped outside and leaned on the banister a few feet beside you.   

“I think you should leave me,” He murmured into the cold air, his breath curling in front of him, “I know,” he corrected himself, “I know you should leave me.” 

You turned to face him, your cheeks blushed from the cool air. Your eyes searched his face, before looking back out the skyline. You remained silent for a while before saying, “You need to get help…This isn’t normal.”  

He nodded, “Yeah. I do,” he had gone to therapy and gotten treatment for his anger before, and had thought he’d moved past this. 

“I think you should find a place to stay for the night. Maybe even the week,” you took a sip of your wine. 

He bowed his head between his arms, his chest tightening, “I do too.” 

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #task force 141 #ghost x reader

[mistyresolve]

Not sure if you’re doing requests still.

If want to ignore this, feel free.

How I was wondering how would Ghost and Gaz react if their s/o had sweet goofy Labrador that fellow them around and flop onto their laps, whenever they sat down?

Something super cute?

Word Count - 1.7k

Tags/Warnings - Fluff, puppiess

A/N - I've recently been so unbelievably obsessed with livestock guardian dog....I'm well aware that a lab is not the right breed but still

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

Ghost 

You had come to visit the base on your day off. And just like every other time you did so, you brought your dog, Archie, with you. She was a 2-year-old energetic, long-haired golden lab, who had yet to grow out of her puppy faze. Always tripping over her still-too-big feet and chewing on anything and everything.

Archie was well known around the base, and the boys adored her. She got all the attention a dog could want. And more.

Archie also had an unpredictable favourite, whom she always ran to first, and everyone for when he appeared. Including you. You always had a hard time getting her back in the car when it was time to leave when Ghost was around. On more than one occasion you have had to ask him to go hide somewhere so she would listen to you.

It was so bizarre because aside from the occasional pat on the side, he basically ignored her. Ghost never seemed to mind though. He never once complained about being “inconvenienced” or annoyed by Archie following him around. Frankly, you had your suspicions that he enjoyed the dog's company. 

As soon as you let Archie out of the back seat she booked it for the hanger, leaving you in her dust. You didn’t feel the need to recall her and already knew the rest of the team would be there—sitting around one of the Humvees, pretending to be working on it. The oversized garage doors were pushed open, and when she disappeared through them and into the building you could hear the guys greeting her.

“Hello, pretty girl!” you didn’t need to see him to know it was MacTavish and him putting on the iconic puppy voice, “Who’s a good girl?” he said, knowing damn well the moment Ghost showed up Archie would forget he ever existed. 

Then Price’s voice, “Archie,” followed by playful barking. They were definitely riling her up, “Where’s your mom, huh?” 

Before you rounded the corner you knew she was running in a circle, greeting each and every one of them, expecting a pat and scratch. When she saw you enter after her, she barked once in acknowledgment, before continuing her rounds. 

You took a seat in the circle, jumping into the conversation they were having before they arrived. Much to your surprise, they were significantly dirty; so they were actually working on the Humvee before this. 

Archie disappeared further into the hanger, doing a quick perimeter check. Obviously, she was looking for a certain someone. When she came back, too soon, it meant that Ghost wasn’t around, so she was making do with her second favourite, Soap. She was on her back, exposing her belly for rubs. To which Soap obliged, as it was his end goal to overthrow Ghost. 

You looked around, “Where is Ghost?” It was strange that he wasn’t here. It was near the end of the day on a Friday. Usually, they all met up for the last few hours to bullshit before heading out for drinks. 

At the sound of his name, Archie perked up, looking to you for confirmation. When she realized he still wasn’t here she turned her attention back to Soap. Whom frowned at you, “You’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“He and Gaz took twenty-two out for a test drive,” Price checked his watch and then rocked back in his seat with a frown, “Should have been back by now though.”

22 was the other Humvee that was normally parked in the hangar, a “22” stencilled onto the side of the hood. 22 was a “Project of Passion”, given to the 141 as a joke a year ago. The damn thing didn’t start when we first got it. But the guys saw it as an offence and vowed to get it back on the road. 

