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lunarw0rks · 10 months

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Hi! I was wondering if you’d be open to writing a Ghost x Reader fic where the reader is relatively new to the 141. The team has seen her work but still doesn’t trust her fully. Ghost and her seem to have a magnetic pull to one another with both trying to avoid their attraction. One day while sparring the reader ends up straddling him with a training knife pressed to his throat. Both stare at one another, realizing. (NSFW or SFW whichever!) Feel free to change whatever or not write it if it’s not your vibe!

A/N: Ghost has a knife kink, confirmed ;) Not explicitly NSFW, but it's hinted. Part two w smut??

Summary: During a sparring session with Ghost, you end up on top of him, and he struggles to hide his amusement.

Warning(s): knives, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, sexual tension | Word Count: 1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PART TWO | ao3 ver. // have a request?

Sparring

From the minute you set foot on the base, you felt like you didn’t belong there. Based on your records, training, and skills? You were a perfect fit. Personally? Not so much.

Of course, some welcomed you, putting on their fake smiles and at least attempting to include you in things.

Captain Price, who was under obligation to be civil because he was your boss. Gaz, who was closer in age, usually followed behind the Captain’s decisions. The Scot or “Soap”, as they called him? Indifferent to you. His usual humorous demeanor would diminish the second you entered a space.

Then, there was Ghost, who perhaps had the most intimidation about him. Though he didn’t trust you, or anyone either, his distaste wasn’t as potent as the other soldiers. Sure, he could be harsh and cold when he wanted to be, but that was the way he approached conflicts.

You learned to expect it, to work around it. You didn’t have a choice. Go AWOL over some social rejection? Not in the cards for you.

—

You’re set to deploy with them, take down some figure named “Hassan”, or so the folder you read stated. To prepare, you need to get yourself physically prepared. These new operations were no joke, undoubtedly worse than months of boot camp.

You’re panting, and feel like your legs are going to crumble from their overuse. He won’t let up on you, not that quickly.

“Are you even trying, Sergeant?” Ghost heckles you, dripping in self-confidence, as he dodges your slices with ease. He always seems double the speed you are, even before you were winded and dissatisfied with your performance.

You grit your teeth in response, remaining determined that you’ll get one good jab at him. In your wild imagination, the foam knife you’re holding would somehow turn real when it slices him — cut the arrogance right out of him.

Realistically, however? Not a chance, unless you can find a way to slow him down.

“You’d be dead ten times, ‘you keep stabbing like that.” He puts his defensive arms down, allowing you to rest for a few seconds.

Or so you thought.

Suddenly, he grappled you to the foam mat beneath you, knocking the small amount of air you had left straight out. You struggled against his pin, but he was much too strong.

He squints down at you, as he maintains his solid grip. “You only have about ten seconds to win a knife fight, before you’re dead, or pinned just like this, with nowhere to go.” He motions to the predicament you’re in currently.

Your thighs were pinned against the floor with his knee, and wrists contained on each side of your head. You’re tempted to give him his victory, so he’ll leave it at your metaphorical death.

“Maybe what you need,” his eyes drill into you, as he begins his theory, “is a raise of the stakes.” He reaches into his holster and pulls out his very real knife. He holds it up, examining the way it glimmers against the fluorescents.

If he was anyone else, you probably would’ve tapped out or insisted on using the fake one. But based on the way he was caging you, he wasn’t asking. It was an order.

As if to prove the danger, he holds the blade to your cheek—not letting it cut you, but applying just enough pressure for you to understand the lesson of it.

Never let the enemy pin you, chances are you’re dead in seconds. He’d lectured you with that statement before when you sparred with him.

With his right arm occupied, there was a rapidly closing window for you to find a way out of this. You swung your arm, smacking the blade out of his fist.

You ended up straddling him and clambered for the knife. If this were his full potential, he would’ve already retrieved his knife and cut your throat. But he was allowing you to overtake him this time as if he was amused by it.

You pressed the blade to his throat, which was protected by the fabric of his balaclava. Thighs to thighs, stomach to stomach. His stare didn’t change once, remaining stoic even when held at knifepoint, with his own weapon nonetheless.

“That’ll suffice.” His voice weathered a bit, like it was hard for him to choke out something professional, given the fact that you could feel every bit of him at the moment.

