V

Warning(s): AFAB!reader, smut, not proofread

John knew how much you liked to play, he saw it in your eyes the first time you both were in the same room.

So it didn't take him long to realize what you wanted that night when he came home from work stressed and tense, his muscles ached and to tell the truth he was a little angry, despite being a fairly calm man.

"I don't want to have sex today." It was the only thing that slipped from your lips but he knew better, he could see the glint of lust in your eyes, besides... that babydoll? You only used it when you wanted to drive him crazy.

He narrowed his eyes at you and slid his jacket off his body, leaving it on the couch to approach you, his calloused hands grazing your figure, making your skin crawl. He looked you up and down, filling himself with you, inhaling your natural scent.

"You know you have to do it, it's your duty as my wife." He spoke close to your ear, his raspy voice along with his words sending a wave of heat right between your thighs and you squeezed your legs together. You loved your man, he gave you what you wanted without even having to say it once, it made you want to please him more.

"I don't need to please you." You said in a pathetic whine that made him chuckle, he sat on the arm of the couch before placing his hands on your hips to turn you around, now looking at your pretty back. Oh... you had no underwear, such a considerate wife, making it easier for him to touch your pretty cunt that was already soaking wet for him…

His hand went under that excuse of clothing you were wearing, his fingers brushing against your wetness and he shook his head, letting out a sigh almost feeling disappointed.

“Such a pretty cunt… all wet for me”. He spoke, his voice husky with need, he slid a thick finger inside you, your walls clenching around it desperately, how could you play hard to get when you were this ready for him, darling?

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent the desperate sounds that wanted to come out of your mouth, your back arching to feel his finger deeper inside you as his fingertip rubbed your g-spot.

“J-John…” He silenced you immediately, taking his finger out of you and ignoring the whimper of protest, you felt him take off his belt and let it fall, the next thing you heard was the zipper of his pants, you stayed still, stifling a moan when you felt his swollen tip brushing your folds, your clit, collecting all the slick to use it as lube.

He finally sank his length inside you, angling his hips so he could hit that sweet spot of yours, letting out a grunt that made you throb and moan like the bitch in heat you knew you were for him.

"I do not want this". You spoke breathlessly, trying not to forget the kind of role-play you were in but it was difficult when your insides took him so well, you swallowed it all in the first thrust and after that he couldn’t control himself anymore.

His hands squeezed your hips with a force that would leave you bruised the next day, but who were you to protest? "You're taking it well, baby, so well..." He spoke, almost drooling as he felt his cock slide easily in and out of your juicy pussy that seemed to be begging to be filled with his seed. The thrusts echoed throughout the room and the sound was so gross that it only made you wetter, your delicious juices that John would drink later ran down your legs and it felt so good you were going dumb, a little dumb slut for your husband who was taking you as if his life depended on it.

And he came embarrassingly fast but could you blame him? The way you moaned was enough to send him over the edge, you were the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen and being inside you was a pleasure he was lucky to have.

Everyone talks about Ghost fucking like a beast, insatiable and merciless but what if he hates it? Maybe he does.

Maybe he hates the way his body betrays him, he hates the spasms, hates feeling he doesn’t really have much control over the situation, it’s almost like he’s a child again, incapable, desperate and… scared.

The mere idea of sex disgusted him in ways you can’t comprehend, it made him remember something he tried to forget every single day, so he refused to even think about touching a woman or a woman touching him.

He laughed every time Soap made a joke about how much the task force needed a barracks bunny to relieve stress and if a woman smiled at him he tried his best to smile back, but that was all he could do, it was a façade.

However, your warm smile made him feel… weird, confused even. Made him feel vulnerable and even angry so he decided he couldn’t stand you anymore, he tried to avoid you and was so cold, reluctant to talk to you.

But we can’t escape from destiny, its grasp is so strong… it leads us to a labyrinth and lets us run aimlessly, play with us like a predator until we’re tired and exhausted.

The very first time he thought about you he was alone in his room, trying to drink his past away and you just came to his mind, he imagined you smiling, being kind as always and then… he imagined things that still make him feel shame.

A few weeks went by and he just couldn’t escape from you anymore, and you were real this time, not his mind playing tricks on him. You were talking and drinking, happy as always.

When the night ended he pulled you to a corner, lifted his balaclava just enough for you to see his lips and even though he was still pretty much confused, his lips brushed against yours; he was giving you the chance to leave or stay.

He's just a ghost (part 1?)

After Johnny's death everything changed within you, around you and even in the world, nothing looked as colorful anymore, your family was not as happy and everyone felt the absence of your brother.

Time went on slowly, every week felt like hell because how do you really get over a loss? And people were nice, they gave you hugs and words of encouragement that were filled with nothing but good intentions, but you doubted you could ever recover from this, he was your family, your role model and the light of everyone who knew him.

