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[questysfics]

Miguel O'hara!!!!!! I need nsfw headcannons, please 🥺 he could choke me and I would thank him 🙏

Tags: gender neutral reader, NSFW

Miguel is a pleasure dom. No ifs and or buts. Gets off on making you a quivering mess, all for him, making you pleasure stupid, cum dumb. He'll have you cumming so many times, you won't feel right for weeks.

Breeding kink. Majorly. Doesn't matter if you have the parts to be properly bred or not, he's going to creampie you again and again. Loves to watch the mess drip out of you, and loves to clean you up after, either with a bath or with his mouth.

If you can handle it, the pent up aggression from work is going to be taken out on you pretty regularly. Prepared to be bruised, bitten, spanked, choked. While most times the pleasure is about you, sometimes he just has to be selfish and bury himself in you until the tension is gone.

Favorite positions are the mating press, locus, and cowgirl- he also has a thing for doggy if there's a mirror, thst was he can put his hands in your hair and force you to watch yourself as he fucks you.

Praise and degradation, mixed together, big dirty talker.

"You're such a good slut for me." "It's like your hole was made for my cock." "You're gonna take it and be a good girl/boy for me."

Miguel is noisy, lots of grunts, panting, moans, curses in English and Spanish, loves calling you pet names.

He fucks so hard that the sound of skin on skin will echo in your ears for hours afterwards; noise complaints are common.

Foreplay is his favorite part. He could have his head between your legs or have his fingers in your for hours. Won't stop until you're an absolute mess, trembling, barely able to form words or thoughts.

Cock warming is a big yes for him. He likes to just be inside you while he relaxes, holds you close and whispers praises and sweet words.

Miguel also really likes watching you touch yourself. He'll stand over the bed and watch, his gaze intense, silent, breathing hard with excitement as you get yourself off.

[questysfics]

would youu write something small for philip graves maybe?

Tags: power imbalance, slight dub!con, rough oral sex, face fucking, handcuffs, interrogations, (friends to) enemies to lovers, age difference, degrading kink, voice kink, dirty talk

"All you gotta do is tell me where they are, sweetheart."

Your defiant glare doesn't change as Graves demands your compliance. He purrs it out sweet like sugar, thick as nectar, but you know it's just a trap- like a fly being lured into a pitcher plant. And his coy smirk as he leans a palm against the table you're sat at makes it worse.

He's poison.

Several days ago, you would've called him a friend. A close one at that. But when the Shadow Company changed it up, you did too. You didn't want to be a bad guy. And you know damn well that it didn't just make Graves angry- it hurt him. You were his friend first. And suddenly, you were helping out Ghost and Soap. He felt betrayed. And jealous.

"Fuck. You," You hiss, and for good measure, spit at his feet.

His smirk fades into a snarl as he lurches forward and grabs your jaw so hard it makes your entire face ache. He rounds up on you, his eyes wild as he gets within inches of your personal space.

"Those mother fuckers must've given you some good dick to make you change up on us so fast, so fucking easy," he hisses, voice dripping with malice.

Your face burns at his accusation, both out of anger and embarrassment. "I didn't sleep with any of them!" You snarl, kicking out your legs and twisting your cuffed wrists until they're raw. "And if I did, that's not your business, Phillip!"

"It is," he growls, the look in his eyes one of desperation and contempt. "You're mine, you hear me, sweetheart? You belong to me. Not some cockney fuck, not some Scottish shitheel, mine."

The heat raising to your face hurts. it creeps up from your neck, spreading across your cheeks, down to your chest, making your heart hammer and your tongue go heavy in your mouth.

"Who said I was yours!?" you hiss between your teeth. "You had your chance to make a move, and you never did!"

Phillip straightens out and glares down at you, his hand falling away from your chin. You swallow hard, knowing that look in his eyes. Normally, it was pointed at an enemy, but with it directed at you... you felt a shiver down your spine.

"I'm gonna put your smart ass mouth to good use," Graves says, cold but calm. His hands go to his belt, undoing it and letting it hang in the loops, almost too fast for you to register. It's not until he's sliding down his zipper that you realize what sort of trouble you're in.

The scariest part is you... want it. You need it. You've been craving this for years.

Mouth agape, you look back from his hands pulling out his cock to his eyes, just a blink before his hard dick is free. He growls down at you, stroking himself with a tight fist, and smirks.

"What can I say, sweetness? Seeing you at my mercy has always been a fantasy of mine," he hums. He reaches his other hand forward and grips your chin again. "You've already got your mouth open for me. Good."

The tip of his cock, dripping precum, rubs against your lips. It circles around your mouth and you instinctively open your lips a bit more, which has the man above you grinning.

"That's a good girl," he all but purrs. "I didn't even have to ask."

You open your mouth to snap at him but he takes that opportunity to slide his cock into your mouth. He's not gentle, either. The entire length slams back, the head hitting your gag reflex enough to make your eyes water as your body heaves with surprise. A huff of annoyance leaves Phillip as he grabs a fistful of your hair and slides your mouth off him.

"Don't be so dramatic," Graves says with a roll of his eyes before leaning over you. "Just take it, princess."

You glare up at him, your lips pressed together tightly. The two of you stay there like that for a moment before he raises a brow at you, and you give in to your desire. Shamefully, you open your mouth again, your eyes closing and brows furrowing, and Graves chuckles as he pats your cheek with his free hand.

"That's my girl."

His praise sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your clit and you groan around his cock, making him shiver at the feeling. With a breathless laugh, he lets his head roll back as he rocks his hips into your mouth. In and out, slow and steady, allowing you to adjust, if only for a moment.

"Fuck, baby... That's it," he says quietly. "Been wanting this so bad. So fucking bad, baby, you have no idea. Kept myself awake for many nights, fucking my fist, thinking about your pretty, smart mouth around my cock, or your tight little cunt squeezing around me... fuuuck-"

His hips stutter for a second, his grip on your hair tightening, before he takes a sharp breath though his nose and composes himself. He's not as gentle as before. In fact, he's down right brutal. He fucks your mouth and throat like he needs it to live, his breathing hard and heavy, broken by the occasional curse or wobbling whimper.

You gag and struggle to breathe against him slamming down your throat, his body almost breaking your nose as he continues to thrust. Eyes rolling back, pussy soaked and needy, you hollow out your cheeks and swallow around him. Your tongue lavishes across him as much as you can while he forces your head to bob on his dick.

"God damn, baby, take it. Take it," he growls out, the fingers in your hair trembling. "Take my fuckin' load down your throat, sweetheart-"

He cums with a loud, shaking groan of your name, and you furrow your brows as you try to swallow it all down. For a moment, he stands there, legs shaking slightly, cock twitching on your tongue, before he grins and slides himself out of your mouth. He's still hard, throbbing, a string of spit connecting his tip to your swollen lips.

"God damn, sweetheart," he sighs. "I can't get enough of you."

[questysfics]

Hii again

Mayybe could you write something for philip graves? A drabble maybe eheh, whatever comes to your mind

Tags: frottage, dry humping, oral fixation, hate sex, enemies to lovers, choking, fingering, dirty talk, fighting to be on top, fem!reader

He doesn't like the way you shove your fingers into his mouth while you settle your weight onto him. A low, guttural growl leaves him as your digits slide roughly past his barely parted lips to feel the grooves of his teeth and the wet surface of his tongue. His cheeks turn red, hot red, as he glares up at you, his hands on your hips in a brutal grip that will leave bruises before the two of you are done.

"You're such a fucking asshole," You snarl down at him, grinding your heat against the tent in his pants; the action makes him stutter, his mind going blank at the friction, but only for a second.

"And you're a tease, sweetheart," he grunts back and bucks his hips to roll against you; the friction makes you gasp. "Fucking hell, baby, I can already feel how wet you are..."

You stuff your fingers farther into his mouth, threatening to gag him. "Shut. Up. Graves."

A flash of challange sparks in his face, and he laughs, biting down on your fingers enough to warn you. "Make me, princess."

That just makes your chest ache with heat from anger and desire and the urge to shut the fucker up, so your fingers slide out of his mouth, still slick with his spit, and wrap around his throat. He gasps at that, eyes widening, but you and he both know he likes it, as much as it surprises him. You squeeze just hard enough to prevent him from speaking, at least for the moment, and he groans and grinds up against you- the tented zipper of his pants hits your clothed cunt and you moan, the sound quiet but enough to make Graves grin up at you like a smug cat.

His hands still on your hips, he holds you steady and rocks up into you again- your composure weakens, the sensation overwhelming, and you start to shake.

"Graves," You growl out, a warning that sounds weak and without heat.

"What, sweetheart?" He groan out, your fingers still on his throat. "You needy? Huh? It that it? Want me to fill that aching pussy of yours? I can do that for ya. Just gotta... ask."

The way he talks to you makes your body feel hot and cold at the same time, your clit throbbing from arousal. Biting your lip, you squeeze your fingers harder, tighter, pressing your palm against his Adam's apple to assert that you were in control here, not him. However, that seems to push him over the edge. With a dark, intense look in his eyes, he uses his height and strength to his advance and bucks you up, leaving you unbalanced, which he takes as his move.

In less time than it takes to blink, you're face down on the ground, cheek pressed against cold metal, and your hips raised just enough for Graves to keep humping against you like a rutting animal. You twist your head around enough to look over your shoulder at him, your glare hot, and he gives you this shit eating grin, obviously all too proud of himself.

He leans over you, his cock straining against his uniform and rubbing against your ass.

"How's this, sweetheart? I won't even make you ask for it, I'm nice like that."

You open your mouth to retort, but he unbuckles your pants with one hand- how he does that, you have no clue, but he does. And it sends a jolt right to your clit, forcing a choked whimper from you.

His eyes light up at the sound as his hands dip under your pants and underwear.

"Oh? You like this, princess?" He purrs in your ear. "Such a sweet thing you are, trying to pretend like you don't want my fat cock in your tight little snatch."

"Oh, God, shut up," You groan, closing your eyes tightly. "You... talk too fucking much."

"You love it," Graves chuckles before nipping at your earlibe- somehow that action is more intimate than his fingers gliding over your folds, threatening to dive into your soaked hole at any second.

"I'm not your lover," You hiss. "Don't do that."

"Hush, baby. Lemme take care of you." The way he says it is sickeningly sweet and it makes your stomach curl with both disgust and arousal.

His fingers slide into your hole with ease; your teeth dig into your lip until you taste blood trying to hold back your noises, deny him that pleasure of hearing you. Even as his palm grinds against your clit and he curls his digits, your try to resist. But he hits a spot in you that has your legs lifting and your hands tightening into fists. You hate that you're already so close, so soon, especially from him, the cocky son of a bitch, but you just can't help it.

Your body shudders and you moan, the pleasure making it hard to hold back. And you can just tell that the Commander is smiling, grinning like a fucking moron, giddy with pride and delighted by your torture.

"Fuck," You breathe out, voice weak. "Fuck, fuck-"

"That's it, baby, come on, you're already right there," he taunts you, his voice in your ear, his breath on your skin, and you can't take it. "Come on, baby, come on. Just cum for me."