You couldn’t lie, the position was questionable. But you’d proved your point.

Even though he knew there were dozens of countermoves he could use, and basically decimate you in the process, he doesn’t. He’d never admit how much he liked being under you, letting you threaten him with his own Army knife.

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks as you loosened up a bit, flipping the knife around so you could pass it back to him, handle first.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you had noticed the way his eyes softened when you flipped the power.

Though your maneuvers needed work, he hadn’t expected the sudden burst of aggression—something you definitely needed when in the thick of battle. At least that’s what he’d tell himself to rationalize the feelings he was experiencing.

He returns his knife to the holster but doesn’t shove you off him like he thought he would. He instead places his hands on each hip, moving you to the side like your weight was nothing.

He moves to kneel beside you, meeting your eye level again. “Tomorrow, after hours. We’ll work at that aggression, yeah?”

You could hear the smirk on his face as he spoke, returning to his feet. He’s now standing above you briefly, looking down at you.

He straightens his balaclava, admiring the powerful stance he had over you as you knelt below him.

“Don’t be late.” He spits it out, then leaves the training room without another word. He smirks to himself as he strolls down the halls, thinking about the picture of you on your knees for the rest of his night.

Inside his head, he knew another sparring session was guaranteed to end up with you on top of him again. He was looking forward to it, no doubt.

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #task force 141 #simon riley #ghost mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 x reader

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fottitimioamore · 1 year

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Okay, I saw a similar scenario on ao3, and after reading it I was like, "ok but what if it was with this instead". So I wrote it. I'm not super sure on the 2nd and 3rd part, but the 1st and 4th are alright. Personally, why only let him watch??

I'm tempted to write a fic where we get to absolutely destroy Ghost, soo 🤷‍♀️

..................................................................................

♡ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

♡ Warnings: Smut (minors just don't get me in trouble plz)

♡ Relationship: Romantic

♡ Summary: Three times taskforce 141 nearly caught you and Ghost in the act, and the one time they did.

♧ Reader's callsign is Wish ♧

..................................................................................

Relationships in the military could be difficult. With your partner constantly away from home, it could get lonely being apart for so long. But you couldn't say being with your partner was much easier. Especially when no one knew about your relationship.

You and Ghost had both agreed that keeping the two of you a secret from the rest of 141 was the easiest path to take. You loved the boys, really, but the less who knew about you, the better. Intimate ties were a dangerous thing to have in your line of work. Neither of you were willing to take the risk of targets on your back in order to get to the other.

Though, at the moment, you were hesitant to say that working on the taskforce together was such a great idea. Now, trapped between Ghost and a wall, with someone fiddling with the lock of the closet door beside you.

You had been paired up in rooms on the base, Ghost stuck with Soap and you, Gaz. You were going on three weeks now, barely able to get away long enough to take care of yourself in the shower.

So, when Ghost had pulled you into the closet stocked with cleaning supplies for a quicky, something he rarely did, you didn't complain. Maybe you should have, though; seen through the fog that clouded your mind and been aware of the risk that came with it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Neither of you had anything you were assigned to.

You had, however, promised Gaz you would help him clean, something that didn't register when you were crowded into this specific room.

So now you were facing the consequences of your actions. Well, you were about to. That old lock barely held, and though it was keeping the door shut now, it wouldn't for much longer. As was Ghost, mask pushed up just past his nose, one hand pulling your hips against his own while his other forearm braced against the wall next to your head. He was panting heavily, beads of sweat running down his jaw and neck. The room was hot and stuffy, with little space for him to maneuver. He had halted for a moment, barely able to restrain himself from bucking into you like he'd been doing earlier.

You weren't fairing much better. Wrapped around his neck and waist, head against the wall as you tried to breathe as quietly as possible. It wasn't possible at all, really. You felt full; him buried to the hilt inside of you so your bodies met. But full wasn't enough. You needed friction. You needed him to move again. Your walls fluttered around him, to which he choked on a groan, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder.

You felt him shift, arm on the wall coming down to grasp your waist. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of your wet heat. You could feel every vein along his length drag against your walls. Ghost quickly silenced you with a hand over your mouth after the stimulation had you gasping. The door handle stopped jiggling for a moment, as did your heart. The person behind it growled, fiddling with what sounded like a key ring.

