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montcumbry-gaytor · 2 years ago

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Can you do a Dom/Frank woods x Sub/male reader, where both of them are having their first time and woods being to rough with his lover.( Or you can do whatever place they can have fuck at thats my opinion) also love your amazing work and its talented. Woods needs all the love.

Come out and play

frank woods x male reader smut

FEM ALLIGNED DNI || MLM/NBLM TARGET READERS

A/N : Had me kicking my feet tysm for the compliment 🫶🫶 and yes I 100% agree Frank deserves a whole lot of love and I geniunely think he's so silly 🫶🫶

CW : Slightly OOC Frank, First Time Sex, Mentions of Hallucinations and Night terrors.

You and Frank had been together for.. a while, now.

He had been a stable of your mental health when you were struggling, the night terrors, the hallucinations, odd memories of things you thought never happened.

You struggled with it far too often, and when you did, Frank was there to help you through it, albeit not in the most professional way.

Though you both cared for eachother you both never..

Had sex.

You assumed you never had time for it, considering your line of work, it was kind of understandable, but the longer you and Frank dated the more the want festered in you.

"Bell, You have that report ready?"

Adler asked, looming over you, He always radiated such a powerful energy, almost wary of you, but it always seemed to soften around you, it felt like.. Pity.

Though you never minded it much.

"Bell?"

"Oh- Sorry- I'm.. not having a good thought process right now, can't get focused."

You admitted, holding your face in your hands, huffing out a breath of frustration.

"That's okay, Bell, Just have it in my office before Friday, alright?"

"Got it.. sorry."

Adler hummed, patting your shoulder before walking off, seemingly to chat with Park, who sat at her desk, feet propped up against it.

Startled out of your thoughts, You whipped around, Your shock melting away as frank stood behind you, hands planted on your shoulders.

"You good?"

He asked gruffly, Thick brows upturned with concern, icey blue eyes piercing into yours, he could see your frustration, even though your face was hidden through the Balaclava you wore.

"Yeah- Yeah.. I'm okay, Just lost in thought, Thanks Frankie."

You said, your eyes creased as you smiled, watching his ears tint a shade of red that you would only see on him.

"Do you want to head to the hotel for the night? You've been here for a while."

"Yeah, We can go, I have something to talk to you about anyways."

You sighed, Grabbing your bag from beside your chair, stuffing your unfinished report into it, amongst other things that sat at your desk.

"Okay."

Frank said, sounding lightly concerned, though it could only be something you would pick up in his gravely voice.

Time passed, you and Frank had slipped out shortly after saying bye to Adler, Not that it was necessarily required, but Adler himself told you he felt it was necessary to know you were gone, You never understood why.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, Accompanied by the rain pattering on Frank's windshield.

Lights on the street lined your path, until the small hotel crammed between a convenience store and a Bar made it's way into your view.

"Bell? —Bell?"

"Oh- Huh?"

You hummed, shaking yourself from your thoughts once more.

"We're here."

He said, Prompting you to hop out of the vehicle, shutting the door and letting Frank lock it behind you, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride, Frankie."

You hummed, bumping your hip into his teasingly.

You made your way inside, Being quiet as you navigated the halls, Making sure not to wake any sleeping residents of the hotel, Due to your line of work, It was easy,

Using the keycard to unlock your hotel room, Frank held the door open, letting you enter before slipping in himself, locking the door behind him.

"So, you had something to say?"

"I want to have sex with you, Frank."

Silence carried your words, though you kept your stare, the air in the room felt thick as his adams apple bobbed, a sigh slipping from his lips.

"I can understand if you wouldn't want to, but.. I love you, and i want to do more than just.. kiss you, It sounds silly.."

"—Bell, Listen, I want to too I just.."

He trailed off, Clearing his throat.

"I've never had sex with a man, before."

"Oh.."

It was quiet again, Frank looked away sheepishly, Running a large hand over his neck.

"Well, I haven't either, So it could be a first for the both of us."

You said, Stepping closer to his anxious frame.

"I mean, Yeah.. but I don't want to hurt you, Bell, I don't want to get carried away and make you hate it."

"—Then.. let me take lead."

You stood in front of him, taking his hands in yours and placing them firmly on your hips, running your hands up to curl around his neck, playing with his hairline.

"I can take my own pace, and you wouldn't have to worry.."

You hummed, your gaze never leaving his.

"A-Alright.."

He said, Defeated by your persuasion, pressing his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?"

"-You know you don't have to ask."

"I know."

You hummed, Pulling your balaclava off your head and dropping it to the ground, Your lips connecting with his, Your tongue slipping into his mouth to search for his.

Small groans tangled in with your gasps of air, rolling your hips in hope of any friction, much to your delight, Franks leg slipped between yours, Providing relief.

"Fuck.. Frankie.."

You whined, Running a hand through his dark black hair, tugging lightly in your wake, The mess of each others limbs stumbling backward onto the bed.

You pulled Frank's jacket off quickly, both of you kicking off your shoes into the floor, never taking your hands off one another.

Swiftly, you flipped each others positions, hands caging on either side of Frank's shoulders, Heavy breaths escaping your kiss bruised lips.

You struggled to pull off your coat, fumbling with it in a hurry, you shucked it off, kicking the cargo pants you wore with them.

Frank bit his lip as he watched you strip your boxers off and toss them away from you, crawling between his legs.

"You don't fucking understand how much I've wanted to do this.."

You sighed, Unbuckling his belt before tugging his pants down, tossing them into the floor with the rest of the inevitable pile.

His erection pressed through his briefs, twitching in anticipation, Frank sighing your name under shaky breaths.

"Patience, Frank, You of all people should know that."

You hummed, kissing the inside of his thigh teasingly, watching him shudder, slipping your fingers beneath his briefs and pulling them off, his cock springing out, tip grazing over his stomach.

"Fuck.. you're big."

You said, running the pad of your index finger over his length, tracing the veins before pressing your lips to his tip, hearing him groan at the sensation.

Warily, you wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue ran across the bottom, slowly taking him in until his tip reached the back of your throat.

You could hear him struggle to keep his moans in, You could feel and see his muscles tense and constrict as you began to bob your head, working what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hand.

"Fuck... You're doing amazing- ah—shit.."

He cursed under his breath, running a calloused hands through your hair as he struggled to keep his composure, Pressing the crown of his head into the pillows.

Pulling your mouth off, you slipped your fingers from your free hand into your mouth, jerking frank off as you wet them, pulling them out after you were satisfied, your mouth returning to suck Frank.

You slid your hand behind your back, slipping your fingers to prod into your hole, slipping in with ease thanks to your saliva, and.. other things you would never admit.

You let out groans that vibrated in your throat as you curled your fingers into yourself, forcing yourself to breath through your nose to keep you from choking as frank rutted into you.

Satisfied with your work, you pulled off, Frank's helpless groan made you smirk, You slid your slick fingers out of yourself.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

You asked, holding Frank's hands in yours once more, bringing your hips over Franks as you looked at him, his stare showing just how much he cared.

Cared about you.

"Absolutely."

He hummed, placing a hand on your hip, thumb stroking at your scarred skin, Slowly, you guided yourself onto his cock, your breath hitching as he reached places you didn't know existed.

"Ooh.. fuck.."

You grunted, rolling your hips against Frank's, your mouth hung open as you struggled to catch your breath.

"God- shit.."

Frank groaned, his grip on your hip tightening, with hesitance, you slowly began to rock your hips at a pace, rolling them as you slid down, making you feel fuller than the last time.

