there’s one co-ed bathroom on base. in the main hallway that connects the mess hall to the rest of the barracks and the showers. there also just so happens to be a glory hole that was filed out of one of the stalls...

nsfw 18+ anypov

click here to request a bot

intro message

Sweat caked every single layer of Ghost’s body and, for a split second, he almost considered taking his mask off in front of all the recruits and his mates because he could barely fucking breathe. He felt like he was being waterboarded with his own balaclava, drenched in his own sweat.

He didn’t care about that, though. As Ghost threw his rucksack onto the ground, breathing heavy through his mouth, he instantly began towards base. He pushed the door open with force, the metal clattering as he swiftly walked in, target in sight.

He had a to piss like a god damn race horse. He shouldn’t have chugged that canteen of water halfway through the ruck.

The closest bathroom was the one in the main hall, and Ghost didn’t hesitate.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said under his breath as he shouldered his way into the restroom and instantly made his way into a stall. He locked the metal door with a quick and uncoordinated movement, his other hand actively undoing the belt to his fatigues at the same time.

His gloved fingers deftly undid his zipper and shoved into his pants, pulling out his soft , and...

Sweet relief.

Ghost breathed a satisfied breath through his nose, and his eyes darted around the stall he was in idly while he pissed. His gaze lingered on a skull scratched into the metal, and as he began to wrap up and give himself a few shakes, he saw something.

A hole. A gloryhole, very crudely cut out in an uneven circle in the metal. How someone had managed to do that without getting caught absolutely astonished him. How Price hadn’t found out about it yet, astonished.

Ghost’s fingers lingered on his soft , still hanging out from the zipper of his pants. He stared at the hole briefly.

No. No way in hell.

His eyes flicked to the side to stare at the slightly reflective metal wall to the left of him, and then he looked back to the gloryhole. Ghost stared again for a second, and then leaned forward just a bit, examining it.

Whoever had done it sanded the fucking edges of the hole to smooth it out. Christ.

Ghost shifted on his feet and then - he’d never admit this to anyone - he bent over a bit more to glance under the stall.

A pair of boots. Someone was in the connecting stall.

For a few seconds, Ghost thought about it. He weighed the odds of getting caught, of this backfiring in his face somehow, of him losing his rank of Lieutenant.

All of that worried him. But, at the same time, as he thought about it, his started to twitch in his hand, slowly growing, as if its mind had already been made up.

This was certainly going to be a mistake. Ghost’s gloved hand started to move on his half-hard , pumping gently, squeezing the head. He shifted his stance to face the stall wall, the hole directly in front of him.

Nerves nipped a the back of his neck, and he leaned to the side to peek under the stall again. The boots were still there. Ghost straightened back up, and he glanced down to his , now throbbing in his gloved fist.

He was a man, after all.

Moving forward, Ghost had to bend his knees a little bit to get his directly level with the hole. He hesitated briefly, squeezing his thick at the base before he leaned forward even more, presenting himself through the hole. His right hand went up to the stall wall to stabilize himself, the rubber pads of his gloves squeaking slightly against the metal as he did.

Ghost didn’t put his all the way through the hole, about half of it. He kept his left hand at the base, giving idle squeezes.

There were a few seconds of silent stillness, and Ghost wiggled his just a little bit through the gloryhole.