His ears must have been burning because shortly after you asked, you heard the rumble of the vehicle approaching. It pulled into the open space before someone killed the engine, and the doors slammed shut.

“Fucking piece of shit.” 

That was definitely Ghost. 

Archie sprung up from her spot at Soap's feet, meeting up with Ghost as he emerged around the back of the Humvee. He was using a rag to wipe something off his hands angrily when his entire demeanour changed,  “Hey, Archie-girl,” he dropped to one knee, getting down to her level to give her a good scratch behind the ear. She was wagging her tail so hard that her entire body swayed with it. Her mouth was open as she panted in excitement. 

Soap leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, sulking. 

Ghost stood back up. That would be all the attention he would give Archie and it was like he gave her the moon, “Engine nearly blew up,” at some point, he had taken off his jacket, and was wearing just a green t-shirt. His arms were stained black from car oil. He walked back to 22 and this time everyone followed after him, curious as to what the issue was. 

The jacket hanging over the open window was all the evidence you needed to know why he had taken it off. The black stains on his arms mirrored those on his jacket. Only way worse. 

Both you and Soap had to avoid eye contact with each other or you’d probably laugh right in Ghost’s face. 

The hood was propped up already and Gaz was bracing his weight on it as he leaned forward, looking exasperated. 

You jumped up onto the work table to watch them contemplate what to do next. Soap asked a question and both Ghost, and Gaz groaned. Ghost invited Soap to take a look underneath the vehicle, the two of them sliding beneath it so only their bottom halves were visible. 

Archie joined them. 

Immediately. And enthusiastically.

She crouched low and inched herself until she was right next to Ghost. She didn’t interrupt him as he explained what he was thinking was wrong to Soap. When they came back out Archie again followed them. 

After an hour of back and forth, they decided to give it up for the day. Sitting back around in a circle, Archie had squeezed herself between Ghost’s feet and the chair, her head resting on his shoe. She was alert and watching everyone around her, but she was calm. 

You silently noticed how Ghost kept his foot extra still, careful not to disturb the pup. 

Admittedly, the sight of him being so attentive to her presence did something to you. There was a little bit of history between you and Ghost, but both of you agreed that getting attached to each other in this line of work could be dangerous. Torturous, even. Although you no longer actively seek him out, you still have feelings for him. 

Archie must have sensed all that and made a dog-equivalent bond with him. 

You shared that same peace and excitement when around him.  

Gaz

It was the next day and Gaz was given the day off. Why? Because he requested it? Why? Because it was Yogi’s birthday. 

Gaz had taken Yogi to get a cut and groom, a pup cup, and then let him run wild in the pet store. When they came home at the end of the day, Yogi was wearing a little blue bandana from the groomers and Gaz was carrying a bag full of toys and chewies.

“Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed upon seeing the Yogi, crouching to his level to get a better look at him, “Aren’t you the most handsome boy.”

When it was time for dinner, Gaz had given Yogi his own “plate”. He went so far as to garnish it with a milk bone.  

Now it was 9 p.m. and you and Gaz sat on either side of the couch. His legs propped up on the ottoman, his ankles crossed. An arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand resting atop your dog, mindlessly petting him. You played with the end of his tail. If only because that was all you could reach without having to splay across the sofa. 

You were halfway through your movie when you had an epiphany.  

“He’s hardly my dog anymore,” you frown, waving a hand at the scene in front of you. 

Gaz lazily turned his head over to you, “Hmm?”, Then he followed your gaze to the dog on his lap, “Oh. He hasn’t been your dog for a while,” he said matter-of-factly and gave your senior dog a pat on the shoulder to add emphasis. 

Yogi’s tail begins to wag, beating you in the leg with it. It was like adding salt to a wound. You raised Yogi from when he was 8 weeks old. He was now 10 and his brown fur had long since turned grey around his face. 

He’s known Gaz for all of 3 years.

They must have made a little boy pact at some point during those three years because there was no clear day or moment Yogi stole his heart back from you and gave it to Gaz…

“Don’t say that,” you glared over at him, “he’s my baby.” 