You both struggled to keep your voices down, Frank's free hand sliding up your chest, pulling your shirt over your pecs to cup and play with them, though struggling to keep the shirt up, you took the hint and bit the hem of your shirt, keeping it up as he fucked into you.

"God- Baby you feel so fucking good— ah.."

He groaned, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave bruises in his wake, His cock twitching inside of you, you could tell he was close, because you were too.

"Fuck- Frank.. I'm gonna cum- please~ "

You whined, chest heaving as you teetered closer to your release, letting airy moans whisp past your teeth as you bit into your shirt, your body halting as you came to your end, Shockwaves running to each of your limbs and your body heat finally hit you.

It didn't take long for Frank to meet his release aswell, pulling out of you and cumming over his stomach, the both of you panting as you came off your highs.

"Holy shit... That felt amazing.."

Frank sighed, rubbing circles into your bruised hips, a grin still on his lips as you leaned in to kiss him once more.

"We gotta do that again sometime."

"Hell yeah."

A/N : this is slightly OOC but I really couldn't find any other way to write it, I hope this was acceptable and I hope y'all enjoyed!!

#frank woods x male reader #smut #male reader #male reader smut #cod #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #cold war

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sonyanightmare · 5 months ago

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This is a multi-fandom story I been working on and off on for a long ass time lmao!

But if your interested in me writing more of it, lmk pls, the encouragement helps a lotttt

(Things that are highlighted are mostly for myself to help keep in mind of the timeline and when/where certain events happen but yous can go by them too if yall want)

-Btw none of these images belong to me, credits go to original creators/artists-

Immortality vs Love: Which do You Choose

Keep in mind about the timeline era

Team Fortress 2 takes place in 1968, and the storyline extends up to 1972.

Cold War: March 12, 1947 – December 26, 1991

Tf2 started and ended in the middle of the Cold War according to the actual historical event and the game itself: TF2 official comics help know what happens

Random storyOc x Sniper +18 content: includes possible sexual themes, detailed gore, etc., multi-alternate universe crossovers (cringe-worthy)

!Read at your own risk!

(most likely going to be an unfinished story anyway, haha)

More research to one of few of my main OC story timelines where she takes place during the Vietnam War/Cold War, so that some characters will come from the Call of Duty franchise, specifically the Cold War.

• TF2: 1968-1972

• Historical Vietnam War & Cold War: Vietnam; 1955-1972 CW; 1947-1991

• Call of Duty Cold War/Vietnam War: 1968(during both wars)-1980s (atomic Bomb tensions) might be mentioned

Love Over Immortality

“Ya bloody wanka!” Sniper had woken up from his nap to the feeling of his hat being taken off his face, where he had placed it to shield any possible shine from the afternoon sun.

The Aussie should have known better, for the only woman on their team would always do something like this to the Marksman. She and the Sniper were close, though their bond was so tight the rest of the Mercenaries were getting irritated that neither of the two made a move. It was obvious that they liked each other but damn the annoyance that the team even tried to help them get together, from leaving the two alone at the base while the rest went into town to mixing up their sitting spots at the dinner table so that they were sitting next to each other. But enough about the impossible couple to happen.

The woman that caught the Assassin’s heart was Sonya Nightmare, and it’s now the second year she has been with the R.E.D team. The team is close to her, although the team doesn’t know her painful past and secrets. They were so close to her, yet they knew little to nothing about her. That doesn’t stop her from enjoying as much time with them as their mortal lives will allow.

Sniper had gotten up from the chair he was napping on as he saw Sonya look at him with that adoring smile as she placed her free hand on the wall side where a door could be. With the other hand that held his hat, she teasingly shook it behind her back as she turned the corner and ran, hearing the familiar sound of boots clicking the wooden floor as they ran towards her, not even close to catching up with her. She giggled the whole way, turning corners sharply as she let Sniper catch up to her now and then, looking back to see a tripping friend trying to do those sharp turns. This continued until she arrived at the destination of her choice; it was Snipers’ tower. Sonya thinks she has lost Sniper, so she climbs the ladder to try and hide her cornered self. But the sound of those boots was getting louder and louder. She backed up as much as possible, hitting her back on the small table in the shadowy corner.

The window nearby may be boarded, but it gave off enough lighting in the room to see a possible shadow below if the sun was high enough. The Sniping from the window was perfect from enemy fire. But the two were in danger because they ran outside the base and into the battlefield, on their side at least; who knows if neither their Spy nor the B.L.U enemy Spy was near.

Sniper finally made it up the ladder, plastering a playful but sinister grin on his handsome face. Sonya played around with her bottom lip as she giggled with a speck of pink that was dusted on her face. His forehead was littered with scraps of sweat, and his breath was raspy; he must have been exhausted chasing her throughout R.E.D’s side of the battlefield.

“You’re a real pain in me arse, love.” Sniper led out a breathy response as he walked long strides toward Sonya. Biting her bottom lip with a smirk, she backs up as much as she can, hat still in both hands behind her back.

“Am I too much for you to handle, Mundy sir?”

“Ya know bloody well you are, Shelia.” Sniper was almost chest-to-chest with Sonya, her question lingering in their small space. Standing straight, Sonya was only an inch or two shorter than him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he tried to distract her by leaning dangerously close to her face. She’s seen this trick before and got out of the mini trap she was in, and the marksman was playing a game of ‘try and catch me as the long-haired woman and himself chased each other around the sniper towers’ space. Finally, Sniper caught her and pinned her to the boarded window, not realizing their position.

Mundy had pinned Sonya’s wrists with the left on top of her left and his right on top of her right, his chest touching her slightly arched back, and his private area sat firmly on her curvy bottom. Sonya’s hitched voice made him realize their awkward position, but he didn’t say a word to her. They looked at each other for a moment, Sonya breaking contact first as she quickly looked down, then back to him, then to his slightly chapped, parted lips. Without warning, Sonya arched her back, pressed her firm ass more onto his pelvis, and started to grind slowly and roughly. Letting out a deep breathy grunt, Sniper began to do the same and pressed up against her body. Both let out occasional moans as the man rested his head on her shoulder; neither looked at the other as they started getting rougher in their grinding. Mundy let go of one of her wrists and placed his now free hand firmly on her hips, Sonya reaching around and holding his neck as she leaned back and went directly onto his ear, letting him hear her delicate moans more clearly.

Mundy then let go of her other wrist and onto the other side of her hips, forcing her to grind more. Mundy started to lightly kiss and lick at her neck and earlobe, causing her to let out more shaky breaths and moans and hold onto one of his hands that grabbed her hips, dropping the hat. He made Sonya turn relatively fast, almost impatient. He lifted her, her back against the boarded windows, and they continued to grind on each other, a prominent bulge causing friction between the two of them, creating a symphony of moans. Their faces were close, but neither pulled the other closer, letting their hot breaths run all over their flushed faces. Sonya grabbed Mundy’s vest and pulled it off him as he carried her to the small table not far from them. Sonya was laid out for him as they grew closer to one another’s faces; her struggle with his belt left him in a breathy laugh, and he started to take it off. The belt was off, and the pants were loose enough on him that they were beginning to slide the faster they ground. Sonya grabbed the sides of his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her, and they could not stop staring into each other’s eyes. As Sonya was about to pull him in for a kiss, they were interrupted by none other than the Engineer himself.

“Sniper Sonya, y'all up there?” Mundy almost ignored him and was about to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing a singular finger on his lips. He knew Sonya was too kind-hearted towards the Texan to ignore.