Gritting your teeth, you arch back, eyes flying open as your body finds its release. It's rough, leaving you gasping and panting and trembling, and Graves makes sure to ride you all the way through until you reach a hand back and swat at him with shaking limbs, growling like an animal. As you struggle to catch your breath, Graves snatches up your wrists and pins them on the floor, his hard cock rocking against your ass.

"We ain't done yet, sweetheart," he laughs, and you groan.

[questysfics]

A Different Kind of Spore

Ship: Joel Miller/Reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple but long smuggling trip turns into something more eye opening when you and Joel are dosed by a strange pollen. But hey, at least it's not the cordyceps, right?

Tags: Sex Pollen, sharing a bed, one shot, age difference, height difference, light dom/sub undertones, name calling, afab reader, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, blow jobs, Joel is a MAJOR munch, masturbation, thigh fucking, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, dirty talk, breeding kink, body worship, breast worship, marking, biting, choking, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, missionary, doggy style, full nelson, resolved sexual tension, overstimulation, loss of virginity, after care

There’s something almost peaceful about being in the post-apocalypse. The cities and safe havens were shit, but when you got your chance to explore the wild outside the walls and sections of limited society, it was almost magical. Mother nature was quick to swallow the world back up, uncaring that her flora covered cars and buildings like a thick forest carpet, and you relished at the sight of so much green, so much life despite it all. 

“Stop all that smiling,” Joel’s gruff voice breaks through your thoughts, drawing your attention from a family of ducks swimming in a decaying fountain. “It’s creeping me out.”

“Your lack of appreciation for the life around us creeps me out,” you tell him with a mock air of superiority. 

The older man scoffs a quiet laugh. You don’t hear that sound often, even though you’re at his side like a lost puppy almost every minute of the day, so you cherish it with a grin. Racing to be at his side, you look up at him with that sparkle in your eyes, the sparkle that just screams ‘I’m going to annoy you’. With a groan, Joel puts his palm in your face and pushes you away, trying to redirect his gaze to the path way as you both trudge onward.

“Knock it off, brat,” he grunts, but you can see the hint of a smile on his lips.

With a dramatic gasp, you point up at his face. “Oh my god, Joel! Your face is cracking!” When he looks down at you, no longer amused, you giggle madly. “Oh wait, I think it was just a smile…”

The older man reaches up to smack you in the back of the head. It’s light, just a warning, and you laugh even as you cup the back of your head for safety.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It hadn’t always been like this though, the first few weeks you had known Joel, you wouldn’t shut up. His presence had unnerved you, something about him shook you to the core. The intensity of his dark gaze, his simple, firm words when you finally managed to get him to respond to your incessant talking. So you filled the void by talking. And talking. And talking. Eventually it stopped getting on his nerves and just became the norm.

And now, he talks to you. He jokes with you. He walks with you. Not like you’re a burden or a tag along, but like a partner. A friend. 

Joel would never admit it outloud to anyone, but he liked you. You were young and scrapy, feisty, tough as nails for someone still so bright. He found you endearing. And attractive. 

Joel almost stopped at that thought. There he went again, thinking about you in a not very friendly way. Or too friendly, Tess would say. Lately, the last few months, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off you. People were starting to notice, everyone around the two of you, but seemingly not you. And Joel was last to find out about his own… affections towards you, funnily enough. 

Even now, as you raced ahead of him and rambled at length about some book you found and read, he couldn’t help but regard you with a softness he hadn’t given someone in years.

You stopped suddenly, almost causing Joel to slam into you. He started to scold you, but you just shushed him and bent to tie your shoe.

He liked the way your body looked when you stretched to tuck your laces- he was convinced for a while you bent over at the waist for him, until he saw you doing it around Tess too, who found it less than amusing. Still, he drunk up the sight of your ass shaped so well in your old jeans as long as possible. He could only imagine how soft the skin was and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of rounding his palms over your ass-

Perking back up from your shoe, you look at Joel; you apparently don’t notice the sharp way he almost snaps his neck trying to look away in time. 

“Are we going to stop soon?” you ask. “It’s gonna get dark.”

Clearing his throat to steady himself, Joel looked around casually. The sun was just starting to dip under the horizon from what he could see through the thin line of young trees. Pursing his lips, he turned back to you. 

“Afraid of the dark, huh?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You know I’m not. I’m afraid of freezing as soon as the sun goes down.” You wrap your arms around yourself and shiver against the chill autumn wind. “It’s already below forty.”

The man snorts. “It’s above forty.”

“Oh, yes, because I forget the great and ancient Joel knows all! Even the exact temp without a fucking weatherman hovering around his shoulder,” you huff with a roll of your eyes. “Regardless, it’s gonna get cold. Fast and soon. We shouldn’t pass up the next safehouse.”

Joel’s never eager to settle down, even for the night, but he knows he needs some rest. And it seems like you do too from the way you drag your feet like you’re struggling to stay up right. And the attitude, he's never appreciated the attitude but it's how he knows you're getting exhausted. Normally he would chastise your lethargic, zombie crawl and piss poor behavior but the two of you have been traveling, on foot, for almost ten hours- the longest trip yet, with an estimated two more days of walking left. 

He gently places his hand at the small of your back as you start to fall behind. You stiffen at his touch, blinking up at him in momentary surprise, as he glances down at you. 

“You sure you can make it, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna collapse.” The subtle smirk on his face has your cheeks warming up so you turn your head with a scoff. 

“The real question is can you, old man?” You smile wryly at him, to which he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I may not be in my prime anymore, but I can keep up,” he murmurs; the hand on your back smooths down just a bit lower, making you shudder, before it’s gone entirely. The absence of his hands and the tone in his quiet words has your heart hammering wildly. 

‘What a tease,’ you think as you trudge alongside him. 

The safehouse wasn’t anything special, just a small one bedroom cabin in the woods. It had started to decay in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but since your group started using it, it was really coming together again. Your touch was special, putting up lights and finding an old radio that you converted to solar power so you had some way to listen to music. Joel and Tess had done the most useful survival needs by adding a large stack of firewood under the wooden canopy just outside the cabin. 

“You go on inside,” Joel says to you. “I’m gonna grab some wood first.”

“No, no, lemme help,” you offer, and Joel knows that tone in your voice- the tone that says ‘you will accept my help’ so he doesn’t protest when you follow him to the pile of wood. 

He smiles to himself as you walk in front of him, eager to gather the wood for the night’s fire. You’ve always had this ambitious attitude to you, but Tess told him that she believed it was desperation to be helpful, to be needed, that your history of being brought up in the apocalypse drilled your desire to prove your worth into your personality like etchings on a stone tablet.

Joel often wondered what it was like for you to grow up the first nine years of your life before the apocalypse, before the collapse of society, then be stuck in it during such formative years. He hadn’t met you until you were twenty-one, and you kept your life before that vague. Not for his sake, but for your own. 

Regardless, he still enjoyed your helpful spirit. Even if you did try to overcompensate for your youth and stature constantly. Like now, when you had a stack of logs in your hands so tall you couldn’t see over them. 

You tried to sneak past Joel with your stack, but he chuckled and plucked enough from your arms to uncover your vision again, which you frowned at. 

“I was doing just fine on my own,” you tell him. 

“I know,” is all he says as he goes back to the pile for more wood.

When he bends to grab more, he notices a small patch of what looked like discolored moss. With an eyebrow raised, Joel sets his small bundle of firewood down and picks up the piece in the pile covered in the strange plant. As soon as the one slice of kindle is separated from the rest of the pile, the moss pulses, sending a thick, yellow cloud of spores into Joel’s face. 

A strained curse leaves his lips as he drops the wood and smacks his hands over his face- his eyes sting and his mouth feels cottony as he stumbles back, tripping over the cutting stump, and sending him to the forest floor on his ass. 

As he tries to wipe his face off, the spore from the moss burning the back of his throat, you rush over. Concern chokes your voice as you kneel next to him and dampen a rag with your canteen. 

“What happened?” you ask hurriedly. “Joel?”

“Something-” He hisses as the cool rag touches his burning hot face. “-something in the wood blew up in my fucking face.”

Even through blurred vision, he can see the sight of your face, the draining color from your expression, before you quickly settle yourself to clean him up. The rag feels shockingly cold, freezing, and his body is already sticky with a sheen of sweat despite the autumn breeze chilling his bones. 

“You’re gonna be okay, cowboy,” you murmur with a soft smile as you clean.

Your hand cups his face to inspect him over, make sure you got everything, and the touch makes him stiffen and grit his teeth. Then, with a smile, you pull away, and he finds himself wishing you’d keep touching him, just a little bit longer. 

“Here,” you murmur, presenting the rest of your canteen to him before standing. 

He takes it without hesitation and gulps down the last few mouthfuls before joining you on two feet. It takes a moment for his eyes to readjust, now clear of the yellow powder, and he realizes you have some on you too. With narrowed eyes, he raises a hand to your face and swipes it off your lip, just seconds after your tongue darts out to clear some of it up. At his touch, you freeze and grow hot, but he quickly pulls his hand away to look at the yellow powder. 

“Spores,” he grunts. “Shit.”

“Well, the spores could be anything,” you murmur, cringing at the taste of it in your mouth- bitter sweet like dark chocolate and yet sour like rotten meat. “Almost all fungi reproduce by spores, and… the cordycep reproduces in temperate environments. But it’s dry out here, and…”

There’s a flash of panic in your now bloodshot eyes as you look to Joel in desperation. 

“It’s okay,” Joel says slowly, calmly. “It’s not the cordycep.”

He’s right. You know he is. The cordycep didn’t look like pastel yellow pollen. It was long dredges of hair like veins that sprouted from the orifices of living things and occasionally anchored itself to walls in high traffic areas. The infection was smart, to some degree, so there’d be no use to prop a patch in random sections of overrun forests. 

“We should get inside,” you finally say after swallowing down your fear. 

Get inside and pretend that didn’t happen and hope to god Joel was truly right. So, with shaking hands, you pick up the firewood you dropped in your panic, and carry it inside. Joel waits a moment, the bundle of the now deflated moss preoccupying him for his thoughts before he eventually gathered himself together and followed you inside. 

The fireplace crackles lightly as you stroke at the embers that are beginning to burn. Joel hasn’t left the couch since he came back inside, which worries you. Normally, he doesn’t sit still, always doing repairs or setting off for the next smuggling job, but now he just sits there. His dark, half lidded gaze is foggy with thought, a thousand miles away, and you want to try to make conversation, want to push him out of his own head, but you find yourself struggling to find the words, any words. With a frown, you turn back to the fire to distract yourself. 

Joel’s temperature is rising. He can feel it like a fever in his body. It makes his bones ache and his muscles sore. But the worst part is he can’t focus. He can’t bring himself to reel his mind under his control. It wanders freely. And dangerously. 

When you stretch to poke at the fire mindlessly, Joel watches closely. His throat tightens at the sight of you, the small section of skin that shows as your flannel rides up tempts him. Your skin looks so soft and-

‘Stop…’ Joel tells himself as he puts his head in his hands. His fingers move through his locks and a flash of desire sparks in his veins like hellfire as he imagines how your own digits would feel grasping his hair, curling at his scalp to pull him closer as he kisses you. 