Gaz smiled, “Nah. He’s a big boy,” he moved to scratch under his jaw, right where he liked it most, “Yogi’s a man. A man-dog.” 

…That or Gaz was ploying him with threats when you weren’t around. 

Down the hall, the washing machine beeped. Since it was Wednesday, it was Gaz’s turn to do laundry. Most of it being his clothes and uniforms. He tapped on Yogi, signalling for him to get up. Yogi was slow moving but he jumped from the couch, stretching out with a yawn. 

You paused the movie so Gaz wouldn’t miss any while he was switching laundry, “Yogi…” you said in the saddest, most pathetic voice you could muster when the old dog started after your boyfriend; all too willing to abandon you on the couch. He looked back at you and began to make his way back to you. Without a doubt, it was out of obligation and not want. 

“Yogi,” his name was echoed down the hall. 

That was it took and the dog carried on down the hall. 

“You Judas,” you mumbled to him, knowing he was half deaf. 

And a dog.

Masterlist

A/N - Sorry Gaz's part is so short...I've never really written the guy before :/

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz garrick

[mistyresolve]

Do you write for soap?

Good question! I've been considering expanding my fics out to more characters, some even outside of the COD fandom. There are some characters I don't think I'll ever be able to write certain types of fics for like Graves or Price. Simply because I can't stand Grave's I won't ever write anything for him. And I see Price as a father figure so nothing explicit for him.

As for Soap!! I've never really written or read anything about Soap. But I've had him as a side character in some of my fics and he's also a badass character in the campaign, so I think I'll be able to write his character with a little more practice.

If you want to give me a request or some prompts for Soap I think that would be so much fun 🤍🤍

#soap mactavish

[mistyresolve]

literally obsessed w your writing. it’s so good, thank you 🙏

Thank youuu!

#rahhhh #Im literally obsessed w Ghost

[mistyresolve]

| Hand to Hand - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 2.5k

Summary - After finally getting a moment alone with Ghost, those hours of waiting for him were worth it.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ Smut, Dirty talk, Heavy petting, Teasing, Grinding, Fingering, Praise

A/N - And last but finally not least.

Takedown ❤︎ Close Quarters

You were particularly snappy at everyone for the rest of the day, the frustrations that Ghost wound tightly inside you were making you irritable, snarling at everyone who looked at you the wrong way. 

It was also nearly impossible to concentrate. Every road leads to Rome and every thought leads to Ghost railing you in a broom closet. You could still feel his calloused hands rove across your sensitive skin, and the heat of his body warming your back. The sound of his voice. Low and steady. 

You eyed the clock, tapping your nails on your desk and chewing on the inside of your cheek. You had to fight every nerve in your body to keep from running to the training center as soon as the clock struck 10:00.  

How quickly this man reduced you to desperation was frightening. 

The moment you walked into the room, you could feel his eyes burn into you. He was glowering in the corner of the room with his usual, “Do not approach me”, mood. Until you entered. His head tracked you as you made your way to the benches. You stopped along the way to speak with one of the privates. 

Even with your back turned to him, like a predator with its prey, you could feel Ghosts' attention lock onto you. It made your toes curl in your boots, and heat pool at the apex of your thighs. From across the room, you could feel his hackles rise; his head tilting to the side in question. Surely, you weren’t testing him right now. Surely, you weren’t that dumb. 

You gave the private a sweet smile as he spoke to you; one that said “Take me out to dinner”.  If he was going to tease, you were going to do it right back. 

Ghost had enough. That was all he needed to see. 

“Everyone get in line.”       

Conversation came to an abrupt halt. You glared over your shoulder at Ghost and the glint in his dark eyes told you all you needed to know. He would be getting you back for that later. 

You stepped onto the mat with him, waiting for his introduction of what today’s training would consist of. Today was disarming and subduing. You situated yourself beside him, waiting for his command. 

He was doing a good job and not acting any differently in front of everyone. There were now awkward stolen glances, no hidden innuendos in his teaching. But his professionalism and self-control only turned you on more. 