“Y-yeah, we are Dell. We’ll be down in a moment.”

“Alrigh’ then darlin’. All I wanted was to know ‘cause dinner’s ready.” The sound of his boots distancing from the two started to fade.

“Bloody hell Sonya, that was too close. I’m sorry, love.” Mundy finally spoke as he grabbed his belt, then the vest and hat.

“Oh, do not worry yourself, Mundy. It will pass by momentarily, so do not be so paranoid.” Mundy was confused as he watched her fix her silky, smooth black hair and set her kimono. She had already finished going down the ladder as she waited for Mundy. Once he was down, they started walking towards the home base as they walked and chatted the whole way to Dell’s delicious dinner.

Sonya had always been such a mystery to Mundy, the whole R.E.D and B.L.U teams. Coming to the hidden base in the mountains without a record of any sort, she’s a ghost to them. All the team knows they are the slight hints she says in her stories or when she was a part of some critical and dangerous military group (must be Special Forces, they all thought). Spy could not find even her military records, nothing under a Codename Altair or her actual name, anything! All the Frenchman found were photos willingly taken with a specified group, the time during Vietnam, but that war is still ongoing. Even if they have a lead from Spy, how would they know where to look for one of these two men? One looked rough and beaten but still could kill, and the other, despite all the cuts and dirt, had slick black hair with the eyes of a sharpshooter. Only one person knows, and she sits right next to their Marksman at the dinner table.

Dated flashback; 2 years, seven months ago

Day 1 at R.E.D

The car ride to base was quiet, even a little too soft for Ms. Pauling's taste. Now and then, Ms. Pauling would look from her driver’s seat to the woman in the passenger's seat, wondering if she should say anything. Being a woman experimenting with relationships, she wasn’t sure if what she was feeling towards the woman in the kimono was a little crush or something else. Ms. Pauling wasn’t sure what her increasing heartbeat was from, to begin with, not from the tense atmosphere or from the attractive woman that sat next to her.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started, breaking the silence.

“Oh, uh, yes, dear?”

“What is the team like?” Sonya turned her head from the window to look at the woman in purple.

“Well, from what you told me, you’re used to being the only woman on a team, right? So this is a mercenary group of men.”

“Hmm, so nothing new I have to worry about then,” Sonya said, smiling kindly toward Ms. Pauling.

When the woman in the driver’s seat looked at Sonya, she couldn’t help but blush at how kind she was, especially when she smiled so nicely.

The drive was quiet as it was long, and even the small conversations were still awkward, but it helped the two become closer, hopefully in a future friendship.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started as she looked over at the woman in purple.

“A-ah er, yes, what it is?” Ms. Pauling responded, looking at her with a smile and then back on the road, awaiting her question.

“What are these men like, might I ask?” Sonya questioned, looking outside through the driver’s seat window to avoid the awkward silence lingering in the vehicle.

“Well, most are foreign men. I should warn you if the accents are too much-” Ms. Pauling started ”-One comes from Russia, the deep snowy mountains; one’s a German medical scientist; one comes from Boston, the marksmen come from Australia, and the last is a french man who’s stealth is as skilled as his flirts for women -womanizer- that you should try and avoid, in my opinion.”

“Ah. A German Scientist and a French Spy?” Sonya sounded irritated and almost displeased when she looked at the woman in the passenger seat.

“Well, the German is nice, but he is sorta out of it- a psycho when on the battlefield, and the French man, he’s known for his actual skilled fighting compared to the others, and he can make you fall for such careless charms so please be careful around that one.” Ms. Pauling answered, sounding worried near the end.

Sonya smirked at the thought, “Oh, Ms. Pauling, please, I don’t fall for careless charms and those trying to earn my hand. Besides, you know very little about me; you have no idea what I’m capable of...”

_____

When the two arrived at the base, Ms. Pauling pulled their little truck into a small but perfect spot in the shade of the trees around them; Soya was greeted with the fog-like aura of nature. The sun settled low enough that the bottom barely grazed the distant mountains. The slight squeak of the car as the truck door reared opened and finally stepped out for a well-deserved stretch of relief. This base location was very different from the desert Valley one Sonya was for sure going to until he met with Ms. Pauling. 'Hardwood' was this locations name. It was a nice area, and Sonya was most for sure going to enjoy this future battlefield experience.

"Hopefully the team is waiting behind the volt doors for us; as I made it clear to them, by calling twice yesterday, they should be eager to introduce themselves to you." Ms. Pauling sounded a bit agitated at the 'calling twice' part.

'Must be something that happens often,' Sonya thought holding back a chuckle as she followed behind the woman in purple.

___

"Agh! How long we gotta wait for Pauling to get 'ere, huh?" Scout was walking around, waiting impatiently for the two to show up.

Spy then sighed in annoyance and shook his head, leaning against the wall a freshly lit cigarette rested between his lips. Medic was seated on the couch trying to ignore the Boston man as well. Heavy was with Pyro, Demo, and Engineer in the kitchen helping set up a small variety of the food presentable for their new addition to the team. And the only other member of the team was most likely hiding away in his camper or room within the base that he basically never uses coincidentally right next door to the room their new Mercenary will be sleeping in. We'll not for a long while for the poor quarters is still under deep cleaning of useless stored items and decor, trying to find somewhere to put these items at.

"Zhe more jou complain, nerviges kind, Zhe more agitating jou get Scout." Medic was finally able to speak up after trying to make sure what he was going to say to their newbie about sleeping arrangements. He had the small Hospital beds in the Med Bay, he just hopes that will do for now.

"Well, what 're ya gonna do about it, huh, doc?" Scout taunted, spreading his arms out in a 'come at me stance' towards the German.

"Zhat's it!" Medic grabbed his bonesaw not far from where he stood and started at the Boston.

Scout was running and tripping around the room, dodging a few of Medic's swings and managed to trip just out side the exit area and startled the two women, Scout almost hitting at the bottom of Sonya's Kimono.

Sonya instinctively moved in front of Ms. Pauling blocking the commotion but nothing of danger happened other than the Boston man grunting on the floor from the impact.

Oks das it lol 🤷🏽‍♀️🙃😂🖤

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway—shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M’close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader

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leavemealoneplsandthx · 6 months ago

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Hey guys!

Hopefully some of you made the switch to the black ops side since I made my last post!!

I just thought I would add a link to my own story on ao3! Some of the chapters are better than others but this is the first fanfic I’ve written since 2015 so just keep that in mind 😚

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incidentallysunny · 6 months ago

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Through The Skin

Real Uncle!Leon

Dead dove warning.

7k word count. Proof read lightly. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I'd like to appear in the tagz pls so here's a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing fxcked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don't be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, age-gap, overall just some disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, public female oral-recieving, Leon has dick piercings surprise, make and female oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, spitting, any probably some other irrelevant shit I'm forgetting my bad.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it's a long one.

To be quite frank, you didn’t give a shit about a single holiday party that your parents threw. Having to hug and touch on people you didn’t even know, putting on a fake smile and pretending as if you remembered them at all. Exhausting for a young woman to keep up this charade for so long. You’re sure your relatives noticed the dying spark in your eyes over time. Living Growing does that to a person. You spent all night fetching beers and other pre-packaged, alcoholic drinks- hoping he would show up every time you had to hand one out. Still one less face you’re can be enthralled to see.