‘Stop.’ Joel grits his teeth and closes his eyes tight to try and clear his thoughts. But it’s hard when you’re close enough he can smell you, your natural scent filling the room, filling his nostrils, filling his mind. He wonders how you taste. You smell so sweet, you must taste it too. 

‘Stop!’ He’s been hard at work putting you out of his mind when it comes to this context. It was inappropriate of him, but he couldn’t help himself. You cared about him, and he cared about you, and he refused to ruin the genuine friendship the two of you had just because he was pussy hungry. 

But it was more than that. More than just lust. And that��s what scared him. He wanted you carnally, wanted you wholly, to be his. And it was terrifying to him because he was old enough to be your dad and he knew he had to keep you at arm’s length but it was impossible when you were constantly close, hanging to him like a lost puppy. And he found himself looking forward to spending time with you. 

He realized his… attachments to you some months ago. When you were at a bar, celebrating your birthday, just the two of you. And when you were three shots in, you leaned against him and laughed lightly at nothing before pushing your nose into his shirt and taking a soft smell of him. 

That had gotten him hard in seconds. He didn’t know what to do with his hands in that moment, torn between holding you closer, pulling himself away, or pushing you up onto the bar top to fuck you senseless right then and there. In front of everyone, especially the men your age watching you like a bunch of horny teens. He wanted to take you right then and there and show everyone you were his, his, his-

“-Joel?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts. 

Startled, he looks at you, struggling to focus on the concern on your face.

“You’re flushed,” you murmur as you scoot up to him; the smell of you is overpowering and he has to freeze like a deer in headlights to not make any sudden moves. When your knuckles gently press against his face, smoothing up to his forehead as he bows into your touch, you frown. “You’re burning up…”

Joel lets out a shaky breath. “So are you,” he notes quietly, realizing there’s a thin bead of sweat starting to build on your brow. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t take his eyes off yours, can’t seem to pull himself away, and for some reason you don’t either for a long moment. Your chest rises and falls shallowly, your eyes starting to grow cloudy, until finally you force yourself to peel away from the man. 

The contact is missed greatly, but he doesn’t seek out your touch. It takes all his strength to not chase your hand as it moves back to your lap. 

“I should make us dinner,” you mutter. 

Dinner…. Yeah, Joel could eat. More than food. His eyes fix on your lips just a second before you turn back to the fire. If you asked, Joel would devour you whole. He’d eat your fucking heart up if you asked. That’s all you had to do.

.Ask. 

You stand, your legs shaking, and Joel catches the way your thighs clench slightly. He stands too, clapping his knees with sweaty palms as he does so. 

“I’m going to the bathroom, wash myself up,” he says quickly, quietly, drawing your attention to him despite his best efforts. 

“Oh, okay.” You blink at him, bat those pretty lashes over those gorgeous eyes, and smile softly at him. “Don’t be too long. We gotta eat while it’s hot.”

Sinking his teeth into his lip, he nods as he rushes past you and down the hall. You watch him leave, your gaze trailing down his back to his ass where your eyes linger until he disappears into the bathroom.Your throat tightens and you turn back to the fire, ready to distract yourself with dinner. 

Joel does his best not to slam the door behind him as he locks himself in the bathroom. He finds it hard to breathe, his chest tight, as he grips the sink until his knuckles are white. When he closes his eyes, all he can think about is you. All he can smell is you. He feels like an animal in rut, like he was a horny teenager again. 

“What the fuck?” Joel groans as he drags a hand down his face. 

What had gotten into him? Normally he was much more under control than this. He could hold off these thoughts, these feelings, until he was alone. But tonight, for some reason, he couldn’t pretend, couldn’t fight it. 

His zipper was killing him. 

A low, trembling groan leaves him as he leans back against the bathroom wall. He can see himself in the mirror, flushed and sweating, the tent in his pants begging for relief. There was a rolling sickness in his stomach, the pulse of strong arousal almost too much for him to handle. He has no choice. He can’t wait, it’ll kill him if he does. He honestly thinks it will. 

He unzips his pants slowly, teeth gritting together in a hiss as his cock throbs. There was the wish that it was your hands that palmed him through his boxers instead of his own. Oh, the things he would do just to have it be your hands pulling his erection out of its restraints, to have your digits wrapped around the girth of his dick, to pump him.

His thumb smooths over the dribbling slit of his cock to slicken the length; the groan he lets out rumbles deep but quiet in his chest. If he closed his eyes, head tilted back as he begins to slowly fuck his fist, he could imagine it was you. You’d start off slow, easy, just to build up confidence, and he’d pet your hair and tell you what a good girl you were, what a pretty little thing you were, how beautiful you looked. 

Those lashes of yours would bat up at him, screaming innocence, begging for whatever he’d give you- and he’d give you the world. 

Joel sucks in a breath through his teeth as his cock twitches in his hand. The rough desperation of his desires had his body hot and aching, needy. He needed more… His brows furrowed as he tries to think, tries to focus, instead of letting his scattered thoughts run wild. 

One time, he’d caught you after bathing. It wasn’t on purpose, it just sort of happened. The two of you had been out on a run and had gotten a little messy with a small horde of infected, so you had snuck away to wash up while he set up camp. He had gone to fetch you for dinner, worried about how long you were gone for, when he came upon you, you were half submerged, busy with scrubbing the gore from your favorite shirt. Your chest had been just above the water, the edge of the chill pond’s surface lapping at the very bottom of your breasts.

He didn’t mean to creep on you, he had just frozen and by the time he snapped back to it, it was too late. Then, he figured, he might as well keep watching. And jerk off while he was at it. He liked the way you looked, dripping wet like that. The way your hair slicked down and cascaded longer from the water soaked in your locks, sticking to your slick skin like glue. Your lips quirked into a small smile as you scrubbed at your scalp after your clothes were clean, cheeks pushed up to slightly crinkle your beautiful eyes. 

Joel didn’t last long that time and when you finally came back, it took him until the next morning to meet your gaze again. Since then, his fantasizing about you became steadily more and more frequent. At first, out of lust, but now-

Fuck, he needed you. He wanted more than a quick fuck, he wanted you, your body, your mind, your soul, he wanted, needed to be with you. He wanted to tell you everything that he thought about you while he pounded you into oblivion. He’d mark you up for the entire world to see, to know you’re his. Your skin would look so beautiful covered in his bruises, in his teeth marks. 

Joel was… loud. 

You stood with your back to the door, both hands clasped over your mouth as your entire body burned like molten lava. There was no way you were hearing this. Just no fucking way. 

“So pretty-” Joel murmurs, his voice muffled and husky. “Fuck, baby… feels good, so fucking good, so tight, right there, right there-”

Your blood can’t decide whether to flood your face or your cunt but you’re frozen in place, petrified, aroused. Horribly aroused. It hurts, especially when your thighs clench, it feels like your swollen clit is screaming for attention. You wished you could see him touching himself- vaguely you can see the motion of the shadow under the door. He really was going at it, seemingly without a care in the world and truly, you wouldn’t have heard him from the living room but you had come to tell him dinner was ready. 

And now here you are, cheeks on fire while your eyes are clenched tightly closed, and you wish he’d just cum already so you could scurry away. Realistically, you should have left by now and normally you would, but something about tonight has you unable to turn away from this. It takes all your strength not to touch yourself as Joel gets off, and it’s even worse when he says your name. 

Not says it… Moans it, practically whines it. Your fingers close tighter around your mouth and your thighs are trembling, shaking, tears in your eyes as you savor the way your name sounds dripping from his loud mouth. 

Does he see you the same way you see him? He must if he’s pumping his cock like that and crying out your name. It’s delicious. It’s torture. 

He says your name again, but this time it’s choked out. Warbled, strained, and you hear his pace stuttering as he finally cums. It takes you a moment to peel yourself away from the door, your legs still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane but when you do you make a quick exit before Joel can come out of the bathroom. 

"What're you reading?" Joel asked as the two of you ate your dinner; the tense silence settling over the meal was starting to get on his nerves. The deafening ringing in his ears and the thoughts still swirling in his head despite his recent orgasm had to be drowned out by something. 

You don't look up at him, but you do respond. "I was thinking."

"That's what that smell was?' 

You roll your eyes as he smiles joyfully at you, clearly amused by his own joke. "Anyway," You mutter, "the spore we got blasted with is thankfully nowhere near cordyceps. I was… very worried about that, seeing as how we’re both developing fevers. But it's strange. I'm not able to see exactly what it is. That part of my book is torn out."

You lift the mycology book and dangle it for Joel. The picture of the moss and its spore is shown, but most of the description is missing, torn from its rightful place. Putting the book back in your lap, you chew thoughtfully on your lip. 

"It says something about it being harmless but there are 'serious' effects on mammals. Interestingly enough, specifically humans," You tell him. 

Joel frowns and lowers his spoon- his appetite is mostly gone anyway, so he puts the still full bowl on the table and begins to move closer to you. "Wonder what that means…"

His breath was practically fanning over your neck; the smell of his natural musk filled your nose. Heart rate skyrocketing, you sat there, unable to move, like an animal cornered and caught in a snag trap. When Joel leans into you further, his eyes glued on the book, his body touches yours. His leg brushes and presses against your leg as his large hand comes to hold the small of your back again. 

You have to bite your tongue and close your eyes tight to keep in your desperate noise. The pitiful whine dies in your throat, thankfully completely silent, but another part of you rages deeply. 

He’s close enough to kiss you. To hold you and whisper in your ear with that stupidly attractive voice of his, to bend you over the couch, rip your pants down, and claim you right here-

You stand suddenly, almost pushing Joel over. He blinks up at you in surprise but you just give him a tight smile. 

“We should head to bed!” you tell him. “It’s late. Gotta get up early in the morning! And boy, I sure am beat!” 

Humming, you walk casually to the bedroom. You aren’t tired, far from it in fact. Your body thrums with a painful arousal as you drag yourself to the bedroom. Joel normally insists on the couch, so you close the door quietly and strip down to your baggy undershirt and underwear before climbing into the bed. 

Your pussy is aching by the time you drag the sheets over you. There’s a hot fever that gives you the shuddering chills as you curl up into a ball, whimpering and internally begging for the pain to go away. There’s a part of you, a monstrous part, that wants to say fuck it and just beg Joel to take you, finally take you. But you can’t. You have to have self restraint, you have-

The door to the bedroom opens and you almost don’t hear it over your heavy breathing, but you sure as shit hear Joel’s belt hits the ground, his other clothes following suit, before he lifts the covers and climbs in next to you. His bare chest presses against your back as he molds himself around you. One of his arms slings around your waist, his hand dangerously close to your breasts. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pressing against your thigh makes your heart almost explode.

Your entire body is on overdrive. The overwhelming sensation is grinding you down so quickly that it almost makes you sick, and you whimper at the pulse of arousal in your cunt.

