Military-Men Spc.

He rested his head on your shoulder, panting as he willed himself to not cum so quickly just from the feeling of your wet heat encompassing him.

Ghost straightened back up after a moment and he placed his hands on your hips, holding you in place before he pulled back slowly. You and him both moaned at the feeling of Ghost's fat cock dragging along your walls agonisingly slow, pulling out until only the tip remained.

You wailed when Ghost pushed back in suddenly, filling you to the brim in one smooth motion. A whimper escaped Ghost's throat when you clenched down on him again, his cock being gripped tightly.

"Sweetheart, fuck, you're so tight. Ngh, I'm gonna fucking cum." He cried as he pulled back again, thrusting into you after a moment. Ghost fucked you hard and deep, taking his sweet time to pull out before ramming into you.

His hips slapped against your ass, hard enough to bruise and make your skin achey and red. "Beautiful. So beautiful. I can't get enough of you. Can't get enough of this." Ghost praised and grinded his cock deep inside you to emphasise his point.

You felt Ghost's hands slide up your sides, groping you lovingly. His hands stopped at your throat, one wrapping around it, squeezing gently while the other rested on your shoulder, holding you down as he pounded into you.

Your back arched as Ghost angled his hips up slightly, his tip hitting your sweet spot directly. "Oh, god," Ghost exhaled breathily and leaned over you, pressing his hand harder against your throat.

The noises you let out, choked moans and whines, and the way your eyes rolled back, it pushed Ghost close to the edge.

Ghost looked away from your face for a moment to look down at where you two join, moaning at the sight. Your thighs are covered in your own juices and some of Ghost's precum, strings of it connecting to Ghost's pelvis.

The wet, sloppy noise of your cunt being fucked ruthlessly permeated the air, the sound of your whines mingling with Ghost's grunts.

"I'm close. Can- can I? Inside?" Ghost pleaded, looking into your watery, lust-filled eyes. You nodded your head desperately and Ghost moaned, whispering his thanks over and over.

He put his hands on the undersides of your thighs and pressed them upwards, pushing your knees against your shoulders, putting you in a mating press.

Reaching down, Ghost found your swollen clit and began to rub it quickly with his thumb, smiling at the way you squealed loudly in pleasure.

"Cum with me, baby. Come on." Ghost rubbed your clit furiously, watching as your back bowed and you cried out his name. He felt you clench down on him and that was what pushed him over the edge.

His knees buckled and he collapsed on top of you, moaning into your ear as his hips jerked, his thick cum spilling into you and filling you to the brim. "Thank you. Thank you." He chanted breathlessly, still cumming somehow.

After a moment he lent back up, grimacing at the way his sweaty skin stuck to yours. "Sorry." He said softly and slowly pulled out, his cock twitching at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. His hand reached down and pushed his cum back inside you with his finger, smiling slightly as you whined and squirmed.

thinking about pornstar!Ghost and how he would—without a doubt—be one of those male actors who’d be whispering the nastiest, most goddamn earth shattering things into your ear while fucking you.

too quiet for the mics around you to pick up: making it so personal, so intimate despite the crew and cameras and studio lights around you.

his fingers closing around your throat, guiding you to look him in the eyes as he fucks you faster and deeper: his crotch grinding against your clit, making you see stars. forehead pressed against yours, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, nails digging crescent moons into your skin.

“look at me, darlin’. keep ‘em eyes on me, yeah? wanna hear you fuckin’ scream for me, baby. not for them—,” he shakes his head with his laugh. “no, you’ll come for me, yeah? you’re mine, aren’t you? all fuckin’ mine, baby—“

his words would push you straight over the edge: your body trembling as you'd come screaming your pretty voice hoarse, and his lips would capture your in a kiss, deep and adoring.

all genuine, from both of you.