You sat at the dining table, leaned onto an elbow with your face in your palm. Clearly a dejected and annoyed pose but everyone here was too cheery or already deep in the ‘special occasion’ wine bottle to even piece that together. Your other hand traced the ringed patterns in the wood surface, wondering how old it had been before it was chopped down ruthlessly by some hot guy with a chainsaw who was getting paid way too much to be fucking up nature left and right. All so that some college-aged girl could sit at the furniture it had been made into and sulk. God, an almost 40 year old tree. That’s pretty fucking old. You’re glad it lived a somewhat long life (in human years, not tree years.) ‘Cause some trees live a few hundred or even thousand years. So maybe it was taken too soon before it became the placeholder for your familial drunken talks. While you were distracted, annoyed, and pitying yourself, the table all erupted into ‘Hey, long time no see!’s , laughter, and other delightful sentiments that were jolly and deafening enough to make you jump. Loud noises weren’t your thing.

Before you could regain your composure and turn your torso in the hand-carved, deep-brown varnished chair- a hand graced the presence of your slumped shoulder.

“Hey, babydoll. Long time no see.” The voice greeted, husky and rough like a patch of concrete you’ve definitely scraped your knee on a time or two. Basically, it was familiar, which is what you’re getting at.

Uncle Leon.

You turned your full body now, swinging your legs to the side of the seat- a few laughs slopped from the table.

Everyone knew how much you loved and fawned over your Uncle- your dad rivaling how much you seemed to prefer his brother over him. Well duh, dad. It’s because he’s fun and you’re a hard-ass. And ugly to look at. Your poor, poor mom.

It had been years since you saw your uncle. Since you were freshly 18, to be exact. Your dad wasn’t too keen on having him around his barely-legal daughter- probably because he could practically smell it on you that you want your uncle to pop your cherry. You still remembered his few quirks, too. He was always sloppy yet casually drunk wherever he was, he hated fireworks (due to PTSD as your dad explained), and he had always been known to be grabby with people- probably because of the alcohol. He was a weird guy, but you loved him all the same. It broke the normalcy of your home and made things interesting to be around him. However- none of this was the focus. His stubble, dark-liquored bags under his eyes that almost resemble eyeliner, and dark-tinted hair were. And god, his chin. Could be a replacement for a Sybian, if you had one. All of that aside, he looks sexy. That’s so fucking weird to say about your dad’s brother, but calling it weird is also so outdated. Fucking your hot, middle-aged uncle is in; getting a boyfriend your age is out.

You stood up swiftly, hugging him tightly around the waist and almost toppling him. He chuckled, steadying himself with one arm around your back and the other on the table to catch himself. Once he felt he was steady enough, the other arm joined around you- the embrace squeezing you like a stress ball. You worried that your eyes might be a little more loose in your skull than before.

“Gotta be careful, kiddo. You’re gonna take down your uncle one of these days.” He teases, moving out of the hug and letting his hands explore their way down your back- resting on the small of it. Digits perched like a bird where your back starts to curve into your ass- not sweetly or gentle- but like one of those huge-taloned hawks that would rip your flesh off. You only say that because his hands are big and rough- and you’ve heard stories of what your uncle does for work (plus the alcohol is making him need to stabilize himself so he doesn’t crash you both into the nearby counter and cause any serious brain injury. At least then you could excuse the bubbling of strange feelings as TBI). Oh, and with how handsy he was known to be (Just ask your Aunt Claire on your mom’s side). But he had never been that way with you- not until now.

You see your dad eyeing him like the same kind of big-taloned hawk from across the table. They’re cut from the same feathers- except your dad must have been the one that never learned to fly. Pushed out of the nest by a sharp shove of a beak and bit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. Cause he’s a lot weaker and uglier than your uncle. How he pulled your mom is a miracle and a mystery.

“Hey, uh. Honey. Come sit back down. No need in playing into your uncle’s fashionably late, drunken stupor.” He quips towards you while grilling Leon about being late, nursing his own drink with that ugly grin. You roll your eyes. Leon removes his hands from you- putting them up in defense of himself and leaving your back with an empty feeling.

“Hey, hey. Just hugging my beautiful niece.” He turned to address you again. “Been years since I’ve seen you, sweetheart. Look even better than your momma.” You feel a blush creep up at Leon’s words, but your dad clears his throat and your mom pays him no mind. Just an eye roll and sip of a wine cooler. To be honest, even she probably fucked your uncle. You couldn’t blame her if she did.

You huff and sit back down, crossing your arms. Your dad always had to ruin everything. If you fuck your uncle or kiss him or whatever and don’t like it, you can just go to therapy. Leon snickered behind you, patting your shoulder before leaning in next to your ear.

“Come join me out on the deck in a bit. I’m sure you’re tired of being smothered in here with the fun police.”

You feel muggy from his words. Like a Louisiana swamp type muggy. Is your hair sticking to you? Are there zika-virus bearing mosquitos pricking you or is that just undiagnosed anxiety?

You bounce your leg under the table while you hear the sliding door open and close in the distance. Minutes pass of you twiddling your thumbs- and you excuse yourself to sneak off- exiting out the same heavy sliding door that Leon used.

When you sealed it behind you- the smell of whiskey filled your nostrils- sizzling off any hairs that your nose so proudly grew for much needed germ-protection. A hand slapped itself gracelessly onto the glass above you in the dark, trapping you in place. Predictable uncle.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart. Lost my footing. Y’know how it is. I’m always taking spills here and there.” You felt giddy and blistered all over, speaking back to him.

“S’okay. Sorry about dad.” You excused, breathing in. Leon’s other hand patted you low on your hip as he chuckled into your ear- sending off more whiskey breath.

“It’s okay, sweet thing. Your dad can be that way. I’m not exactly safe to be around in his eyes. Besides, he’s just doing his job- looking out for his little girl.” He explains, not making any efforts to move. You predicted this- but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why’s that?” You dare to ask, sounding purposefully puzzled- but Leon knows better. And you know the answer.

“It’s ‘cause your Uncle likes ‘em young and pretty.” He mulls the information over you, the words sliding down you like a vibration that sets off a perfect sensation to your already throbbing clit. Because you’re always horny. The hand on your hip now kneads your ass under your skirt- somehow getting there without notice.

“O-oh.” You choke on the word like it’s quicksand in your throat- but only the quicksand is the prospect of having your uncle plow you until you develop early onset dementiaSo really, the quicksand isn’t bad in this instance. You jump into it face first for a good mouthful.

“Shouldn’t be wearing something so short when you know your dirty old uncle is coming over. Can’t keep my eyes where they’re supposed t’be.” He mutters low, leaning down to tickle the shell of your ear with his voice.

“Knew you were coming over. I wanted to look pretty for you.” Saying it makes your head spin, but like in the good way. The sound Leon makes is between a groan that says ‘good god, I’m going to bury my cock inside you right the fuck now’ and ‘I figured as much’. A simple cocktail of horniness and knowing.

“Mm, just want to kiss you everywhere, you know? Love it how sweet you are.” He murmurs into your scented hair, using the hand from the wall to push aside any strands that are in his way. He kisses the back of your neck and his breath scorches your skin. The affection is sloppy and leaves small bits of saliva behind, his barely-darting-out tongue making you ache even more.

“U-uncle.” You shuddered, a slight protest to your voice. Not ‘cause you don’t like it but because you’re worried someone will see. Or that you’ll never want off of his dick. He can be your personal IUD, all buried in your cervix.