“I think,” he breathes, his voice like heaven to your ears, “it would be best if we shared a bed tonight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, voice croaking. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Joel shifts his hand to your thigh, his fingers gently moving up and down the flesh in a torturously delicious way. You close your eyes tight and bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep quiet, to stop the pathetic noises that threaten to leave you. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Joel sighed as he brought his lips to your neck; you gasp and shudder. “Tonight, I just… I can’t help myself. Fuck, tell me to go away. Tell me to leave and I’ll lock myself in the bathroom.”

It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, too foggy with lust on your mind to think right, but finally you mutter, “And if I didn’t ask you to go?”

Joel groans, the sound rumbling against your back and making your clit throb. “Then I’m going to take you, right here, right now.” It sounds like he’s holding back, his voice is tight and strained, almost a growl. The hand on your thigh grips the fat and muscle, a warning, but it only makes you want more. 

“Don’t go,” you whine at him, doing your best to crane your neck to meet his dark, lustful gaze. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, sweetheart.”

“Then show me,” you beg as you press yourself against his erection. You feel it twitch against you as his breathing hitches and, like a taut rope, he snaps. 

His mouth is at your neck, tongue and teeth lavishing the sensitive skin there as he rocks against you; you cry out, your voice hoarse. He holds you steady with his hands on your hips, too focused on your shoulders to allow you to move away from him. 

“I warned you,” he growls against your skin, in between bites and kisses. “I fucking warned you, sweetheart. Fuck-”

One of his large hands goes between your thighs and wastes no time cupping your cunt over your underwear; his palm grinds your clit as his fingers threaten to sink into the fabric to reach your hole. You cry out, bucking shakily into his touch, and Joel laughs darkly. 

“Desperate slut,” he murmurs and that voice, those words, sends a shockwave through your body. “That’s okay. I can work with that.”

The sound of his heavy breathing and your pitched moans fill the room as he begins to palm your clit. The friction is a god send and torture. Your body screams with desire and delight, your mouth watering at the feeling as you try to buck your hips, rock them into his palm, but forces you to still. 

“Be patient,” he tells you in a dark, quiet tone. “Don’t rush this.” You whine but obey. He nods to himself, returning to biting your neck, this time you can feel teeth breaking skin enough for him to lash his tongue over the small wound. “Good girl…”

The hand on your pussy moves and, while you miss the contact, when he rips down your underwear, you make no complaint. Instead of his hand going back to your now naked cunt, his thick, hard cock brushes between your folds. You stiffen and mewl at the feeling while Joel hums in obvious appreciation. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers huskily. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Waiting for you? Had me feeling like a disgusting old man, pining after you, you know that?”

“Jesus, Joel,” you weep, clenching your thighs around his cock as he begins to rock his hips. 

“Shit, even the way you say my name makes me wanna cum.” He laughs, breathless, and holds your hips steady in his hands as he begins to move. The length of his shaft brushes against your clit. 

It’s enough to make you see stars. One of your hands grip the pillow under your bed so tight you threaten to tear it apart while the other finds Joel’s thigh. Your nails sink into the well developed muscle, earning a hiss from the man and encouraging him to buck into you harder, faster. 

“Say my name,” he demands, the words slurred as he mouths your shoulder; teeth scrape against the round of muscle. “Say my name, like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Joel, Joel, please, hah- I’ve wanted you too. So long. So long, never touched another man, only wanted you-”

“You’re a virgin?” he asks; his hips still for a moment before quickly picking up where he left off. The sound of wet skin on skin fills the room, accompanied by the two of you breathing and panting and moaning like rutting animals. “Really?”

“Yes,” you whine as your eyes roll back into your skull. “Didn’t want anyone until I saw you… Joel, please, I wanna cum, make me cum-”

“I’m gettin’ there, darling,” he soothes, kissing at your jaw. 

One of his hands slides up from your hip and to your breast. He molds his palm around your breast, cupping and massaging, until his fingers find your hard nipple. He gives it a gentle but firm tug, earning a cry of his name as your hips stutter. 

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He laughs and does it again, giving your nipple a slight twist this time. Again, you cry out and beg wordlessly for more. Joel is more than happy to provide that. “Mm, fuck. I’ve spent months thinking about how you would sound in a situation like this. It’s even better than I imagined.”

Your thighs clench again. The room is hot, the air feels heavy, the tension of your approaching orgasm is not gentle. It demands more, more, cumming-

Voice dying in your throat, you soundlessly gasp and clench your thighs so hard it feels like you’re milking Joel. He groans, surprised, but doesn’t stop. He keeps rocking, bucking, moving his cock between your soaked folds until your tight body relaxes enough to twitch. 

“That feel good?” he asks, slowing himself down. 

“Yes,” you answer. “But, please. Don’t stop-”

You sit up, shifting to kiss him on the lips. He moans into your mouth as he lets your tongue explore him. Your hands pet desperately at his broad chest as his own hand cups your cheek. 

“Don’t worry,” he says as you pull apart to breathe. “We got all night. And I don’t plan on stopping until I fill you up past your limits.”

Your cheeks, already hot, burn at that statement. Joel, aware that you’re unsure of what to do now, takes one of your hands in his and slowly guides it down to boxers. Since his cock is already out, he allows you to take his length in your hand. It’s slick with your juices and his precum which makes your job easier. 

The sound he makes when you start to pump his cock in your fist is heavenly. His eyes close as he leans back against the stiff pillows and, slowly, his hand leaves your wrist in favor of gripping the bed. His other hand smooths your hip. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he whispers. 

There’s a boldness in your actions when you lift the bedsheet enough to lower yourself down. Joel regards you with surprise, but doesn't dare stop you. His wide eyes focus on you as you settle yourself at his lap. Keeping your eyes on him, you lean in to kiss the head of his cock. His breathing hitches, fingers curling harder in the bedsheets.

Your tongue laps up his length until you reach under the head of his cock where you press your lips and suck lightly. The noise that leaves Joel is heavenly and sends a delight to your clit. His large hand palms the back of your head as you finally guide him into your mouth. His fingers tremble at the effort not to just start forcing you down, but he does curl his digits around your locks in encouragement.

He tastes like how you imagined. Your tongue swirls and pets over every inch it can reach as you take him deeper and deeper, until you finally seem to hit your gag reflex. The rest of his length you take in your hand, pumping him as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Hollowed out cheeks provide the best suction as you move your mouth on him. 

“Fucking Christ, darling,” he pants out. “You’re a natural. Don’t stop… don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Emboldened, you reach up your other hand to gently massage Joel’s balls. He grunts in surprise at this, the noise turning into a deep, rumbling chuckle; your thumb rolls over his balls, gentle but firm, eliciting a low moan from him. The fingers in your hair twist your locks to control your movements. 

“Fuck, where’d you learn that?” he asks, beginning to move your head at his own pace. Your eyes water as he sheathes himself into your mouth fully. 

He isn’t patient or gentle; even though he’s forcing you further down his cock (which has your vision growing spotty), he thrusts his hips up into your mouth. The noises you make are loud, wet, muffled gags as your nails dig into his thighs to hang on for dear life. Your eyes roll into your skull as he throws his head back. 

“I’m close,” he groans, voice threatening to give out. “Fuck, baby, you gonna take all of me? Gonna swallow my load?”

You do your best to nod. The hand not gripping your hair pats your cheek. 

“Good girl. Fuck, hah, I’m almost there, almost, right there, right fucking there-”

His hips jut off the bed, forcing you to take his cock in one swallow. The salty taste of his cum fills your mouth and you do as he asked, swallowing as much as you can while your eyes sting and water and your pussy begs for more. The way your throat clenches around him swallow after swallow has him hard again in seconds. When he pulls you off his cock, your mouth being freed with a loud, wet pop, he groans at the sight of you. 

“Come here,” he murmurs as he brings you to lay on your back. You follow him, allowing him to guide you down. “Lemme return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Ruh- return the favor?” you pant. Your wide eyes watch him as he says nothing, just smirks like he’s going to cause trouble, and helps you take your shirt off before sinking down to his elbows. 

A squeak of surprise leaves you as he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders. Propped up, you watch him intensely as he presses a kiss to your thigh. His teeth nip at the flesh, causing you to shudder, and he laughs lightly. 

When he spreads your lips with his thumbs, you gasp. Not even a second later, he’s mouthing against your opening. His tongue drawls up and down, side to side, not yet touching your clit, just teasing at your wet hole. You squeal, your thighs closing in tightly around his head. He groans into your cunt, savoring the sounds you make, devouring the taste of you and committing it to memory. 

“An…” Your words catch in your tight throat as you lay back fully; hands scrabble to find purchase, the sheets too loose, too hot, so you grab at Joel’s hair, which has him moaning against your pussy. “An aphrodisiac! That… that must’ve been what… what, oh fuck, what the pollen wa-as!”

“Don’t care,” Joel murmurs as his tongue slides up to your clit. He circles around it a few times, edging you until you’re begging incoherently. “Wanted this for too long. Fucking Christ, girl, you taste god damn amazing.”

“Joel, please!” you plead and this time, it’s you who rocks up. 

The older man takes it in stride, eager to swallow you up, as his lips close around your clit. He sucks at it, swirling his tongue over the hardened nub like it was what he was made for. You don’t think you could get any closer to heaven until he slides a finger into your aching hole. The action has you arching your back. The way his digit, quickly met with a second one, pets against your walls has your entire brain full of static. 

He scissors his fingers inside while he sucks hard at your clit. You scream his name, begging, pleading, desperate, prone for him, wanting more, wanting all of him, all he can and will give you. 

The heels of your feet dig into his back as you lift yourself off the bed in an eager attempt to feel all of Joel. He smiles against your flesh and, knowing your orgasm is quickly approaching, hums against your clit. The vibration is the last thing you need to send you over the edge. His name dies on your lips as you gasp and buck like a wild stallion into his mouth. He allows you to keep moving until your body falls to the bed, exhausted but not spent. 

Joel crawls over you, kissing at your neck sweetly before pressing his lips to yours. When his tongue explores your mouth, you moan at the taste of yourself. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says tenderly, cupping your face and rolling his thumb over your cheek. “So fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

There’s an overwhelming wave of emotion building in your chest and you sob out as he kisses you. “Joel, please,” you beg, “please, please, I need you- inside me. Please.”

“Mm, whatever you want, baby.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he sits up and looks down at you. Your body is aching, quivering, ready for him, needing him just as bad as he needs you. Like this, you’re beautiful. You’re everything. 

One hand steadying your hip, his thumb drawing circles over your skin, he takes his cock and guides it to your dripping hole. You take in a sharp breath as he gathers the wetness, swirling it around with his head. 

“Don’t tense up so much,” he breathes out. “It’ll hurt if you do.”

“I’m trying,” you mutter. “I’m nervous.”

With a soft smile, Joel leans down and kisses you softly. “It’s okay. I got’cha. I’m right here for you. I’ll be gentle.”

Sitting back up again, he begins to push his cock into your pussy. You take his advice, trying to relax your muscles as he slides inside, and it’s surprisingly easy. You’re not sure if it’s the aphrodisiac that does it, or Joel, or both, but your body welcomes him eagerly. 

