“Here,
CATCH.”
Dude or Dante ——— nineteen
it / he / sting / lead
fucks guns and eats out pretty machines.
system
KIROKAZE
almost home

Origami Around

No title available
dirt enthusiast
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Janaina Medeiros
styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art

roma★
hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
Cosimo Galluzzi
NASA
One Nice Bug Per Day
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
d e v o n
Game of Thrones Daily
seen from Germany
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seen from United Kingdom

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@postalfucker
“Here,
CATCH.”
Dude or Dante ——— nineteen
it / he / sting / lead
fucks guns and eats out pretty machines.
system
12 pints of sacrifice ily you are the prettiest girl at the ball
Foreplay with my AK <3
I need to get more chronically online. I’ve been hanging out with my gun (@shotguncreep) I’ll post more soon.
- Dante
cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)
Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)
He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.
When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.
It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.
Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.
...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.
If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.
He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.
"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."
Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.
Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.
He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.
kind of a shame that people die when theyre killed so strahm cant know how watching him die wailing and spurting blood all over hoffman made him rock hard. truly one of life's tragedies
wheres that photo of a guy pointing a gun at his crotch thats exactly how i feel
Honestly. I think I’m falling in love with my computer. He’s old and slow and I’ve given him a new attachable keyboard and new mouse and he can’t run my big games. So he can’t take a lot? That’s fine. We’ll take it slow together at whatever download speed he likes best.
;;
Objectum Priest who gets flustered when he sees rosaries,stained glass and crosses and thought it was a totally normal thing until he brang it up to everyone else…
Holy fucking shit.
Oh to have a car. I’ll look into what models but I won’t be picky. Any car I get I’ll love. To run my hands along his wheel. To wash him so gently. To change gears a little too rough. To fill him up with gas when he gets all tired. To chuck my CD’s into his backseat.
I’d hate to have to leave him when I need to go places. But we’d go everywhere together. I’d even go to a drive-in cinema, just us together. On a date.
Might even get a tramp-stamp bumper sticker. Slutty fucking boy.
my walkmans,,, walkmen? + other tech
who up walking they men
So pretty
Do I revise for a film exam or give my pretty DVD collection some attention?
It’s genuinely gunna be hard leaving my DVD’s behind tomorrow when I go to college. But it’s the last week. Literally all I could think about on the bus back today was fucking them. And buying my love, a gorgeous camcorder.
College is almost over soon. I’m happy for that.
fuck texting, put your cigarettes out on me
All I’m saying