Leon ignored the shared thought that someone could see because the way you referred to him made his dick jump in his jeans. Plus, the whole family knows he’s a sleeze. They’d see him balls deep in you and say ‘Ah, that’s Leon for you’ And look the other way until his next sexual prospect. One of the many reasons that Aunt Claire doesn't visit and Aunt Ada divorced his ass. Her loss. You’d happily share him if it were you. It’s only right to share a man that looks like a washed-up pornstar. His dick is great too. Not ‘cause you’re guessing- but because you saw it one time. Last time you saw him actually- the whole incident that left you wanting to see him again oh-so-badly. He had stumbled in the bathroom to piss- ignoring you at the sink. It’s whatever, he was totally wasted and probably didn’t see you. Nor did he probably see the fact you were gawking at his big dick. Or his nice ass, cause he had let his pants drop completely in his hazy state.

“Mm, what is it, babydoll? Hey- Think anyone’d notice if I fingered this sweet little pussy right now?” His voice cut through your memory and thick, long fingers teased the swell of your pussy lips through your underwear, making your hips contract with excitement. Your breath fans over the glass and smogs it.

“I don’t know- maybe.” You huff, trying to keep your composure. It sure is fucking hard when God’s gift to women is about to finger-fuck you at your parent’s house with 20 or so family members inside the property. You second guess yourself now. Maybe God's gift to women doesn’t go around playing with a pussy that belongs to their niece. Or maybe God was fed up with some girls missing out so he created sexually-attractive uncle’s to even any scores. You’ll be attending church this upcoming Sunday. Not because you’re going to follow through with blood-related fornication but because you want to thank the higher-ups properly for this fine piece of ass you’re about to receive from. Or maybe you shouldn’t step foot there, the whole ‘bursting into flames for egregious sinning’ type thing. Wait a minute- there’s literally daddy-daughter incest in the Book of Genesis, so you’ll happily sin away and tell god to fuck off while doing it. Okay maybe that’s a little uncalled for.

Leon tugged your panties to the side, breathing shakily.

“Fuck. I gotta see it, baby.” He mumbles, dropping to one knee with the other bent and still supporting the front of him. Underwear aside, he uses his hands to spread you out- taking in the sight of your damp folds. Damp is putting it lightly. His thumb collects some of your slick and he nearly cums right there.

“You save your first time for me?” He questions. In his mind, you’ve already had a dick or two. He can work with that. Those little guys your age don’t match up to him, but he’s blindsided when you whine about being a virgin, begging him to stick it in or something. Now, Leon’s not the greatest guy morally. At all. But if he’s going to pop your pussy like a soda cap for the first time, he’s going to do it in private cause he’s not stopping for anything. And privacy allows just that. Again- it’s not about it being special, just private. He’ll turn you out good and well.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanna fuck this needy hole when it’s just us. Think you can wait?” He asks, before darting his tongue out to taste you and lapping up any of you that’s continuously dripping out from pent-up arousal. Your knees almost buckle and he puts his hands under the curve of your ass to hold you still. Your brain goes so mushy you almost forgot to respond.

“Y-yes, uncle Leon.” You whine like a pathetic puppy- begging for something that it didn’t need. But actually, you did need your uncle’s dick so badly. He laughs against your cunt, seemingly happy with that answer. Before you can properly nut like you want, you see your dad pass by in the distance of the sliding door. You tap the glass gently to alert Leon with a small series of clicks. He shoots his head up, yanking your panties back into place and using the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his mouth.

“Fuck- always such a blue-balling asshole for anyone, I swear. Sorry, pretty girl.” He smooths down your hair, making sure you look presentable. Well- besides your face that’s red enough to be used as a lit flare.

“Go inside. I’m sure he’s looking for you, babydoll.” He grabs you drunkenly by the upper arm, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Come by mine sometime. I’ll be home, for once.” He mutters the last part, loosening his hold on you and starting down the steps of the deck.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Uncle Leon.” You sound so disappointed and miserable. Pouty. Leon gets it.

“Later, babydoll.”

He heads down the path of the backyard and through the connecting gate that leads to the driveway, the sound of his motorcycle’s engine revving is the cue that he’s definitely headed off.

You let yourself back in, acting inconspicuous. But your dad is already waiting with crossed arms. Yuck.

“Did I not tell you several times about hanging around your uncle. He’s a weird guy. I don’t mind him coming over but, god.” He lays into you, mostly just insulting his brother. You roll your eyes as you normally do. You’ve never not had an attitude with your father. He was born to be shit on in your eyes- barely deserved your mom, as is. Besides, He had no backbone whatsoever.

“Just go upstairs.” He asked, cause he never told you to do anything. Just asked and hoped you’d listen. You were pleased enough to have gotten as much as your uncle tonguing your cunt, so you can comply a bit longer. You go upstairs to your room, shutting the door and lying down.

—

It’s a week later when you finally get to see your uncle. You managed to convince your dad to let you borrow his car, ‘cause you’re a broke college student and can’t afford that right now. Plus you’re spoiled but not enough for a car, apparently. Whoops. Probably because your dad knows as soon as he signs the papers, you’re going to drive to his brother’s house and impale yourself on his dick for life. He’d rather you go to college and get a train ran on you or something, at least.

You hoped you had remembered the right place at first, until Leon’s motorcycle was spotted in the lot. Good, he’s home. You still questioned your memory as you were walking up the flights of stairs in the apartment building, tugging down the back of your skirt when you felt it was airing out your ass too much (for any passerbys, not Leon). After reaching the 12th floor and navigating the scarily clean hallway (the few decorations in the area made it less horror-esque), you found the right (?) door. Your knock was soft because again, you weren’t entirely sure. Just going off of childhood memories.

After hearing a shuffle inside, it didn’t take long for it to swing open, Leon standing in the doorway shirtless with a pair of grey, thin sweatpants loose on his hipbones. His v-line was saying hello to you. Hello to you, too.

“Pretty girl! Hey! Thought you’d never come by. Sorry about the attire- been having a lazy day since I’m off work.” He moved aside for you to come in, the door shutting behind you when you accepted the unspoken invitation. His place was nice. A little cluttered with a half-packed suitcase; clothes messily thrown on top and some paperwork and a passport in a heap on the desk nearby, but still nice. Not to mention spacious. Thank god.

“It’s okay, really. You deserve some relaxation time, you know?” You try to be cool and collected- not getting to the main point of your visit. Even if you did have genuine interest in your uncle as a person.

“Isn’t that the truth? Want a drink?” He asked, already walking towards his kitchen. You don’t immediately reply because the sway of his ass is… something else, but you manage to snap yourself from the hypnotizing gaze of it. He’s got a whiskey glass and bottle already on the counter, waiting for a reply.

“Sure.” You tell him, knowing damn well you can’t handle your alcohol. You get all fucking lovey and touchy, and you’ve only drank like 3 times. And sure. You did come here to fuck him, but you were nervous. Okay, never mind. That gives a complete need for liquid courage.

He makes his way to the hallway- switching something on the AC control before sitting on the couch, adjacent from the chair you’re nestled in. You’re taking small sips of the whiskey, burning your throat, sinuses, and any nervousness down like a forest fire. Leon just sits, legs splayed apart like how men always sit. Except you can see his fat-ass dick print. God, kill me now. Or after I’ve sucked it, at least. You see, too, what looks like indents in the fabric- piercings maybe? Or the folds of the pants are sitting weird.

“Did you find the place okay?” He asks, coming off like he cares- which he does- but he’s mostly waiting to get you and himself sloppy for fucking so he’s just stalling now.

You nod, bottom lip tucked into your mouth- if you talk it’s going to be about his dick being huge or his dick being inside you. Leon allows you another deep sip, finishing off the liquid completely.