His grip on you during his demonstrations is gentle, his thumb slipping underneath your sleeve to trace little shapes onto your wrist. It was subtle and almost innocent but it still made your heart race. It still made you want him to cancel today's training, and take you into an empty room to devour you. 

Hell, you’d let him fuck you right here…once everyone else, of course. 

You were in a haze the entire class. Followed commands and orders as well as you would any other day, but your attention was elsewhere. He without a doubt noticed your lack of cognition but never commented on it.         

He was so calm and collected that you wondered if you had dreamt of your interaction this morning. 

On most days, he would stay behind a few minutes after class to watch as the soldiers tried out their newly learned techniques. Sometimes giving them pointers and direction on their form. 

Not today though. He had plans. 

With you.   

At the end of the class, he leaned down next to your ear, “My office. Go. Now.” 

He didn’t follow you out the door but gave you a nod when you turned to give him one last look. He lagged behind you and you didn’t see him again until you were almost to his office.

He came up behind you, silently. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he steered you to one of the third doors on the left. The room was unlocked and the lights were off, the blinds closed. 

Spotless. It was so spotless that you wondered if he’d actually ever used this space.                      

He pulled you into his office, locking to door behind him. You didn’t have time to turn around before you felt his arms wrap his arms around your torso, his chest hard against your back. 

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, head lolling into his shoulder. Calling him by his rank was a force of habit and his proximity was making it difficult to think. The last time you two were in a similar position was when he stood you in front of the mirror in the gym. When you were exposed and desperate. 

You felt his returning groan rumble against your back, there was also the hint of a laugh in there. It was like you were on fire; like he was pouring molten lust directly into your veins. A hand gripped at my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him, “Say that again.”

I twisted my head towards him, eyes wide, “Lieutenant?” I questioned, brows furrowing. Until I saw his expression, partially concealed by his mask, but his eyes gave enough away. He liked having you in this position with you call him that. He liked control. Dominance.       

He tucked you further into him, a stray hand trailing down the length of your body. It was like deja vu when his hands squeezed at your thigh, forcing your legs apart. His voice is low and husky, filled with authority and longing, “Say it again.” 

My chest heaved for air; air that was too thick with anticipation, “Anything for you, Lieutenant,” You turn pliable in his hands, rocking back into him.  His response to the title presses against the curve of your back. Hard and long. 

His fingers dig into your flesh, possessiveness evident in his touch. The both of you feel the tension building between you. Feel it grow and take form. He practically growls when he feels your body press against his, like throwing fuel into a fire, “That’s it…you know just how to please me, don’t you?” His hard cock pressed into you, aching to be inside of you. But he wouldn’t until he knew you were good and ready for him. Until he knew you deserved him. 

“Mhm,” You nod my head and bite your lip when his fingers curl to your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, your body eager for his touch. He inches closer, teasingly grazing against my clothes sex, eliciting a shudder from you, “Stop with the teasing,” you hiss through gritted teeth, as you try and meet his hand. Only for him to pull away, going back to gripping at your hips. 

He loved your sounds of frustration, and a hidden predatory smile played on his lips, “Do you trust me?” he asked. You almost cried out and tried rubbing your thighs together, but he stopped you, spreading your legs apart once more with a foot. His free hand wrapped around your neck, forcing your attention back into him. His cheek was pressed against yours, “Answer me or I’m going to leave you here. Alone and hopeless,” his voice was laced with dominance and solemnity. 

“Yes!” you blurted out, “Yes, I trust you, Ghost.”

“Lieutenant,” he corrected, “Keep your eyes forward.”

Your eyes snapped to in front of you immediately. With the state you were in right now, you’d jump from a roof he told you to. You started to protest when he removed his hands from you but stopped when you felt soft, warm lips on your neck.    

“Oh,” you choked, the sensation of his mouth on you was divine. He planted teasing kisses up your sensitive skin, sucking and nipping at you, leaving behind marks. A reminder of his possession. You reached a hand to his face, fingers dancing up his throat until you found his jaw. He moved away from your neck to press a kiss into your palm, before returning. You dared your hands to explore his face further, freezing when you felt soft hair. You had assumed he had merely lifted the mask to expose his mouth but he had removed it entirely. 