He groans as he sheathes himself fully inside you. There’s no pain, amazingly enough, and for that you know you have to thank the aphrodisiac.

“God, you’re tight,” he tells you gruffly; his hands smooth up and down your body. “Like a warm, wet vice… fuck.”

He arches over you, palms planting on the bed at each side of your head, as he slowly begins to pull out. It’s not enough to pull out fully before he’s pushing abc into you. Your teeth bite your lip as you hold onto his wrists, wrapping your legs around his hips as he sets a slow, steady pace. 

Joel groans. “How’s this? How’s this feeling, baby?”

“Fuck,” you mewl out. “Good, so good, Joel, please… mm- more-”

“Easy there.” His lips meet yours for a moment. “Take it easy, don’t rush. God damn, girl, I wanna savor this.”

His laugh rings in your ear as he pulls one hand down your belly to your clit. The pad of his thumb circles over it, firm but slow. You whine and mewl, doing your best to meet his hips from below him. The way he touches you sparks electricity in your veins, a dangerous addiction to his cock hitting the right spot inside you starts to build. 

He fucks like his life depends on it. Like he’s fucking you into the mattress. Pounds you hard and fast until your breathing comes out in choked stutters. His tongue lavishes your breasts, lips suckle at your nipple, teeth nip at the flesh. 

“Gonne make you cum on my cock,” he pants against your skin. “You want that, don’t you? You wanna cum for me?”

A moan leaves you as you nod furiously. “Yes, Joel! Please, I’m close, please, please, god-!”

“Then fucking cum,” he growls into your ear before nibbling at your lobe. 

Pathetically, you do so almost on command. Your eyes close so hard that flashes of colors and shapeless patterns dance behind your lids. Your nails dig into his back as he keeps thrusting into you, your legs tighten around his hips almost to the point where he can hardly move. 

“Inside me,” you beg. “Please, please, cum inside me, Joel, please-e!”

“How can I not when you-re, god, fuck, when you’re begging me like that?”

He arches back as he cums deep inside you. His pace stutters, jerks, but doesn’t slow down until you feel like you’re leaking onto the bed, so full of him. The feeling is pleasantly welcomed, making you bite your lip as you watch his expression- while in the throes of cumming inside you, he’s even more handsome than before. 

“God damn!” he pants out. “I can’t stop, I need… need to fuck you again.”

Eyes wide in surprise, you don’t even get a moment to breathe before you’re on all fours. He pushes your shoulders down to half way bury your face in the pillow before he’s inside you again, staking claim to your aching pussy. 

“Joel!” you squeal, toes curling. 

The call of his name has him bending over you, morphing him to your shape. 

“Yeha? What’s it you want, baby?” he asks, breathless. “C’mon, use those big girl words of yours… I know you can.”

“Joel, mm, too much… too much-”

His hands are on your hips but he doesn’t slow. “Want me to stop?”

“No! Fuck, god, keep going!”

You can feel him smirk against your shoulder as he wraps an arm around your throat. “Good choice, baby.”

With how tight his arm is around your throat, you have to gasp for air, but you don’t dare ask him to remove the arm. Your hands hold it firmly against your throat, gripping for dear life as he pounds into your already abused pussy. 

“Fuck, you’re so god damn beautiful. Pretty little thing, taking me like a good slut.” Joel groans and nuzzles his nose into your hair. You try to arch yourself, give him more leverage, and he chuckles darkly. “That’s it. Christ, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. You’re mine, you got that?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him. He loosens his choke hold on you just enough for you to suck in a lungful of air. 

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re mine. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours!” you cry out. “All yours, Joel! My pussy is only for you! Please!”

“Good girl…” His lips kiss at your temple as his arm tightens around your throat again. His spare hand reaches around to your front to play with your clit again. You’re dizzy, tipping over the edge, every muscle in your body aching and burning and so delightfully sore. Your pussy squeezes around his cock, eagerly cumming for him again.

The deep groan in his chest rumbles against your back as he cums, the way he breathes and pants seems like his own orgasm surprised him. After a few more hard, jerking thrusts, he begins to come down from his high. The foggy lust that had come over the both of you is dwindling and Joel, ever the gentleman, helps you onto your back again. 

“Christ, you’re all bruised up,” he murmurs as he reaches for your canteen on the nightstand. He opens it and holds it to your lips.  “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you tell him, voice hoarse as a smile spreads on your face. “I liked it.”

“God damn, I did too.” He settles beside you in bed, bringing you close to him. “So…”

“So?” you yawn and blink up at him. 

“How do you like your breakfast?” he teases, kissing the top of your head. 

“With you,” you answer as you lay your head on his chest.

[questysfics]

A Harsh Reminder Or An Unknown Fact

Ship: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader, John “Soap” Mactavish/Reader, John “Soap” Mactavish/Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: Two men interested in the same woman and possibly each other? That could only lead to one thing. An interesting sexual encounter. 

Tags: Creampie, vaginal sex, handjobs, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, voyeurism, f/m/m.

There have been some lingering looks that Simon has noticed over the last few months. With each passing day they became more and more obvious. Almost laughably so. It had become a habit of Soap’s to keep his eyes trained on you, it seemed. The gazes he tossed your way, the longing look that only appeared when your attention was elsewhere, the way he studied you so deeply, so intensely, like it was going to be the last time he’d ever get to see you every time he saw you, had Simon alert. 

Simon was not a blind man, nor was he foolish. He liked John, sure, they were close enough friend’s to be considered mates, But maybe he was reading into it. Maybe he was being paranoid. You were the first good thing to happen to him in… well, a very long while, and that had proven to solidify a sort of protectiveness around you and the relationship you had with Simon. To him, you were the only thing he wanted, the only thing he needed, and while Soap was a good man and an even better friend, he wasn’t sure how to feel about his best mate’s little crush on his girl. He was amused that John still hadn’t picked up on the fact that you were with Ghost, and also annoyed at the fact that Soap had romantic interest in you. 

Some days it served to give him a boost in… testosterone. On days where Soap would try to show off for you (and Simon knew it was for you because, on missions where you did not accompany them, John never went out of his way to show off), all Simon could do was sit back and watch. Observe, like he was so used to doing, so used to being the statue that moved only when no one was looking. Sometimes, it would be so insanely obvious, so hot shotting, that Ghost had to take you as soon as you were free. Had to remind himself, and you, that your relationship was real. At least to the two of you. 

But he wouldn’t put the blame entirely on John, no, he wasn’t that much of an asshole. After all, the only person that knew about you and Simon was Captain Price. Otherwise, it had stayed a (poorly kept, at best) secret. One that the two of you were more than content to keep for a while, even though the relationship was not exactly new anymore. 

Still, Simon’s patience was wearing a little thin. He needed to show John that you were his. His little thing to hold and to please and use as he saw fit. That John could only have you if he was gracious enough to give the younger man permission. 

The first time he let it slip was ecstasy. There was a lull of quiet, a blanket of peace, in the mission. It was the perfect time. Just you, Simon, and John. Simon was keeping watch some distance away, hidden in tall grass while he peered this way and that, leaving you and Simon alone in a sketchy building.

Of course, you had made triple sure that nothing was lingering inside the building, it was stupid luck that not a single person was even inside at the time the two of you snuck in. Now all that was left was to wait for the boat to arrive and take you back to land. But being stuck on this island until near morning left you restless- not like there was much space to stretch your legs when you could run into some very serious cartel members. 

For the fourth time in an hour, you checked your med kit. All the same items were in there. Simon watched you with hooded eyes as you counted and made a mental note regarding the inventory of your medical equipment. Your finger hovered each object as you meticulously organized- rolls of gauze, antiseptic, a couple of shots of morphine, some ointment that always stung to high heavens when you used it, a liquid that smelled so sterile it made his eyes burned just thinking about it. There was more, there was always more, some things he didn’t even know you could use to patch someone up on the battlefield. 

“You’re restless,” Simon said simply, a mild amusement in his tone. “Why don’t you take a nap, chickadee.”

“Can’t,” you reply plainly as you snap your kit closed. Stuffing it back into your bag, you chewed on your lip. “Got too much on my mind.”

Simon’s brows raise curiously. “You do?”

Nodding, you cross your legs and fidget with your hands, eyes glued to the way your fingers pick at the skin around your nails. “About Soap.”

“Ah.” He tries to keep it even, calm, cool, collected, but the noise has a terse edge to it. Whether you notice or not, it didn’t seem to matter. You react as if he had said nothing at all. 

“I think he might have feelings for me?” You look at Ghost now, staring up from under your lashes. “He buys me drinks, gives me gifts, is always texting me, inviting me out to places. I think he’s trying to hit on me? No, I know he’s trying to hit on me.”

Ghost is quiet for a long few moments, lips pursed behind his mask as he thinks. Slowly, he asks, “Does it bother you?”

Shaking your head, you tell him, “No. I think that’s the weird part. I kind of like it. I was hoping to talk to you about all this, but it never seems like the right time. We’re either getting shot at, fucking, or trying to pretend our lives are normal. Never seems like I had the chance to bring something like this up.”

Again, Simon is quiet. The stretch of tense silence is longer this time, harsher, and he can see it makes you uncomfortable as you shift on your butt. Then, he says it, so without anger or jealousy, just a simple question. 

“Do you want to fuck him?”

Caught off guard, all you can do is stare at him. He figures he likes that, the look you gave him, those big, wide eyes, that slight flush on your face, the way your brows stretch, how your mouth opens ever so slightly. It was a cute look, that astonishment that twists your features. He takes a mental picture of it to savor.  

“Excuse me?” you squawk out, a slightly shocked, nervous laugh lilting your words. 

Simon leans into you, his face mere inches from yours, and repeats slowly, huskily, “I asked, do you want to fuck Soap? It’s a simple question, pet.”

“I…” Swallowing thickly, you let your teeth gnaw on your lips as your mind wonders. The images that assault you weren’t unpleasant, that much was sure as shit. “I think I do. He’s a handsome man, he’s always so sweet to me, he makes me laugh. I wouldn’t mind it. Does that upset you?”

Your honesty isn’t surprising. It’s one of the traits that drew SImon to you in the first place, he enjoys the way you’re so blunt, so open. Still, it makes him twinge when you say things like this, in such a matter of fact way. At least, when it came to another man fucking you. 

“No,” Simon says, being equally as honest. “It doesn’t upset me. Not all that much. The idea is… intriguing.”

“It is?” Your brows raise.

Simon nods. “I’ve thought about it. Here and there.”

Though you’re surprised, there is a small smirk that quirks the corners of your lips. “You never struck me as the type to share.” The amusement in your tone makes Simon groan. 

“I’m not,” he tells you with a slight sharpness, maybe just a bit annoyed that you’ve begun to turn this situation around on him. “I trust Soap.” When you don’t say anything, just continue to stare with a shit eating grin plastered on your face, he continues harshly, “That’s all.”

“Oh, is that it?” a smarmy laugh leaves you as you lean against the wall. “It almost seems like you’re projecting here, lover boy.”

“What?” The reply is out of Simon’s mouth before he can clamp his teeth down and shut up. 