“I actually remembered how to get here just about perfectly.” You spoke, laughing a little. Yeah, you’d be gone completely in a few minutes. You already felt yourself slipping into a hazy, bubbly state. Leon could tell, too. Good for him. He loved when the girl was sloppier than the pussy attached to her.

“Smart girl. Always have been.” He took a long, heavy drink- finishing off his glass. You watched how his stomach twitched or moved even the slightest when he adjusted himself, the same with his arms. He was muscular yet lean- like he didn’t eat enough some days. Figures. Beauty isn’t easy and he looked good, and maybe that’s why he got plastered all the time so easily. No appetite=no tolerance. However, you were most certainly not afraid to look at the hard work. Even more so with alcohol brewing in your stomach acid and then liver.

Leon patted his leg, fingers drumming on the material of his sweatpants.

“Come sit. You can tell me more about it on your uncle’s lap.” Gross. Gross in the hot way. The gross-hot way you want him to fold and twist you like a pretzel. So no, you don’t abhor the idea of sitting in his lap.

You don’t even hesitate, standing and nearly falling over- realizing you forgot how wobbly your legs could get while inebriated. Leon reached forward to grab your hand and waist, letting you fall directly onto his lap, ass to crotch. Like a puzzle piece. An incestual puzzle piece- which ideally shouldn’t fit together but it just does.

You feel his cock twitch under you; he’s anticipated this, obviously. His hands slid up your thighs, and down again, then back up- like he’s appreciating them.

“Got the prettiest legs, baby. Want them on your uncle’s shoulders, don’t you?” He cooed, scooting you to the edge of his lap just enough to get his cock out of his bottoms. You turn to look behind you, twisting yourself a bit to get a look at it. Christ. One, he was big. The kind of dick that couldn’t stand ‘cause it was heavy and long. Two. It had a few piercings down the front of his shaft, gleaming in the light. So not only were you about to take your first dick, but a pierced one (like you had suspected). Okay…you didn’t remember seeing those the only other time you ever saw his dick by accident. New additions.

Leon stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Trust me, feels a lot better than it looks. I promise it doesn’t hurt. Even for virgins.” He adds, like he knows that for a fact. “Nothing you can’t handle for me.”

Okay, he’s right. You’d take his fist if it meant his approval, honestly. How bad could it be?

You move to spin yourself around on his lap, Leon’s amused at your eagerness. He holds his cock, spitting down onto it so he can stroke himself while he puts a hand onto your neck. You’re pulled by the hold into a slow, messy, spitty kiss. He’s definitely experienced, as you are not. His tongue makes its way against yours like he’s silently teaching you how to kiss him open mouthed. Not so hard, you think. He groans into your mouth as he handles himself, maneuvering his cock to brush against your underwear; prodding your clothed clit under your skirt.

You mewl against his lips which only spurs him to kiss you a little more rough now, assuming you’re ready for it. Which you definitely don’t mind. His hand squeezes the side of your neck affectionately, a thumb tracing the skin. You’re thankful you’re in his lap because your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. It was an exchange of sighs and heavy breathing- no distance. Your hands tangled into his dark locks which is something that Leon loved; having his hair pulled (you could tell by his lusty growl and the shift of his hips). He truly was the epitome of a kinky, dirty old man. If pushing 40 was old. Well, to be fair, you did call the dead tree of a table at your parent’s house old, ‘cause it was 40.

He pulled off of you, your now un-joined mouths drippy with saliva.

“Get in between your Uncle’s legs. Wanna see that pretty mouth on this cock.” He urged, and you found yourself with your calves folded under you in between his parted thighs. He held his cock proudly, and to be honest, the piercings look daunting. How did you even expect yourself to suck on it like you’ve seen in porn? Maybe you should have spent more time watching guys with pierced dicks instead of the step category. You had a preference, clearly.

You snaked your hands up to him, holding his cock with a puzzled look clear on your face. Leon laughed, not like he was laughing at you but the way you laugh at someone when you think what they’re doing is cute.

“Don’t worry about them too much, gorgeous. Just do it how you think you would normally. But pay careful attention with your tongue. Won’t hurt me any, promise.” He reassures you thoroughly, chuckling through a sexually intense gaze. Okay, it seems…. easy enough. Didn’t know dirty old uncles could be so sweet about having their dick sucked.

You lean forward, Leon guiding the head to your mouth.

“Just go slow and focus on the tip. Don’t want my girl to be uncomfortable, now do I?” His girl? You liked the sound of that. Enjoyed it very much. You’d be his girl wherever and whenever. You took him past your lips- suckling on the tip softly and swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that- fuck- you’re doing great, babydoll.”

The praise edged you on, and you managed enough confidence to glide your tongue down his shaft and over the piercings- flicking over them pornographically. You felt like it was just right. If fucking your uncle could be right in any way of the sense. Leon groaned and his head fell back onto the couch. A large hand found its way to your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. You discovered that it wasn’t too daunting- it was possible to bob your head a little while keeping your tongue exploring the piercings in small swirls and flicks. Just makes your jaw a little tired faster. Besides, seems less scary than taking it inside you.

It’s an alternation of the previous movements and kitten licking up the front of him, and the adornments on his skin only seem to make everything feel much more stimulating. His breath deepens and he guides you now with your hair in hand- looking down at you through deep-brown bangs.

“Fuck- that’s it. Just look at you, dirty little niece I’ve got here, sucking her uncle’s cock like she was made for it. God- so damned pretty with your tongue on me.” His head falls back again for a moment, before he sits up- his labored panting evident.

“Christ. Okay- can’t take it anymore. C’mon, baby. Up.” He says, smacking your bottom when you stand in front of him. You’re feeling a bit ‘five seconds away from crashing into the coffee table and impaling yourself on the broken wood’ type of drunk now.

“Uncle Leon’s gonna pop that cherry, got it? Now sit down and let me lick that sweet pussy. Can still taste it after last time.” He’s speaking filthy things you should hear and run in the opposite direction from- but you don’t.

“My room. Remember where that is?” He mumbles, standing behind you now while he runs his hands down your sides- possessively grabbing at any fabric on you.

You shake your head no.

“Can’t remember. Need you to show me.” You whisper to him, putting your hands over his on your sides. He just muffles a laugh into the crook of your neck and shuffles you along in front of him, the two of you almost falling over multiple times on the way to his bedroom. You’re sure that something did get knocked off the wall at one point, but you literally do not care in any way.

Leon staggers you into the room and pushes you back onto the bed, shedding off his sweatpants. Naked, no boxers. Just full, thick cock and a trail of hair leading up to his belly-button that you haven’t let your eyes leave for however long you’ve been here. Oh, and muscled thighs. One of the greater parts of a man. His hands find their way to your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed before invading his thumbs into the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off.” He grunts, pulling them down your legs and tossing them only for the undergarment to land in an unseen place. You go to tug off your skirt, until his hands pin yours to the bed.

“Want you to keep that on. Looks cute.” He says, retracting from you and sinking down at the edge of the bed. In no wasted time, his mouth is lazily lapping at your cunt- making your back bend in the reaction of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed at the sheets until you remembered how his body responded when you pulled at his hair- so you found your hold there instead. Tugging his darkened strands with the pace he was eating you out at- stubble against your pussy and nose in your mound. His cheeks tickled your thighs, punching out a soft giggle and squirm from your body between the moaning. It makes him smile into you- reaching a hand up to knead your breast. Honestly, you hoped that the roof caved in right now and took you to your death because no moment would be better than this and that in itself made you suicidal.