Your chest tightened. He had that much faith that you wouldn’t try and look. He trusted that you wouldn’t jeopardize his anonymity; and your safety. 

Your eyes fluttered shut so you could turn your face to him, finding his mouth with yours. 

His fingers traced down your sides back to your core. This time he didn’t hold back and pressed them into your center. You broke the kiss to moan. Finally. Finally, he was indulging you. Finally, he was allowing you some release. He made slow, languid circles around your clit.

Your clothes remained an annoying barrier, but he quickly remedies that by dipping his hand down the front of your pants. You tried rolling your hips down into his palm but he halted, “Patience, love,” you could feel his smile against your skin, hear how his voice dripped with amusement, “I enjoy watching you squirm and begging for my touch,” his breath ghosted over your ear, “and I’ll give you what you want…” he dragged a long finger up your center, “but I’ll do it on my terms. Got it?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” I wrapped a hand around his wrist, a silent request for him not to leave wanting like he did before. Your other hand reaches behind to splay your fingers over his erection, and he instinctually rocks into it.     

A primal growl rumbled deep inside him at those words, at your touch, “That’s my good girl,” he mumbles, losing his own mind momentarily. He revels in your pathetic, desperate motions as you try and stop yourself from grinding against his hand. He slips past your folds, spreading your slick arousal around your swollen clit. Then two thick, long digits delve into your wetness, warm and inviting. You blow a breath as you adjust to the intrusion. He curls them, seeking out the sweet spot he knows will unravel you. 

His tone is one of satisfaction, “You’re so wet and eager for me. I’m going to make you come undone, over and over again.” 

You practically melt in his arms at the remarks. He was going to be the end of you, you were sure of it. He was going to ruin you for everyone who was to come after him. He had hardly touched you and you could already feel a knot coil at the apex of your thighs.   

“Make me yours?” you asked, slick with innocence.

You could almost hear his pupils dilate, “Yes,” he snarls, “Mine. Completely and utterly mine,” with a possessive thrust of his fingers, “Your body, your pleasure, everything belongs to me,” he adds a thumb to circle your clit to intensify the stimulation. With your hand still rubbing at his cock and the feeling of you greedily clenching around his fingers, sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help the deep guttural groan, his control slipping.

He’s nearly feral with possessiveness and it makes you feel…pretty. Irreplaceable. Desirable. You turn stupid when his head falls forward to say, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” his voice was a seductive rasp. One that was so different and so similar to his usually harsh tone. You never thought you’d live to see the day Ghost like this; Where his main goal was to make you feel good. The hand around your throat moved to your face, forcing your mouth back into him. He devoured you like he was hungry for your whimpers. Like he was being starved of them. 

He keeps up with the steady pace, his rhythm never faltering. He thrusted in deep, hitting that sweet spot every time. The sounds of your moans and gasps was music to his ears and he drove you closer to the edge. 

You forgot yourself, your name. Your body stiffened and your hands wrapped around his length. Faintly you could hear him groan, “Easy…let me do all the work,” The surge of pleasure shoots through him but he quickly intercepts your motions, guiding your hand away, “Not yet. I want to make you come first. Let me take care of you,” Lord, knew he wasn’t going to last if he let you continue. He curls his fingers deliciously and he continues his assault on your core. 

You can feel the tension building within you. He could feel your body trembling. 

“Give it to me,” he provoked. 

You were standing on the tips of your toes as your climax crashed into you. Fast and hard. Something snapped inside of you and you screamed his name. His hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans. You can feel your arousal gush out of you, feel it collect in his palm. 

Words become foreign to you but you can tell he’s praising you. He rose the high with you, following the lead of your body, prolonging it. He wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from you. 