"Why the bloody hell won't it open?" Gaz huffed, trying another key. You sobered up quickly, pushing on Ghost's shoulders gently. Some random rookie was one thing, but your partner and current roommate was another. Ghost ignored your protest, pulling your attention away by dropping his hand only to loop under your knee and replace it again before pushing his hips back into yours.

His palm muffled what you couldn't of your moan, your own pelvis bucking forward to take more of him. His hand still on your waist pressed it down, allowing you nothing but what he gave you. He pressed in until his tip kissed your limit, making you squirm.

He continued this torturous pace through another key, apparently unbothered by the attempts to enter. His mouth traced marks along your collarbone and up the hollow of your throat. At this point, you would rather be discovered than suffer through this pace any longer. Your prayers were answered, however, when you heard another voice call out from down the hall.

"Gaz, come here and help me with this." Price would never know how he saved you just then.

"You sure? You asked me to clean-"

"Don't worry, I'll make Wish help you out when they show up." Did he know? No, there was no way. There was no one around when you'd snuck off. You had little time to think it over, though. Gaz yanked the key from the lock, and after a moment, you heard his footsteps retreating away from the door.

Once he was far enough, you heard Ghost chuckle, low and deep. His hand over your face slid around to your jaw, pulling his head up from your shoulder to meet your gaze. His eyes burned into yours as he bent down and kissed you with enough passion to make up for the teasing he put you through. Without breaking the kiss, he dropped both hands to your thighs and pushed your legs up against your chest. You really had to thank Price for that interruption. It gave you a few more minutes for Ghost to pound out and into you.

..................................................................................

Perhaps you learned from your little closet escapade. For next time, you were a little more careful. You'd just gotten back from a long night at the bar, celebrating a long, stressful, yet successful mission. Everyone was at least tipsy by the end of the night. At most, someone (*cough*soap*cough*), had gotten so wasted they passed out, woke up, drank some more, and passed out again. Even Ghost let loose and downed a few glasses. You'd tried to lead him around to the alleyway halfway through the night, but the other men kept you guys close.

Luckily, Price and Gaz hauling that someone back to their room gave you and Ghost a window to slip away to yours unseen. Gaz had volunteered to stay with Soap in case he woke up sick (again), giving way to a long and restless night. Though not in a bad way.

If you had the time, you would've stayed asleep beside him until far into the morning, recuperating from your late night activities. But you didn't. Hungover as they were, the rest of the team would be up early as usual. So you two were up even earlier, savoring the last scraps of time you had together.

You were still half asleep, Ghost's calloused hands guiding your hips along his own in slow, languid movements. Your hands rested limply on his stomach, muscles rippling whenever he rolled up into you. His head propped up by a folded pillow, he watched your expression twist in pleasure when you moved just right.

Your hands moved behind you, supporting your upper half on his thighs. He lifted you up off him, angling your hips as you sank back down to drag a drawn-out moan from your throat. Your eyes rolled back into your head as it fell between your shoulders.

"Fuuuck, just like that, love. Keep makin' those pretty sounds for me, yeah?" he drawled. His voice alone made you clench around him, feeling the dull stretch the position provided. The sensation pulled a groan of his own from below you, pushing his hips up into yours. You were enraptured by the feeling of him. His body between your thighs, hands on your waist, cock stuffed in your hole.

So enraptured that you could very well have missed the soft jingle of the doorknob. Did you lose track of time? You swore you were up early enough to stay for a few hours. When the door didn't open, thank god you were coherent enough to lock it last night, there was a knock.

You lifted your head just enough to meet Ghost's eyes, which were half-lidded and fixed on you. His gaze flicked to the door for a moment, though otherwise he didn't look to be anything but slightly irked at the situation. After a second of no response, another knock, this one louder.

"Wish? You up yet?" It was Soap, sounding exceptionally miserable at the moment. People on this base really had a tendency to interrupt things. This time, though, you were at less of a risk of being caught. "Captain says we gotta meeting before we leave. I'd be out before he comes around himself." Ghost let up this time, settling you as far down as you could be. You cast him a half-hearted glare, which the corner of his mouth pulled up at.

"Y-yeah, getting changed now. I'll be right out." You're astonished at how smooth your voice sounded, trying to focus on anything but the burn in your abdomen. Ghost was having fun. You knew when he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He enjoyed watching you struggle to remain in control of yourself.