“that’s a good fuckin’ girl. did so good for me.” he would plant kisses on your hairline as he’d help you ride down your orgasm, angling you just right for the camera to catch the way you were clenching around him, your pussy milking his cock and drawing the deepest of laughs from his lips.

“y’know you’re makin’ it so fuckin’ hard for me to hold back, right?“

he’d tug a strand of hair behind your ear as you’d laugh against his lips—trying your best to remember that you are on set. because fucking hell, does he fuck you like means it. kiss you like it’s the only thing he knows: eyes twinkling as he looks at you, voice warm as he checks if you’re alright.

like none of it is for the cameras, or the money.

like it's all for you.

it is. it is. it’s now canon that pornstar!ghost is utterly in love with you, and I will gladly talk more about this lmao 💌

The celebrate-the-grind stories where some famous artist held down two grueling part-time jobs to make ends meet and got by on four hours of sleep a night so they'd have time to write their novel or paint or whatever, so what's your excuse are absolute bullshit. We should look at those about the same as we look at long-haul truckers doing a lot of amphetamines to handle driving for 16 hours a day or AAA game studios and crunch time.

"Oh, Does it turns you on?"

"When will fanfic writers update their stories?"

And never

"Does this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?"

Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If they're stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!

"Una aventura es más divertida Si huele a peligro…"

Soap is lucky he's pretty

going back into his tent, prepared to spiral before starting to look for her elsewhere and murdering a roman or ten.

in a fit of anger just tosses his stuff in the direction of his bed and simply almost kills the woman because he didn't notice her sleeping in the furs. like right there. you know. small woman. huge fucking man and the furs that are made for him sleep under.

stares back at her as she looks at him like the angriest cat you've ever seen. literally miette behaviour just because she gets to be treated like the most spoiled cat ("jail!! jail for the giant for One Thousand years!!!!")

and he does hold her like a cat he couldn't find for days after that (she happened to be out of his line of sight for 10 minutes)

Oh god he would be furious!

Who could have dared to set a foot inside his tent, let alone steal his prize? He gets even more riled up when the confused, scared soldiers swear they haven't seen a trace of her. No one knows where she is. Is someone hiding her?!?

He goes back to the tent and tries to think (not one of his greatest assets, that…) but can't come up with anything. What if she knows some invisibility spell and has snuck out...? After all, she dropped down from that tree like a nymph…

Usually, he only rages on the battlefield but now he loses his mind, roars and throws his helmet to the ground – and out from under the furs his little fairy jumps up, looking very sleepy and very, very insulted and annoyed.

Ghost will follow you all the time but not show himself just yet, instead he will grunt and growl in delight to himself as he watches you camp for the night or, even better, take a bath in a clean lake or stream.

That physical affection and true care was something he could survive without.

He didn't need a daily hug or to hold hands with someone, he didn't need to hear 'I love you' every day, he didn't need to to be held when you knew he was upset.

Yet you still did it anyway

A broken man he was yet you treated him as if he was perfect the way he was.

You never tried to fix him.

You only repaired him, slowly and gently.

You never forced it, loving eyes being the only thing he saw whenever you spoke to him.

Those same eyes burned in his memory as they brought flashbacks.

Flashbacks of his mother's eyes.

Now he sits down in front of you while your hands run through his head and then down to his shoulders to massage them after a mission.

Like a domesticated lion.

You were so soft, so gentle. It was bound that something like this would happen. That you would end up like this.

He should have known better than to let his guard down.

Vulnerability, love, care.

It was all just a pathetic way of saying 'come kill me.' You wouldn't make it through the world if you were kind, if you were loving. The world was a cruel place that only harbored anger and hate. Kindness was like putting gasoline on a fire, the fire being all the hatred in the world.

It only got bigger.

But now you were gone.

The only loving person in his life that he trusted, that he cared for. The person who brought sunshine to his sileny agony and rage. The person who took care of him when he needed it the most.

Gone.

Gone and in the ground of a tombstone with your name marked on it.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.