Closing your eyes, you reply in an almost sing song tone, “I think you want to watch him fuck me. Or maybe you wanna fuck Soap. Could be both too, that’s always an option. I know I wouldn’t be too upset at either outcome though.”

“You wouldn’t?” Simon asks.

“Would you?” you hum, cornering him and oh how he hates that it brings up so many questions in his mind, so many possibilities. It causes him to think, really think, about what he wants, what he wouldn’t mind at least trying. 

“I’d only let him fuck you under certain… circumstances,” Ghost finally says, almost too quiet to hear. 

That draws your attention. Blinking open your eyes, you cast a glance at him. Now the ball is back in his court it seems, your attention now focused on him, hanging on whatever he could possibly say next, eager and willing and listening. Better, he thinks, he likes being the one in charge. 

“Perhaps,” Ghost drawls as he leans into you- his warm breath, tinged with the smell of cigar smoke, wafts over your face, “I would consider allowing him to fuck you but only if I control how he fucks you.”

Confusion scrunches your pretty face as you try to think. “Control? How would you even manage that?”

His face grows even closer so that his mouth is hovering by your ear. “Fucking him while he fucks you.”

The idea makes your face feel hot as the surface of the sun. Ghost leans away, smirking under his mask, pleased by your equally aroused and embarrassed expression- there’s intrigue there though. The familiar sparkle in your eye, the kind of look a hungry dog would give fresh, bleeding meat. The thought was enough to fuel a shiver that ran down your spine. 

“I’d be down for that.” it’s a statement, a fact, the simplicity in your words so plain and to the point. 

A ripple of amusement causes him to chuckle. The casualty in your tone despite the flustered, eager need in your expression was too cute. Ghost slips his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth, and he presses his lips to yours with force. You melt into him as his teeth graze and nip at your lower lip, promising to bruise the flesh wherever his canines could reach. 

“You wouldn’t mind sharing me?” you coo up at him as he kisses your jaw. “Doesn’t bother you at all?”

Ghost grunts. “It does,” he admits earnestly. “But not as much as it should.”

You hum, the rumble in your throat like a purr against his lips as he ghosts his teeth over your neck. The gesture has goose bumps rolling up your arms, a low sigh of pleasure leaving your chest. With a husky growl, Ghost mouths as your throat. His lips suck at the sensitive skin, nipping and even daring to sink his teeth in just hard enough to earn him a pitched moan. His mouth leaves rings of color behind, littering every inch of your neck, slightly slickened and shiny from his saliva. 

“You’re mind,” he groans as his hands grope at your clothed legs. The palms of his large, warm hands smooth along the swell of your ass, squeezing the fat forcefully. “Mine.”

“But what if I wasn’t just yours?” you said, so quiet and breathy that GHost almost didn’t hear it. “What if you were a good boy and you share me, huh? I’m sure John would like that. Don’t you?”

Simon didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed the belt loops of your jeans and yanked them down roughly, drawing a strangled gasp from you. Yes, the idea of sharing you was a major turn on, as much as it was a frustration- perhaps he found Soap attractive enough to get away with fucking you? Simply, perhaps, maybe, in some deep, poorly hidden part of Ghost, he wanted to fuck Simon too. 

You kiss Ghost, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip. He lets his mouth open, allows your tongue to trace inside his mouth, shape around his teeth, taste his tongue that has the lingering taste of cigar and whiskey. You moan at that, which Ghost takes advantage of and presses his tongue further into your mouth. When the both of you draw back to breath in fresh air, Simon lifts your panties up and off your ass, neighboring them with your pants now around your ankles. He slides in behind you, fitting his crotch against your ass and rubbing the hard tent in his pants against your slick cunt. With a shudder, you let your body lay down fully against the cold floor. 

“I have an idea,” Ghost grunts as he grinds teasingly against you. 

Biting your lip, you look up at him- you’re already sex drunk and he’s barely touched you. “Uh-huh?” you prompt, intrigued in whatever he had to say. 

Ghost raised one hand, his other still resting on your hip, to brush a finger over the com still in your ear. “What if we let him hear us?”

Your face lit up at the idea, eyes sparkling with aroused mischief. “I’m on board.”

A sharp grin splits Ghost’s face. He doesn’t hit the com just yet, it’s far too early in your foreplay to be worth listening to, but he saves that away for later. Preferably when Simon is stuffing you with his cock and you’re howling his name and moaning like a whore. Then he’d spring it on John, just to really rile him up. What a delicious little gift that would be. 

Fingers gently trace up and down your pussy, the warm fingertips just barely slipping through your soaked lips, rough pads ghosting just over your already aching clit. A noise escapes your open mouth, a mewled moan that has Simon’s cock aching. 

He bet John would kill to see this sight, to be the one doing this to you. He wondered if John stayed up at night, fisting his cock to the thought of you, much like SImon had before the two of you got together. He wondered if John thought of the way you would feel around his cock, how your moans would sound, how wet your cunt would be as you came for him, how your back would arch, your lashes would flutter, your skin slick with sweat. 

Simon found himself very willing to share these intimate, private moments if he meant he got to be inside John. A generous offer, he tells himself, and not a completely selfish one. 

Ghost’s fingers slide into your desperate hole. Your walls clench around him and you moan, trying to rock your hips up to meet his lazy motions. He stills his digits inside you, clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

“Take it easy, love,” he hums, nuzzling his nose to the side of your neck. “We got enough time.”

“But I want you now,” you beg, voice terse and pitched. “Please, Simon?”

His cock twitches at that, the sight of your desperate expression and your choked out words making his hard cock ache. “Well, how can I resist when you ask so nicely? Come ‘ere.”

Grabbing your thighs, Ghost pulls you close to him, settling you half way into his lap. Holding you in a gentle but firm one handed grasp, he teasingly unzips his pants. Impatiently, you reach for him, slipping your skilled fingers into his boxers and pulling his hard cock from his pants. He hisses lowly between his teeth at your touch, your cold fingers wrapping around the base of his dick and slowly beginning to pump him. 

Your thumb swipes up the precum dribbling from the tip and use it to slick the rest of his length. He doesn’t dare stop you, not for the moment at least, and soaks in the feeling of your touch on him. Letting his eyes close, he rests his forehead against your for a moment, even letting his fingers return to your cunt. Your motions align for the time being, the gentleness of your pumping hand in time with Ghost’s rhythm. Eventually it’s not enough and you greedily roll yourself up, managing to brush your wet pussy against his cock. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “Come on, take me already.”

“You’re the one who distracted me,” Ghost laughs lightly, but he guides himself into your cunt.

It’s always amazing to see how you fit him and to feel the way his piercings roll against your walls. The warmth of his length stretching you open makes your entire body shudder. Every time feels like the first time, that blinding heat that builds in your tense stomach, the way your heart flutters with eager arousal in your heaving chest, your burning lungs trying to catch your breath. 

You moan lowly, letting your head loll back. Ghost growls, pushing your shirt and bra up so he could suck your breasts. His tongue rolls over your hardened nipple. 

“You thinking about John fucking me?” you laugh, rolling your hips to meet Ghost’s as he thrusts into you. “Or are you thinking about fucking John yourself? Or is it both?”

“Both,” he grunts.

A sultry laugh leaves you as you slip a hand under his mask and fist his hair, tugging just hard enough, at just the right angle, to earn a strangled groan from him. “Fuck, that’s hot. I’d love to take the both of you, or watch you ruin John.”

Ghost pulls you closer to him, hiking you up so only your shoulders are on the ground. The new angle knocks all the words from you, your eyes wide as his cock hits a spot that makes you see stars. Suddenly, instead of banter, all that you can manage to do is moan and cry out. You’re in ecstasy, lost in heaven, drunk on his cock, and you both love it.  

This is the perfect spot, Simon tells himself as he clicks your com on. He can hear the ever so slightly delayed echo of your noises in his own ear so he knows, sure as hell is hot, that Soap can hear. He wants him to, needs him to. He wonders if Soap would have patient and wait until he had absolute privacy to hand fuck his cock, or if he would just do it out in the open field. 

“You like this?” Ghost growls out, pounding into you with reckless abandon; the sounds of his balls slapping against your skin just makes him want to fuck your harder, faster. Makes him desperate to cum deep inside you. 

“Yes!” you whimper. “God, SImon, yes! Oh, fuck- you feel so g-good!”

Your teeth clamp around your lip under it bleeds. The dribble of crimson catches Ghost’s attention and he bends over you, lapping it up before stuffing his iron coated tongue into your mouth. You moan into his mouth, the sound muffled but loud. 

“You think Johnny would make you feel this way?” Ghost asks, voice husky. 

“Mm-” You clench your eyes closed tightly and arch your back further, trying to coax your building orgasm to come. “Yes- oh, Jesus, Simon, yes! God, I want his cock!”

“Better than mine?” Ghost prompts with a wicked, hoarse laugh. 

You try to retort as cheekily as you can manage while your little death draws closer and closer near. “Dunno,” you sputter, “Would… fuck, would have to try it out…”

Teeth sink into the exposed flesh of your breast as wettened fingers play with your clit. Your eyes close tight enough for shapes and colors to build behind them and you cum. Walls clenching around Ghost’s cock, hips jerking to keep up with his pace and rhythm, desperate to ride out the feeling that washes over you so deliciously. 

“Cum in me,” you beg. “Please, please, Simon, I want you to cum in me-”

“Give a lil love to Johnny, won’t you?” Simon asks teasingly, his hands now gripping your waist hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you. “Go on, I’m sure he’d like to hear it.”

“Oh!” Your head is thrown back and your body stiffens. “John, hah- I want you-”

And oh how he wants you too. As soon as John hears the coms crackle to life, he’s alert. Ready for a quip, or a comment, anything but the sounds for wild, passionate sex in his ear. He can’t say he’s displeased, his thought have been clouded by how you would sound getting absolutely fucked, railed, destroyed. He had hoped it had been him in the situation, with his dick sunk in your cunt, but he finds himself just as pleased to listen to his mate give you a good lay- as odd as that was in the moment. 

And when you say his name… Lord, he couldn’t get his cock in his hand fast enough. It’s all he’s wanted for months, since he first saw you really, and it sounded like a siren’s song the way his name rolled off your tongue. The way you choked and moaned, the slapping of wet skin on skin echoing in the background, the desire to at least see Simon spear his cock into you. 

He pictures your breasts bouncing as he, or SImon, fucks you. WHat would your face look like? Flustered and scrunched up, mouth agape as you arch and beg for more, no doubt. Perhaps you’d have that little adorable habit of clenching your tongue between your teeth like when you shot off a sniper rifle. He could see it so clearly that it made his cock fucking hurt.

There was no guarantee that he would ever get with you, but this sure as hell seemed like a good idea that there was a possibility. Even if he had to share, which he certainly didn’t mind. In fact, he liked the idea of sharing you. Spit roasting you with SImon, or double penetrating you, fuck, he just couldn’t help himself. He wondered if Simon would actually be willing, or if he was just trying to tease poor Soap. Shit, he’d even take it up the ass at a chance of wetting his cock in you. 