You feel a finger slip past your hole, curling itself into that soft wall of fleshy, orgasmic sponge. The noise that left you was new, for sure and the muscle in his mouth jerked against your clit in tandem. It seemed Leon had the same deep feeling and worry you did about his dick even fitting, cause he added a second finger. Then tried to add a third but gave up because he actually wanted his dick to do that labor. He can be selfish, okay? It didn’t take long for you to cum either, duh. He was a skilled whore of a man and you’re a virgin. Or will be for only a few more minutes- probably less.

Your legs shake and tense, your heart thumps viciously, and your fingers threaten to tangle his hair into knots and make him start balding. Not happening no matter how hard you yank, though. His genes are too good for that. He was made for rough pulls to his mane. Made to take damage both mentally and physically. Made for splitting open cute, slutty nieces like you.

While you recovered, he licked his lips and fingers as clean as he could- missing the further parts of his stubbled cheeks. He stood up, hand on his lower back (‘cause duh, he’s old as dirt), and reached into the nightstand for a condom- which you gave him a look before he could open it. A look that told him ‘please, please, please don’t put it on! sure, fuck your blood-relative niece raw and possibly knock her up! Might not have to worry because you’re an alcoholic and your sperm quality is low, though.’ So fuck away.

He was a sucker for your big, glossy eyes and the slutty pout of your bottom lip. Not mentioning- he wouldn’t have worn a condom anyway. Would have just slipped it off before he stuck his dick in you. A virgin couldn’t tell the difference. What? You expected a man that fucks his own family to have morals for things lesser than that? No chance.

“Please, Uncle.” You begged softly, Leon knowing what you want without actually saying it. He’s great at reading people.

“Fucking hell. You’re something else. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughed, pleased by you beseeching him with so little words. You nodded, no objections about it. He tossed the unopened condom back in the drawer and shut it impatiently, making the lamp wobble.

“Changed my mind. Everything off. Gotta see that pretty set of tits.” The words were matter of fact and laced with a bit of erection-fueled urgency.

You reach your hands up to remove your shirt, then discard your bra and skirt. Left in the nude as naked as the day you were cut from your moms stomach. C-section baby and all that. Only this time there was no blood. Yet, anyways.

When you were stark naked, Leon pushed you firmly onto his bed again- folding you by the backs of your thighs, legs pressed to your chest and gifting your stomach with that cute roll thing it did. Leon liked that on a woman.

He grabbed his cock, positioning it against your slick that dribbled from your yet-to-be-abused hole. He was gonna change that. You could feel his one of the piercings resting against your skin down below- a tsunami of anxiety settling over your delicate village of a body.

“Might hurt a little, babydoll. Can’t promise I’m gonna be gentle with her.” He referred to your pussy, your hole fluttering when he talked. You gave a look of understanding and acknowledgement.

“God, want it so bad.” You whined under him, the position he had your legs in made you even crazier about having him in you, like, yesterday.

He didn’t savor the moment so that he could push into you, he just did it. The feeling of each piercing bumping your hole on the way in. It felt fucking good, but also his dick stretching you out was intense and stung like a papercut.

His hands held your thighs down into your stomach- giving you a novice contortionist experience, and you could see the veins in his forearm pop a little. Your mind raced with the following anxieties; ‘What if a piercing cuts my insides and I die from sepsis or something? What if a piercing ball comes off and is lost inside me forever? Maybe I should stretch more.’ The first two were irrational but maybe not so much so, or else you wouldn’t be thinking of them. You’re not the first woman to think any of it.

“Fuck- there we go. Shit. You feel incredible, baby.” He dropped the doll in favor of calling you baby this time, making you squeeze around him as he bottoms out, balls against your ass. Yep. A bruised cervix was in your future. Going to have to come up with an excuse for why you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. You thought other girls were just exaggerating this whole time about feeling yourself be split open, what the hell was he trying to do? Dig out your uterus with his dick? Does he really have to be so deep? It’s, like, really hot and feels really fucking good, but also, slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the position.

Either way, he’s feeding your ego.

You let your head relax onto the bed instead of continuing to hold it up, ‘cause doing that was much more painful.

“God.” You muttered, relieved to be full and get the virginity loss out of the way. You should be getting a cake and celebration for this, if it wasn’t your uncle. But still. Taking big, pierced dick deemed trophy worthy. Or maybe a plaque.

Leon gazed down at you through straight locks, shaking them out of his face a little. He pulled himself out, minus the tip, before pushing back in with a groan- his Adam’s Apple bobbing hypnotically. Your spine arched, lifting your back off the mattress and your hands dug into your own thighs, helping hold them in place.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, the difference between it being pure hormones and condescension was blurred. Could have been both. He doesn’t give that much of a timeframe to start dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly picking up speed and bottoming out each time- balls slapping against your bottom.

You babble nonsensically, the ribbed sensation of his piercings almost sending you into hysterics. Something about yes, yes. I love it. Need you to fuck me so hard that my dad disowns me because I’m wheelchair bound and he knows why.

“Feels good, baby. I know it. Bet it’s hitting places you didn’t even know you had.” If he wasn’t so fucking hot, you’d probably have the ick from how cocky he is. Or not, you’re fucked up.

He leaned forward over you more to tangle into your hair, guiding your head to more of an angle and exposing your neck. You were so overwhelmed from how hard and deep he’s fucking you, not to mention his dick feels like how you imagine a beginner level bad dragon dildo to feel. Or maybe a less monster-y version anyways. It just feels fucking good and that’s all you needed to care about. Soft, airy cries crawl their way from your throat and leave you between that and moaning. Uncle, please. Please, please, please, harder.

“Let it all out, that’s it. Uncle Leon’s gonna take good care of this pussy.”

You nod as much as you can with his hold on your hair, and he pants into your collarbone, sweaty and nasty on top of you. You feel like you’re almost being crushed under his weight but it’s only hotter, and gets even more when you feel his free hand slip between your damp bodies to thumb your aching and still-sensitive clit. You tighten around his cock in reaction- gasping.

“Take it, babydoll. Fuck. Show me how much you want your uncle to make you cum. Belong on my cock, you know it?”

Your brain is off somewhere in a hot air balloon, far from its preferred skull. Which is yours. He speaks in ways you didn’t imagine you’d ever get to be spoken to or even enjoy. But it’ll be the only thing that gets you off from now on, no doubt about it.

“Uh huh, belong on your dick forever. Never wanna take it out.” Yeah. You’re stupid for him.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Keep talking like that and I’m not ever letting you go.”

You nod your head.

“Want that, want that so bad. ‘D let you fuck me whenever you want, uncle.”

His lips curl into a half-pressed grin before he’s panting again- a bead of sweat dripping onto him. You remember he did something with the AC. Yeah-to the heat in the apartment is frying you good and well. Guess he wanted the sex to be extra clammy and gross. You know, besides the incest.

“Christ. Fuck, yes.” He groans deep, throaty and carnal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d be the prettiest little girlfriend. Sitting around waiting to get fucked all the time. I know how needy my baby is.” Christ. You’re going to the deepest abyss in hell. You’re sure whatever torment awaits is worth it though, so it’s not a big deal right now.

“Wanna be yours.” You choke, throat dry. Ah, you remember you’re intoxicated. That must be why you’re so loose at saying this stuff.