The only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the floor is the thigh he so graciously shoved between your legs and the grip he has on my waist. The feeling of his thigh against your still-spasming sex was overstimulating and your body convulsed at the friction. You whimpered when you saw him bring his soaked fingers toward his mouth and suck, and heard the quiet pop when he sucked and licked off your essence, savouring the taste of your desire. 

Mostly because he couldn’t find the will in him to wait until he was able to eat you out to taste you.   

It took you several moments for you to float back down to your body. And for your breathing to return to normal. 

Then guilt and realization hit you. He didn’t come. He was so focused on you that he’d forgotten about his own release. I pulled away from him, “You didnt—”

He cut you off with an open-mouth kiss his tongue tangling with yours. He claimed every inch of your mouth. You could taste yourself on him. Mixed with the pure intensity was intoxicating and sent a jolt of desire to his cock. 

He pulled away, hovering just millimetres away from you, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. But right now, all I want is you. All I want is to feel you, taste you, consume you.”         

Masterlist

A/N - On a more serious note, my hometown of 22,000 has been evacuated due to wildfires, but I've decided to stay behind and help out. There are a lot of unknowns but there might come a time when aircraft can't land because of the smoke and the only highway out is currently on fire...Sooo, if I lose internet and cell service and I might go dark for a while.

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth​ ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @mymommmy​ ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @lockleywife ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums  ❤︎@bugmanor ❤︎ @urbimom ❤︎ @bountydroid ❤︎ @ushisroa ❤︎@illyanam1011 ❤︎ @saddi3 ❤︎ @k4marina ❤︎ @unoreversecowgirl

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #mw smut #cod smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #smut

[mistyresolve]

Could you do a part 2 of "Takedown" with actual smut please? it was so good 💗

| Close Quarters

Word Count - 2.2k

Summary - It's Friday, which means you'll be busy later today helping out Ghost with his training. Only, you didn't expect to see him as early as 4 am. Nor did you expect him to leave you breathless and on the verge of begging for more.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ Smut, Dirty talk, Heavy petting, slight Voyeurism, Grinding, and Edging?

A/N - I could take him...just not in a fight

Takedown

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

It was 4 a.m. by the time you got to the training room; most of the lights still turned off for the night. Leaving only the front half of the room illuminated, the back half was visible but still shadowed. Which was fine, it was the reason you came here at this hour. There was never anyone else to worry about or share equipment with. It allowed you time to think. Focus. Work through the stresses of the week without interruptions. 

That was how your days normally started. 

Unless there was someone else lurking in the shadows of the gym. Like there was today. 

A large dark form was hanging from the pull-up bars, their ankles crossed over each other. Hammering out pull-ups like they were nothing. They hadn’t noticed you come in, their attention on their reflection in the mirror to monitor their form and technique. They were wearing a hoodie, large enough to conceal what muscle might be hiding beneath it. The hood up. 

You squinted at the reflection in the mirror to try and catch a glimpse of who it might be. Only their face was half covered. 

If the male wasn’t wearing shorts you might have just shrugged it off and started on your own workout. For if it weren’t for said shorts you would have missed the familiar tattoos on his right leg. A patchwork of art that descended past his sock and disappeared under his shorts. He explained some of them to you once. Your eyes fell to one in particular. A statue of a female body. Her wings outstretched behind her and curving around his thigh. Her strength was still perceptible despite her head and arms being missing, those pieces of her departed her during sometimes of the statue's lifetime. 

A hauntingly beautiful depiction of The Winged Victory of Samothrace. 

When you asked him to explain that tattoo, Simon shrugged and stated that he “simply liked it”.  

He lowered himself back to the ground, noiseless aside from the soft tap of his shoes hitting the floor. He rested his hands on his hips, his wide shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. 

You debated slipping out of the training room before he saw you. Turned in your direction before you could make up your mind. He was reaching for the towel hanging on the bench behind his when he froze. His eyes find yours in the dark. The was no shock or surprise in his expression. 

Then you realized you could see his expression. 

He was still wearing a mask, just not the one he normally wore. This one was an altitude mask. Designed to mimic the effects of high-altitude environments and restrict airflow to the user, forcing the lungs to work harder. Commonly used for conditioning. 