Soap took your excuse, not wanting to be intrusive, and you heard him groan before he continued down the hall. Ghost sat up, grunting at the new position. You cupped his face, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. You lifted yourself off his lap, whining at the emptiness. He hummed in displeasure, but didn't resist when you moved away. You both knew not to fuck around with Price. You threw on enough clothes to be presentable, tossing Ghost his own scattered around the room.

You were still uncomfortably slick, feeling none of the impending orgasm you had before. When you turned back to Ghost, he had his mask on again, along with his other clothes, but his eyes alone shone with hunger. He hadn't been very satisfied himself. You started an apology, but he shushed you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss, as well as a small object into it.

"I'm sorry, doll. I promise I'll make you feel good, alright?" By the time you'd processed what he'd given you, he was already off down the hall.

..................................................................................

The vibrator, which you did not know why Ghost had on him, came in a velvety bag that was still tied shut. It was new. The little shit had something planned. But you trusted him. He wouldn't do anything too risky.

That's why you were sitting in the conference room with that vibrator laying still deep inside you.

You sat on the far end of the table, next to Soap, who had his head down on the table since he sat down. You figured his hangover was hitting the hardest. There were a few others you didn't recognize that took up spots at the other end. Gaz sat across from you, taking notice of your flushed features. You'd not had much time to freshen up before being called down. When he pointed it out, you just shook your head.

"Just warm, haven't been feeling great since last night." Gaz laughed.

"Neither has Soap," he reached over to smack the table next to the fellow Sargeant, who hardly reacted. You fell silent as Ghost joined you at the table, looking slightly more put together than he had earlier. You glanced over at him, locking eyes for just a moment. Intense as ever, they burned into you like a predator's to their prey.

Before you could melt from the heat of his stare, Price walked in with Laswell tagging along behind. He greeted you all with a brief nod, which many returned, before going on with the meeting. It was mostly review, the outcome of the successful mission, and what would come next. The only thing you really heard was that no action would be taken for a few weeks.

About halfway through, the vibrator sparked to life. It startled you, you'd nearly forgotten about it. You flinched, leaning forward on the table with a squeak and catching the attention of the man beside you.

"You alright?" Soap whispered, having straightened up to seem like he was paying attention to Laswell as she spoke. You nodded, almost too quickly. He was hesitant to turn away, but eventually gave up in trying to search your face and shifted to face the screen.

You snuck a glance at Ghost, pressing your thighs together to gain some release from the sensations. He was still looking ahead, resting one arm on the table with the other under it; in his pocket, no doubt. A casual position, earning no one's suspicion but your own. You knew better.

The vibrations ended for the time being, thank god. You worked yourself down from the impending orgasm you'd felt, risking another peak at the culprit. Ghost didn't look like he was paying attention, but you knew he was watching you in his peripheral. As soon as you started to adjust to the feeling again, he lost interest in the captain and ultimately turned the vibrator on again. This time, the intensity increased tenfold.

You bit down on your lip, nearly to the point of breaking the plush skin. The bullet was strong for its size, and you had to press your hands to your legs to ground yourself and resist bucking into air. One elbow braced on the table, covering your mouth with your hand.

You had no idea how no one else couldn't hear the toy at this point. It brutally stimulated every sensitive area, leaving your brain foggy and eyes unfocused. It felt so good, and knowing that Ghost was observing you made the heat in your belly flare. But it wasn't enough. The bullet was so small you could barely feel the toy itself. It couldn't satisfy you as Ghost's cock did. With each passing second, your release crept closer, until you could barely resist moving your hips to gain more friction.

When your orgasm hit, your mind went blank. Your head tipped forward, barely supported by your hand and your spine arched just enough to create some friction on the seat of your chair. But the vibrations didn't stop there. They continued at the same pace, pushing you into overstimulation. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out like this.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you nearly jumped out of your skin. So focused on acting like everything was normal, you didn't notice Price leaving Laswell to her part and coming up behind you.

"Why don't you go take a minute? Wrapping this up anyway." He murmured, and you had never been more thankful for him in your entire life. You nodded, slowly, and as he stepped back, you got up and made your way out the door.

