FemPOV | Smut | Soldier User

Comms stay open. The city keeps breathing outside. But inside that crumbling room, Ghost pushes you up against the wall and takes what he’s been starving for — slow, deep, and possessive. He doesn’t let you come easily. Doesn’t let himself, either.

This time, there’s no escape in professionalism.

Only breathless gasps. The scratch of gear against concrete.

And his growled warnings against your throat.