You tried it once. Nearly died. 

Simon was doing a better job at handling the effects of the mask than you did, but he was still heaving for breath. 

You raised a hand to him in “hello”, offering him a small smile. 

He pulled earbuds from his ears, the sound of his music audible from where you stood. Well, there’s the reason as to why he didn’t hear you come in.  

“What are you doing up?” his voice was muffled slightly from the mask. 

You dropped your gym bag on the floor next to a bench of your own, “Same reason as you, I suppose,” you took a seat, kicking off your slides, “You sleep well?” 

He shook his head as he made his way over to you, “Didn’t sleep at all. You?” He definitely looked tired, something you could see even in the dark. His accent always gets a little thicker when he is nearing his limit. His words slurred together, a verbal representation of what his thoughts felt like. 

As he neared, you could make out more of his face. He looked younger than you had imagined. Softer, even. He still looked like a battle-hardened male, with strong edges and chiselled features. Just…less pirate-esque. 

He was handsome. From what you could see.   

You had to force yourself to look away from him. This was the most of his face you’d seen and it felt like you were seeing him naked. It felt personal.    

“Just an early bird. Did you just get here?” you toed into your shoes, leaning down to tighten the laces. You felt flurry butterflies in your stomach when his own shoes came into your line of vision. His proximity had you reminding yourself to behave. You’d had boyfriends and lovers before, but none of them made your toes curl like Simon Riley did. None of them made you dizzy with a mere look your way.   

“Got here a little while ago,” it was strange to see him outside of the usual military garb. It was stranger that it was strange. You’ve been working with the 141 for almost a year now and don’t know any more about him now than you did when you met him. You understood his personality and the complexity of him. His mannerisms have also become familiar to you, but you didn’t know very much about his civilian life. Or his life before the army.

He leaned his shoulder into the wall next to you, his arms crossed over his chest, “What are you working on?”

“Just cardio today, I’m still a little sore from you throwing me around the other day,” that and later today you’d be back to helping him with his training, “How much longer do you plan on being here?” 

“Sick of me already?” 

“No. Not at all,” you breathed out a laugh and looked up at him from your seat. His eyes were heavy as he looked down at you. You didn’t allow yourself to decipher whether it was from exhaustion or something a little more carnal. He was close enough to you that if you slid off the bench and onto your knees you’d be at just the right height to—

“I’m meeting up with Price in an hour,” his rumbling voice snapped you out of your fantasy.

You stood up from the bench, turning to face him fully. He watched your every move with fervored intent, his gaze dragging down your body, “Why? What do you need?” he drawled. 

The air in the room turned heavy as the two of you exchanged desperate, wordless pleas. This wasn’t the first time you and him found yourselves in this situation. Both of you fighting the urge to devour the other. Neither was brave enough to take the first step. 

He had an hour…

You took a step closer, close enough that if you lifted a finger you’d touch him. He stilled attention wholly on you now. With chilled fingers you lifted the hem of his sweater, running them up his still sweat-covered skin. You could feel his muscles retract at your cold touch, but he leaned into this feeling rather than pull away. He hissed and his eyes squeezed shut, his expression wanton. You dragged your nails across his chest, and one of his hands shot out to grasp yours, “What do you need?” he asked again, this time his voice dripped with honey.

…You could work with an hour. 

“You,” you breathed, the hand he left free sliding down to his waistband. You stopped before going further, head tilting to the side. You weren’t going to go any further until he said it was okay. 

He began to nod his head, “Take what—”

The doors to the training room creaked open and entered a soldier. His head was down, bobbing to whatever music was playing in his earbuds. The room was too dark for him to see you two clearly back here, but panic still exploded in your chest. You jumped back from Ghost like his skin burned you, your gazes locked onto each other. His eyes were wide. Wild with excitement and shock. You had a feeling your expression matched his. 

The soldier walked into the bathroom, blissfully unaware of the two shadows at the back of the room. Who were mere moments away from heavy petting and grinding. 