On the other hand, your family and your home was not the only place where absence paid a visit, it also walked through the barracks and his captain's office, it hugged his teammates and although everyone was painfully used to losses... this one was different, it felt more heartbreaking.

Ghost hated to admit it but his mind wandered to memories of his mate, of that accent that he repudiated and now tried to reproduce in his mind, of the jokes that did make people laugh but he never allowed himself to laugh, which felt bad now. He was a nostalgic man, he lived in the past although he did not like to relive those moments.

And he felt alone, maybe that's why he was encouraged to open the letter you sent him under another name with fingers numb from the cold and assumed that the person writing had already sent letters to members of the army, his full name was written next to his unit. He ran his fingers all over the paper that had been crumpled a little from the stack of other letters, it was kind of cliché but it was the best way to communicate when there was no signal.

“I don't really understand how to start a letter, in fact I have never known, even though I have written so many, I didn't study the reason very well either.

Maybe I feel alone, I don't know, what I have known for quite some time is that I am sad and writing makes me forget a little how monotonous and gray my life has become.”

Ghost looked at the window for a moment, his hand reaching for the old wood of the cabin where they spent the night, thinking for a moment that the feelings of the person who wrote to him coincided with his own, his vision was lost for a moment in the darkness and the snow before returning to the letter.

“Is the army as depressing as they say? I can't come to grips with the reality that blood and death is a lifestyle that people choose by choice, it's selfish, your loved ones worry and fear for your well-being while you flee from the tranquility of a comfortable life."

Simon had to stop to chuckle. “I have no loved ones, darling.” He muttered as he shook his head slowly and settled on the floor as best as he could, his back resting against the wood that creaked with every movement and the musty smell was seeping through his mask into his lungs, how was it possible, with so much snow?

“What I want to say is that I don't understand how you can carry the weight of death on your shoulders without it driving you crazy, it's too much and I get exhausted just thinking about it.

Maybe I need help, for you to allow me to see with your eyes to see if I learn to cope with what I feel now.”

He bit his cheek, his eyes lowered to the end of the letter, where there was a mail address just in case he wanted to respond and the initial of a letter that he deduced was random.

Ghost let out a sigh, it was early morning and his eyes hurt, burning from the amount of time he had spent awake, his body was numb from the cold despite all the layers of clothing that covered his skin, however he managed to stand up and lazily look for a piece of paper that was in decent condition to answer.

It didn't matter who he was, what mattered was that he had an address to send the response to and that he too felt the loneliness eating away at his brain like a virus, he felt exhausted and hopeless, Soap's death had been so unexpected... well, like everyone else's, it was part of the job.

There was a piece of paper in one of the kitchen drawers and he grabbed  it along with a pen that looked about to give in, but trying was what he should do and he doubted it, he had not written a letter for a long time and although he did not consider himself a bitter old man, he never had much to say.

“The army is often not only an obligation but also an escape for many who do not find a home in their house, it is sinister at first, I am not going to lie. There are daily situations that make you wonder if you want to continue there and even if you feel like you are made of iron, many things change you forever.

Time gets you a little used to all the mess and you find yourself unable to feel the same level of terror that you felt as a newbie, which is worse because it often led me to wonder what was I becoming.

I could never spend too much time thinking about whether I feel alone or scared, it's probably what caught my attention the most about the job, it doesn't stop for anyone, it doesn't let us stop to think if it's what we want or not".

His hand hurt from writing so fast and he dropped the pen once he finished, it was a little short but he wasn't used to sending letters, he didn’t have a big family, he wasn't a lover, a son, a father, he wasn't anyone, just a ghost.

He walked slowly back to the window and collapsed on the floor, letting out a sigh and feeling the heaviness of fatigue, closing his eyes. He would sleep badly and wake up sore, but that was better than not sleeping.

The next morning they all left the cabin to a place a little fuller of civilization and he was able to send the letter by mail to the address you left him. He didn't know when it would arrive as it was never a quick process, but he found himself longing for the response. It was the only way he had to feel connected to the outside, so he limited himself to asking questions that might make you simply not answer anymore.

And just as Simon imagined, the letter was in your hands fifteen days later, you read it with tears in your eyes because although his personality and Johnny's were not even remotely similar, he reminded you of your brother, because the 141 was part of him and his essence.

That was precisely the reason why you were talking to him through letters, because you needed to feel connected to someone who was no longer there and your only connection right now was Simon, it was strange, not him but this whole situation, you had met Ghost only once and you felt intimidated, his cold gaze under that mask was so hard and emotionless, he really lived up to that nickname, he was like a ghost.

You sighed, sitting on the kitchen chairs and looking out the window, the weather outside was merciless, the snow was destroying everything in its path and you could no longer see the floor, that weather reminded you of your childhood, the layers of thick snow covered the cars and yet the discomfort of humidity was more present than the cold.