Leaning back on his calves, John stroked himself faster. He could feel the pulse of his orgasm tensing in his balls, making him moan lowly. That was a fantasy he didn’t expect to make him feel so fucking good. He’d let SImon set the pace if he wanted, John didn’t mind. Fuck, if anything, it’d just be so god damn stimulating. How could he resist that? 

Your legs lock around Simon, pulling him into you deeply, keeping him trapped as he thrusts erratically. You’re cumming again, so quickly over-stimulated and sent over the edge. The balls of your feet press roughly into his back, the muscles of your thighs clenching and trembling. Your eyes roll abc into your head as a pathetic cry is drawn from you. 

Ghost cums inside you. The heat of his load feels pleasant as it paints your walls and leaks out onto the floor (and, to be discovered later, a bit on Simon’s pants). A deep, throaty groan is pulled from the tall man as he empties himself, thrusting wildly until his cock is finally limp. 

There’s silence on the coms as Ghost helps you clean yourself up but, just as you’re twisting your bra back into place and stuffing your tits away, you hear a crackle on the John’s end. 

“I think we’ve got something to discuss once we get back to the mainland?” He sounds breathless, voice low and husky as he struggles to breath.

“Over drinks,” Ghost affirms, earning a giddy, dopey smile from you. 

There’s a slight chuckle from John. “Only if you’re buyin’.”

Breathlessly, you add, “I think that can be arranged.”

[questysfics]

love the way simon can't make eye contact he's just like me fr but what about a fic where reader forces him to make eye contact and he's subby? gn if possible

tags: GN!reader, dom!reader, sub!Ghost, forced eye contact, humiliation kink (mild), overstimulation

“Look at me,” you tell him, voice husky and low. 

Simon’s chest rises and falls as steadily as he can manage, but he doesn’t raise his gaze to yours. Instead, he’s focused on where your cock has disappeared inside your hole. You hum, disappointed, and lean into him further. Carefully, you take his chin in your fingers and turn his head up. 

“Look at me, Simon,” you purr. “Be a good boy and look at me.”

His dark eyes trail upwards, hesitating before finally he locks eyes with you. He’s breathing harder, his hands on your hips squeezing tightly, and you see his head bob slightly as he swallows thickly. 

You smile, grinning ear to ear, and give him a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Good boy. Keep those eyes on me, okay?”

He nods. Normally you ask him to talk for you, you love that deep, rough voice of his, but you know that he’s maybe a little too overstimulated for that.You’ll be gracious and settle for this, the eye contact, the silent acknowledgment. 

Biting your lip, you lean back, hands on his knees, and begin to bounce on his cock. He watches your movements, fixated on your eyes, watching your face, the way your expression twists with bliss as you fuck yourself on his cock. For a second, a split second, his eyes darts to your hole swallowing his cock; you pause while he’s hilted fully inside you, and scowl. 

“Don’t look away,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek. “That’s an order.”

[questysfics]

i just found you today under my recommended and i just wanna say that i’m in love with you work 🖤

Thank you so much!!! You're so sweet 😭 I cherish comments like this augh!

[questysfics]

Hihihi I hope you are doing amazing!!

Is it okay if i request a ghost x reader? They are in 141 task force and like pretty talented and they just beat Simon's ass. Like they are training and they get the upper hand on him and win? I wonder how he and the rest of the task force will react lol

Tags: combat training, mild violence, shit talking

“There’s no way you’re taking him down,” Gaz tells you, wide eyed as you stretch for your training. “He’s a foot and a half taller than you.”

You give him a look, one brow raised and your lips quirked to the side before you roll your eyes. “Men,” you snort. “Always under estimating me. You guys have no idea what I’m capable of, do you?”

“I know you’re strong and can take care of yourself, but, Bones-”

“No buts!” You tell him, touching your toes. “Just watch.”

“Let the girl learn her lesson the hard way,” Price says from his side of the gym. Sitting up from the bench, he puts his elbows on his knees and smirks. “I kinda wanna see this go down.”

“Be my guest,” you tell him coldly. 

Price raises his brows and stands to trot over to you. “Don’t mind if I do.” He leans over to Gaz who still seems anxious about the whole thing and whispers, “Hundred pounds on Ghost.”

"I got two hundred on Bones," Alejandro's voice joins the group. Both Gaz and Price look at him with surprise, but the he just shrugs simply. "I got a good feeling about her. She's confident. That's worth a lot."

"Thank you, Alejandro," You say gratefully; he smiles back at you and nods.

"I got another hundred on LT," Soap speaks up from behind you, causing all of you to turn to him.

At his side, Ghost towers patiently, half lidded, intense eyes focused on you and you alone. The two of you stand there having a stare down until Soap steps between the two of you and clears his throat.

"I've been itching to see this show down, so could we get to it?" He asks with a toothy grin.

You roll your eyes at him and step onto the mat. "I've been dying for this, Simon."

"No patience," he tells you quietly, a teasing lilt in his tone. "That just might be your downfall, love."

"First to pin wins!" Price shouts and then the match is on.

A spark of hot anger flares in your veins as you lurch towards Ghost. He's quick to catch you, though his feet do slide on the mat a good few inches; he has the audacity to lift you up, trapping your arms to your body with a bone crushing hug. Price makes a whooping noise as Gaz gasps.

But that's part of your plan. You know how Simon grapples, and you'll use that against him. Grinning madly, you wrap your legs around him, surprising him, and let your entire upper body go limp. As your weight teeters backwards, Ghost topples with you. He puts a hand out to catch himself so he doesn't crush you which gives you room to duck out from under him.

"Get 'er, LT!" Soap cheers.

"Show her who's boss!" Price adds with a wild grin.

He turns, fast, sweeping out a leg and catching your ankle. You timber like a felled tree, hitting the mat with a wince inducing 'thwack'. Gritting your teeth, you right yourself as quickly as possible, but it's a moment too late, Ghost is already coming at you. Not one to be pinned, you allow him to ram into you. Your arms close around him and you angle yourself just right. You can see the confusion in his eyes as you lean back, and though he's so much taller than you, slam him backwards into the ground behind you.

"Shit!" Soap calls out.

"That looked like it hurt," Gaz winces.

He's dazed and you take that chance to crawl over him, sitting your entire weight on him. He struggles against you, but you have the perfect hold on him, keeping him in place just long enough to get the pin.

"That's it!" Price barks. "Thats a pin!"

The entire gym is silent. The buzzing of the lights overhead is the only indication that you haven't gone deaf. A grin splits your face as you stand. You've won.

"Way to go!" Alejandro laughs boisterously. "I told you she could do it!"

You hold out a hand and Alejandro slaps you a low five. Soap just stares at Ghost, who is laying there like a dead man, big eyes fixed on the ceiling. Gaz is slack-jawed as Price sputters.

"I'll take my winnings in cash," You hum with a smirk.

[questysfics]

KONIG CONFESSION IM BEGGING i need to see how this cripplingly shy babygirl would admit his feelings omg

Tags: fluff, a little bit of angst

There is so way he should be doing this now. Right here, right now, in the middle of a battlefield while under heavy gun fire, but he's doing it. The words are slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them, no matter how desperately he tries to shove them down- just wait, just wait, he tries to tell his brain, but it's too late.

"I have feelings for you."

You look up from the laptop, eyes big and wide as your jaw drops. He stares back at you, just as surprised, no, shocked, as you are.

"What?" You choke out.

"I-" He starts, stops, gapes like the dumbfounded man he is. "I am sorry. I did not mean to say that out loud. I-I don't know what came over me!"

He starts to ramble, his words melding into his native language, trying to dig himself out of the hole he just jumped into. Sweat beads on his forehead, his skin prickles with anxiety, and his heart is hammering in his chest. Embarassment flushes his entire face and he's so upset with him, for putting you in this situation, for forcing this on you, for thinking he even had the shred of a chance with someone as smart and beautiful and kind as you.

"Forget I said anything," he says, voice strained and throat tight.

"Konig," You say softly as a hand squeezes his knee. "Do you mean that? Having feelings for me?"

The look in your eyes startles him but he nods slowly. "I do," he tells you in a whisper. "Is that... I am sorry if you do not feel the same-"

"I do," You tell him with a toothy grin. "Oh, big guy, I've liked you for a long time. I just didn't think you'd like me back."

"How could I not?" He asks, taken aback. "You are everything a man like me could ask for! You have always treated me so... nicely." He has to gather all of the courage in his body to get the next string of words out, "When this is over... may I take you out on a date?"

"I'd love that," You purr, bashful.

[questysfics]

Could you make a sub Phillip Graves x dom male reader? I’ll leave it up to you on what you write, I trust your judgment. (If you don’t want to it’s totally fine)

Tags: anal sex, hate sex, humiliation kink, rough sex, name calling, mentions of fingering, top!reader, bottom!graves

The handcuffs keep Graves firmly anchored to the bed. Though his chest is flushed pink, he's still glaring up at you like this whole situation is your fault. Like he didn't come to you seeking a cock to fill his hole. Like he didn't moan when you wrestled him down and pinned his wrists over his head, didn't beg for your touch while you ripped his shirt off and stripped him of his pants, didn't practically cum while you hastily lubed up his hole. The noises he made when you probed his needy ass with your slick digits were delicious.

Really, it just makes you giddy as you stare back down at him. He's trying so hard to pretend he's still in charge, still tough and macho, but really, to you, right now, he's just a desperate whore. He knows it. And he knows you know it.

"You gonna fuck me or what?" He spits out, cheeks red.

"Haven't decided that yet," You hum as you lean back on your calves. The slick head of your cock brushes against his hole, rubbing small circle before you pause and look at him. "You want me to fuck you?"

He grits his teeth at that and tries his best to avoid eye contact. "Yes," he chokes out.

You grab him by the jaw and force him to look at you. "Then beg for it, slut."

"Jesus Christ," he groans. "Just fuck me already."

"Nicely," You growl at him, hand trailing down to his throat as a warning. Snearing, you add, "Or else I'll leave you here like this for your men to find. Wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Please," he manages to squeeze out, embarrassment obvious in his tone even as his cock twitches and dribbles desperately. "Please fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

You pat his cheek. "Good boy."

Your cock slides into him with ease, his body more than ready and willing. He hisses, sucking air through his gritted teeth as his head falls back. For a moment, you think about going easy on him, but then you remember the bullshit he's pulled and how he deserves this, he's earned a rough fuck that will leave him walking funny for days. A personal reminder of pay back.

Gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, you begin to thrust into him with a brutal pace. He cries out sharply, eyes flashing open in surprise before rolling into the back of his head. As you fuck him, his legs slung over your shoulders and hips raised off the hotel bed, you roll your hips just right to make him moan- his loud noises fill the room, coupled with the slapping of your balls against his ass.

"Jesus!" He cries out, cinching his eyes tight as his fingers curl into his palms. "Fucking Christ!"

You lean over him to admire the way he falls apart as you pound into him. His face twists, contorted in pleasure, as he tries to buck with your pace. You don't dare touch his cock, even though he begs you, pleads with you, and you feel him clench around you as he cums. His load paints his chest and belly, earning a shuddering cry of your name from his trembling lips as he arches.