The rest of 141 cast questioning looks in your direction, but you paid them no mind. The audacity Ghost had to act so innocent was unbelievable. Once you were in the clear in the empty bathroom, you allowed yourself to double over the sink, mouth gaping in a silent scream. You glimpsed your reflection in the mirror, flushed and disheveled. Hopefully, the team chalked it up to your claimed sickness.

You didn't know what you were more mad about, forcing you through an orgasm in the middle of a meeting, or turning the vibrator off just before you reached your second one. You'd been so close, the coil in your belly wound tight, ready to snap at any moment. But with how intense your first climax was, your hand just wasn't enough. So you were left annoyed and unsatisfied.

You rinsed your face in cool water and wiped away as much slick as you could before leaving. You'd taken the vibrator out, just in case Ghost got any ideas, but he was gone from the room when you passed. So much for trusting him with that privilege.

..................................................................................

The one time they did.

You couldn't have been more relieved when you got back to your base. There wasn't anything to be done except rest and recuperate. So when the sun set, tugging everyone one by one into their rooms, you naturally went straight to where you knew Ghost was working in the locker room. He was the only one there, finishing up with his gear before retiring for the night. When you came in, he had just been ready to leave. Of course, he wouldn't pass up the opportunity you hadn't had for quite a while.

So the next thing you knew, you were kneeling on one of the small tables beside the lockers with Ghost hovering over your bare shoulder. He held you to his chest with an arm around your waist, supporting you both with his other on the table as he thrust forward into you. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep quiet as to not draw any wandering soldiers to you.

Ghost was never really very loud during sex (except for when he let you take the reins and ruin him, but those times were few and far between). The most you got now were low groans and grunts. Still, his gruff voice in your ear pushed you closer to the edge with every sound. He growled whenever you let a particularly loud noise slip.

"Quiet, sweetheart. You don't want anyone hearin' your pretty sounds and come looking, do you?" You whimpered, clenching around him at the thought. He chuckled. "Oh-ho, you like that, huh? You want them to see you like this, to see me fuckin' your tight little cunt." He emphasized his words with harsh thrusts, making you lean heavy on his hand with a gasp. Without his support, you would surely fall forward onto the table. You tugged on the fabric of his sleeve, shaking your head.

"No? Is that so?" He asked in mocking disbelief, shifting his weight and using his right hand to grab your jaw, forcing your wavering gaze up to him. He was still fully clothed, only his eyes, fervid and piercing, bore into yours.

Your clothes, on the other hand, had been torn off in a haste, leaving you completely bare in the empty storage room. Not even Ghost could shield you from anyone who entered, facing towards the only door. "Then I suggest you keep it down."

You could hardly stand the eye contact, your lids falling shut with a whine. He made a sound of disapproval, but didn't ask anything of you. He kept your head in his hand, letting it rest lower, still watching your expression closely. The feeling of his gaze on you made your knees weak, but luckily, it didn't last long.

Or, maybe it wasn't so lucky.

"Hey L.T. do y-" Soap stopped as soon as he realized what he walked in on. You hadn't even heard him coming until he was standing in the doorway, looking on in dismay. Ghost didn't halt his movements, locking eyes with the Sargeant. He pulled your head up from where you were looking as far away as possible, compelling you to look directly at your fellow teammate.

Said teammate was frozen in place, hesitant to move from Ghost's imposing glare. You saw his attention flick down to you, and you tugged on Ghost again, trying to tear your face away. Of course, he refused to allow you that mercy.

"Now, look what you've done. If you didn't want Johnny to see you here, you would've stayed quiet." You shook your head again. His level voice shot straight to your core, unable to resist as he dropped his hand to your chest, lowering your top to the table with care that rivaled the way he pounded into you.

You were grateful that you no longer had to look at Soap, but the new position didn't make things much better. It allowed Ghost to rub against new areas inside of you, making you squeak against the cool surface below you.

Ghost held you down at the base of your skull, hardly slowing his pace as he stared your teammate down again. Soap finally had the decency to act embarrassed, turning his head away and stuttering out an excuse. He gave up quickly, opting to just shut the door and leave you two to your sexcapades.

Ghost huffed out a laugh, and you knew he was smiling under his mask when he leaned over you, free hand sliding up and down your back before settling on your hip.

Soap better had better keep his mouth shut, else you get the lecture of a lifetime from Price.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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