Your mood deflated, but when you turned back to Ghost, his breaths were coming in fast. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

He had been eager for you to touch him. The heavy bulge outlining his shorts was evidence enough. You feared your blush was bright enough that it was glowing. 

“Ghost,” you started but he was already reaching for you, pulling you until you were flush with him. Where you could feel his hard length for yourself, feel it press into your abdomen. He made an experimental roll of his hips, searching for any time of friction.

“How quiet can you be?” he huffed, his hands sliding from your arm to your ass, lifting you to your tippy toes so your core was closer to his. 

You stifled your moan with a hand, which should have been answer enough, “Not very.” 

Then he was moving, “Grab your stuff,” he was already moving to grab yours when his phone rang. The noise was offensive, and he swore when he took it out of his pocket. He shot you an apologetic look before answering, “Captain,” the heat in between your legs studdered and annoyance took its place. You could see his own frustrations at the situation, and at whatever Price had to say, “Sounds like a shitshow.” 

You plopped back down on the bench, defeated. Price would be whisking Ghost away now. When Ghost turned around to you one more time, you saw your opportunity. You quickly lifted the front of your shirt, flashing him. 

First, there was shock, but it was quickly followed by a cheeky grin. Not that you could see it, but you could tell it was hiding beneath that mask. He reached out a hand, his fingers dancing across your exposed skin. You shuddered underneath him as he rubbed a thumb across your hardening nipple. You bit down on your lip to keep the moan from spilling from your mouth. 

“Yeah,” he spoke into the phone, but his eyes were on you, analyzing your every action and reaction to him. You arched into him, and he immediately understood. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your hands dropped to between your legs, pressing your fingers into your weeping cunt through your pants. A wet spot already appearing. Your other hand covered his cock, using your whole hand to rub at him. 

He groaned but quickly covered it by clearing his throat, his brows knit together, “Understood,” he promptly hung up the phone. He jerked his chin at you, and ordered “Let me see.” 

You spread your legs apart, fingers still making slow circles. He grabbed at both your wrists, holding them away from both yours and his body. 

“You have no idea how bad I want you right now,” he growled.

“But you have to go,” you taunted. 

If Price called him at this time of day, it was probably urgent. Especially if they were going to meet in an hour anyway. 

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know you were right, “You’re not to touch yourself until we’re alone again.” 

He had every intention of finishing this off. He just needed to go deal with whatever Price was needing him for. And he wanted you to be desperate for it when it happened. He wanted you to be thinking about him all day. He wanted you to be a mess for him. 

“How long will that take?” you twisted your hips, bringing yourself to the edge of the seat, using it you grind yourself on. He yanked you up off the chair. He wasn’t going to allow you to have any sort of pleasure. 

“I’ll be back for the training this afternoon,” he maneuvered you both so you were standing in front of the mirror, your arms now pinned behind your back, shirt still hiked up. Your chest, fully exposed. He towered over you from behind, his presence remained domineering. You watched yourself in the mirror. The position was entirely submissive. Vulnerable. He had barely done anything and you already looked fucked out. 

He pulled your arms tighter so your back bowed, his free hand coming to cup a breast, squeezing hard, “Say it,” he ran his hand to your inner thigh, this thumb grazing your now throbbing pussy. 

“I won’t touch myself,” you were about to start begging him.  

“That’s a good girl,” he purred. 

The soldier from before walked back out of the bathroom having changed into his workout clothes. 

Ghost made no move to cover you back up. The soldier still had yet to notice you two at the back but your heart still hammered against your chest. Adrenaline flooded your bloodstream once more.  

Finally, he pulled down the front of your shirt for you before letting go of your wrists. You nearly collapsed to the floor, your knees threatening to betray you. He guided you back to the bench, “Get out of here before I change my mind and I end up being late.” 

Hand to Hand

A/N - I have every intention of making a third part to this. But I want to make this as immersive as possible so you guys are going to have to wait just like the reader 😈

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth​ ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @mymommmy​ ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @lockleywife ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums  

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #ghost smut #cod smut #mw smut #mw x reader #mw ghost