He's shaking hard by the time you sheath yourself fully into him and empty into him. He groans, thigh muscles tense as he takes your seed deep into him. Panting, flushed, and fucked raw, he lays there, staring up at the ceiling.

"What a fucking cum whore you are," You laugh breathlessly. "I bet you'd let me pump into you all night, wouldn't you?"

He bites his lip but nods. Grinning down at him, you begin to slowly thrust into him again, earning an agonized but pleasured moan from the man under you.

[questysfics]

Graves is the kinda man to eye you up and down when first meeting you and use a horrible pick up line. Even after like when y’all start dating he’ll just blurt out “hello darlin did you drink your coffee yet or are you just excited to see me with them big ol eyes!” Like just really obscure specific ones you’ve never heard

The longer you know him, the worse they get. 

At first, they’re basic but they make sense and get a little laugh out of you. The typical pick up lines that middle school boys think will work. 

“You got a mirror in your pocket? Cause I can see myself in your pants.” “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see.” “Love the pants. They’d look better on my floor though.”

He thinks he’s so clever. He really does. Is so proud of himself every time you smile or roll your eyes or put a hand on his face to push him away in exasperation. Any little reaction he gets out of you makes him more stubborn about it. 

Then the worst thing happens… he runs out of good ones. Then, even worse, he runs out of the bad ones too. He has to resort to making his own up. 

Graves has no rizz. Absolutely none. So his made up lines just come out awkward and fumbled and don’t make a lick of sense. 

“Is that a banana in your pocket or are… wait, shit, I didn’t think this through, hold on.” “Are you wearing a bra because… uh, no, that’s terrible, wait-”

They’re actually kind of endearing. Stupid and lame, yes, but endearing all the same. 

The team tries to give him pointers all the time, but it just doesn’t help. 

[questysfics]

Hello, luv! I hope that’s your having a fantastic day (if not I do hope it brightens up!!!), and wish you a wonderful week. I’m a fan of you writing and was wondering if you could cook up some headcanons with a Medic!reader who sleeps around and offers comfort to all the COD boys. Medic exclaims that they need to make sure the boys sexual and mental health is good too. Whether that be cuddles or a having the boys run a train on them.

It doesn’t start out as well communicated as you would hope. The guys definitely start out a bit… territorial. 

At first, it’s just Ghost and Soap. It was a total accident the first time, just a night where the tension snapped and you got your back blown out and your holes filled. They work the best together, like their minds are on the same plane when it comes to fucking you. 

Then Price gets added into the mix and it’s a little difficult at first, but still goes smoothly. Gaz gets involved shortly after and he’s level headed enough to not rock that boat (is the one that loves cuddling after sex the most.)

When Alejandro joins, you have to sit them all down and lay out the ground work for a healthy, stable relationship (platonic, FWB, romantic, whatever it may be). 

You’re honest that, while you enjoy the sex as much as them, you do this for them to meet their (and your) needs since you’re almost always together and/or out on missions. Hard to form stable relationships when you can’t really settle down. 

It’s healthy! That’s how you justify it anyway. And it is, after a few maybe awkward days, it goes surprisingly smooth after that. 

You’re going to get gang banged on the regular. Absolute cum dump. 

Gaz and Soap want to just be with you the most, skin to skin, holding hands, soft kissing, simple dates. 

Alejandro likes to just lay his head on your lap while you play with his hair. Sometimes sings to you while you do so, soft, low, gentle singing. 

Ghost enjoys your massages. You’re pretty fucking good at them and he’ll come to you any time he needs a gentle touch. Just sits down and sighs and slumps his shoulders and you eagerly work his sore, tense muscles. 

Price is a little more old fashioned and feels like he needs to woo you. Movie and dinner dates before he absolutely ruins you. 

There’s a group chat filled of pictures and videos of you getting railed, nailed, and fucked. You save a lot of them just to… reminisce when you’re away from the boys. 

[questysfics]

how would konig react if y/n got seriously injured?????

Tags: injuries, descriptions of wounds, fluff, angst

Konig is horrified. The blood in his veins runs like ice, his heart stops, his brain screams.

The bullet cleanly slice through your shoulder like a hot knife through butter. Blood splatters the wall behind you as you’re thrown back against it, a silent cry of surprised pain leaving your mouth soundlessly.

His heart slams into his throat as he races over to your now slumped form; he kneels beside you, shaking hands reaching towards you.

When he turns your face to him, your eyes are glassy, blood dribbling from your slightly parted lips. The noise that leaves him is shattering, a shuddering cry at the sight of you now pale and gushing blood.

“Stay with me, Doctor,” he begs you, voice trembling and cracking. “Please. Please. Please-“

Konig won’t let you go until you’re being after lifted away. He holds you to his chest and begs in both English and German to not leave him, please, not here, not like this, don’t leave him alone, don’t die on him, don’t die.

Will never let himself live it down. He thinks it’s his fault you got shot, believes it no matter how many times you assure him it wasn’t, but will never bring it up since it upsets you so much.

Is at your bedside the entire time you’re recovering. Does not bother to eat, to shower, to shave, he needs to be here with you at all times.

He showers you with as much affection as you’re comfortable receiving. He holds you, massages you, reads to you, pets your hair, helps you get dressed, helps you do things since your arm is now fucked for a while.

Every time he sees the scar, it hurts him deeply.

Vows to never, ever, allow something like that to happen again.

[questysfics]

Can I request some voyeurism with soap and ghost? Reader and them are in a safe house and she goes to take a bath and ✨let off some steam✨ and they hear her quiet moans and can’t help but try to get a peak. (Btw you’re like one of the BEST smut writers on here!!)

Tags: masturbation, voyeurism

There's one thing nobody realizes about the safe house until after you've excused yourself to get washed up and that's that it has cameras. A lot of then do, that's not the unique part, it's the fact that there's cameras in the bathroom. Multiple too, not just one, several different angels, even hidden in the big beautiful mirror and, more interesting, in the corners of the spa tub to give the perfect view.

Soap is the first one to notice that little fact as he flips through the cameras mindlessly. Your naked image flickers on screen for a second before he switches past, but he stops on the next camera, one of the living room, and blinks his big, wide eyes in surprise. There's no way he just saw what he thought he saw-

He flicks back to the last canera and there it is. Your almost naked body. Almost because you're in the process of removing your bra, revealing your breasts as the fabric drops to the floor.

Soap sucks in air through his teeth, feeling his cheeks grow hot at the sight as arousal pulses in his cock. You look content, relaxed, as you slip out of your underwear and toss them to the pile of clothes on the ground. As you sit on the edge of the tub, you dip your fingers into the slowly filling bath and make a face before turning up the heat another degree or two.

The fog from the heat raises and threatens to obscure the view but surprisingly doesn't- who ever built this place must've had that thought in mind. Soap criticizes them for a moment before realizing he's taking advantage of the opportunity. He's just as guilty, he knows that, but he can't help it, he's had it bad for you since day one.

"Johnny, I'm getting curry, do you want-"

Soap snaps his head to face Ghost, who's standing the door way frozen. His eyes are uncharacteristically big as he stares at the screen.

"I wasn't-" Soap fumbles, wildly looking from you as you slip into the tub with a sigh, and Ghost who is enraptured by the image on the screen. "This wasn't on purpose-"

Ghost steps up beside him, staring at the monitor with hawk-like eyes. Soap nervously, quietly, stands next to him, trying not to move like he's facing against a bear. The stretch of silence is painful to John, he wishes something would happen, that he had the courage to say something, but he just stands there, dumbly, unsure, brain wired to the sight of your wet, naked body lounging in the warm tub. You're scrubbing your hair now, breasts raised just above the water line, skin dripping and shiny.

"Jesus," Ghost breaths out as his shoulders slump. "What a fuckin' sight."

"It was an accident," Soap explains, still fumbling over his words. "I was just flipping through the channels and- shit, we shouldn't be watching this. I'm gonna-"

When his hand reaches for the power button, Ghost grabs his wrist hard enough to bruise; Soap snaps his head up to look at his lieutenant, surprise rushing to the front of his mind.

"No," Simon says simply, focused fully on your bare body. "I'd like to watch. You're free to leave, Johnny, but I'm not gonna miss this."

Soap doesn't move. Neither does Ghost. Both men are breathing hard, eyes glazed over as they stare like they're studying you. That's when you seem to perk up a bit. Your eyes open and you seem to flustered slightly, lip captured in your teeth as you lean back into the tub. For a moment, both men are confused, until you hike up a leg onto the ledge of the tub.

"Fuck," Soap groans. Ghost seems to agree with that sentiment because he leans into the monitor for a better view.

It's hard to see with the layer of bubbles on the surface of the water, but it's easy to know what you're doing. The water starts to splash ever so slightly against the sides of the tub as you seem to rub your clit. Your head lolls back against the rolled up towel behind you and your mouth opens slightly. Your chest is rising and falling, breasts moving with the panting.

"Wish this thing had sound," Soap mutters, earning a dry laugh from Ghost.

"You and me both, Johnny. Fuck, just look at that."

Your face contorts as your other leg pulls itself onto the lip of the bath. Theyre shaking now, your legs, the muscles in your thighs trembling as you try to hit the right spot. One of your hands scrambles to grab for something, first slipping along the edge of the tub before grasping onto your heaving breast. Your fingers squeeze at the fat, pull at your nipples, as you rock your hips up.

It's making a bit of a mess. Water sloshes out of the tub and splashes the ground, soaking the bath mat.

Soap feels his erection strain hard against his pants. When he glances at Ghost, he sees the familiar shape in the lieutenant's jeans. He almost considers just taking his cock out right here and now, just to see what would happen, but you're putting on way too good of a show to ruin it.

Instead, he swallows thickly and pretends his zipper isn't killing him. Next to him, Ghost groans as your body arches. The look on your face is perfect, beautiful, enough to make Simon weak in the knees. The way your mouth opens to gasp out and the way your arm moves, desperate for release, is delicious. He wishes that was him giving you this bliss, this pleasure, but watching it unfold is almost as good.

You cum, biting down on your lip hard enough that it draws blood, a trickle of it dribbles down your chin. A doped up smile spreads on your face as you sink into the bath, obviously content; bubbles pop around your head as you sigh out.

Ghost is turning on his heel before Soap can even process that you've finished.

"Where are you going, LT?" He asks.

"Gonna see if she needs a hand cleaning up, Johnny."

[questysfics]

he's playing fortnite and drinking cola :), also absolutely no ass on the man kinda disappointed but at least he's packing

I refuse to believe that he doesn’t have a giant, juicy ass. he does, it just had to be censored for the sensitive gamer boys out there

[questysfics]

könig is soo fine and i'm obsessed with how he's described as a mountain of a man but i finally played him in warzone and was not prepared for his voice to be that

He's got a little silly Austrian voice, he says things like "yippeee!" And "my propeller hat" and I love it

[questysfics]

So I have two fics coming this weekend when I have time to polish them up a bit! One is a soap x reader x ghost featuring sex pollen and a graves x reader hate fuck 😈