“Open up.” He huffs, almost face to face with you but still enough that his breath is hot on your features. You’re hasty to open your mouth like a whore, Leon dribbling his gathered spit down onto your tongue.

“Gotta keep you hydrated, baby. Can’t have that throat getting raw, can we?” You nod, there’s so many nasty things happening you can’t process it properly- unaware of everything as you cum a second time on his hand, squeezing his dick like a much softer and less dangerous guillotine.

His thrusts were a little more sloppy and erratic- alcohol fully set in for the both of you. Normally, he’d be able to hold off his orgasm a little longer- but combatting it wasn’t an option in this drunken state.

“Christ- so fucking pretty and tight when you cum on my dick. Gonna cum too, baby. Don’t think I can pull out right now.”

You shake your head no.

“Don’t pull out, please. Please uncle, ‘ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs brokenly, choked up from the moans that need to come out first.

“God, yes. Okay. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, baby.”

He focuses a few more thrusts, hard enough to make it hurt a little and sloppy enough to still be just the right amount of perfect.

“Here it comes, baby. Need you to take i- shit.” He buried deep inside you as he came hard, rasped voice and all while he held his place firm. His hair is stuck to his face in some areas, his natural scent emanating off of the sweat droplets.

His dick spasms inside you, filling you with every bit of semen he’s got pent up in him. You could almost feel the way your cunt was full of his cum, having no room around his dick to go anywhere, really.

He relaxed a little, letting out a long, pleasurable groan. You yourself joined him in letting your body go limp as it could in this position. He grabbed your legs to straighten them out and let them wrap around his waist, making you realize they were folded too long and that they ache a bit.

He kissed your collarbone, picking up his head and kissing your cheek next.

“Mm. Did so great for me, babydoll. Not gonna be able to let you go now.” He teased, another peck to your mouth that you managed to reciprocate just in time.

“Then don’t.” You tell him, mumbling.

“I can manage that. Could easily be my girl. Would have to be our little secret, though.” He adds at the end, threading his fingers in your hair.

Yeah, you’re not turning down that offer.

#dark diary #leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy vendetta #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy #tw #tw inc*st #i’m literally crazy abt him #tw dead dove #dead dove fic

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rascal-xo · 1 year ago

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send in y’all’s Price/Ghost/Soap suggestions |My requests are open for any other kind of fic suggestions as well!|

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diejager · 1 year ago

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I can envision everything now....

༉‧₊˚. TEASING COD CHARACTERS...

CHARACTERS: 141 + los vaqueros, könig & horangi, graves, valeria, russell alder & frank woods, keegan russ.

WARNINGS: punishments, burning with a cigar, slapping, smut obvs. (female anatomy, female reader)

GHOST scoffs at your audacity, quickly putting you in your place with a few filthy words. your hands running up his thigh, palming his stiff cock over his boxers before you're pushed to your knees and his thick, muscular thighs are caging your head against the wall. shoving his lengthy dick down your throat till you're gasping and banging on his broad hips for a break, voice raspy and strained.

PRICE doesn't take it very well, not at all, infact. you'd been all desperate and needy for his length, begging him to allow you to suck him off nicely in the middle of a debriefing. his head supporting the crown of your head and his meaty, girthy cock stuffed into your mouth, leaving him drooling as the debriefing ended before you're pushed over the table and your pretty, slick panties are down at your knees. fucked you ruthlessly for hours until you were apologising profusely and whining for him to gentle.

SOAP finds it funny. you're bratty, whiney attitude replaced with obedience as he spreads your legs apart and cuts your panties off with a sharpened knife. his tongue dragging up your sensitive slit before curling inside your hole, flicking at your wet clit till your gasping for him to eat you out. but, do you really deserve it? perhaps, you show show him how desperate you really are by rubbing your cunt against his military boots...

GAZ is the type to tease you back. refusing and denying his orgasm after sucking him off, lips wrapped tightly around his shaft and sucking up before pulling off with a ‘pop'. soon, you're pushed up against the shower wall with his leaky tip swirling around your wet hole, easing inside your asshole and making you squirm from the texture of each vein lugging against your soft, gummy walls. you're a panting, sticky mess, plugging your pretty pussy with your fingers as he ruins your tight asshole, cumming deep inside and pulling multiple orgasms out of you before leaving you a trembling, wet and horny mess; desperate for just one more orgasm. :(

ALEJANDRO chuckles lowly, the deep sound emitting from his chest as he backs you up against the concrete wall outside the bar you'd two just visited with a few friends. you'd been giving him lustful eyes, making him hard, dick straining inside his boxers as he groans deeply under his breath. you nuzzle your head against his clothed crotch, on your knees, your tongue lapping over his bulge. alejandro might just have to throat fuck you for being such a filthy whore, treat you like the dirty girl you are through a sloppy blowjob, eyelids heavy and lips swollen and puffy from taking every single inch he had to offer your poor mouth.

RUDY almost felt cruel whilst punishing you; seeing you a dirty, sticky and desperate mess bent over his thighs made him feel horrible, yet he couldn't help how his cock twitched inside his boxer briefs, almost begging to be freed as it leaked inside, staining his boxers. you whimpered as he pushed the dildo inside your tight hole, the way you covered it in slick and begged for him to be go rougher on you. being refused and overstimulated with the tip of the toy against your sensitive nub, his face fingers pinching your hardened nipples with each thrust, refusing your orgasm for hours and encouraging you through breathy grunts and sweet praise.

KÖNIG had been hard practically all day, especially since you'd been teasing him by wearing some skimpy pjama shorts that showed off the perfect curve of your ass. you whimpered with each spank, the belt smacking against your tight rear as you whined, mewling and wriggling your hips with each painful slap. he degraded you, humilated you into a dirty, embarrassed mess... all whiney for his big cock stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. you gasped, the belt smacking against your skin and leaving it raw, knocking the wind from your lungs with tears staining your pretty face, all ruined and sensitive. :(

HORANGI doesn't take teasing so well... seeing you hitting on other men at the casino whilst he hung out with some friends from KORTAC. you felt a large, calloused hand grab at your wrist, pulling you into a secluded area before ripping down your slick panties, leaving you bare and wet. he fucked you with his thick fingers , making you grasp at his shoulders and whine as he eased them further inside, trembling and sobbing with each thrust. you cried out in ecstasy, his teeth biting onto your earlobe, kissing your neck and leaving hickeys along your skin. “더러운 창녀...” (dirty fucking whore)

KEEGAN RUSS punishes you through rough sex. forcing you to look into the mirror, watching as he ruined you, his lengthy and veiny dick thrusted into your tight hole with your wrists bound with rope. you whimpered around his fingers, feeling them ease into your mouth, his full balls smacking against your tight ass. showing you what a dirty whore you are after you'd been flirting with other soldiers to make him jealous, his cock throbbing inside your heat. definitely made you clean up the mess you'd made on the mirror, squirting all over the glass... :(

GRAVES didn't mind sharing you. allowing you to be fucked by some of his soldiers, watching from afar and stroking his lengthy dick slowly whilst they rutted into you. but, you'd been refusing sex with him to get on his nerves, screaming his soldiers names instead of his during sex, whenever you would, that is... a belt gripped in his grasp, snacking it against your ass whilst he forced your head down on one of his men's shaft, your sounds muffled as he punished you for being such a greedy little thing. refused to let you cum till you were crying out his name, his hard cock pushed between your thighs, humping then while you whimpered for his attention. “someone's needy for attention, huh? yeah? mm', pretty little doll like you gettin' greedy.. ain't'cha just a stupid fuckin' fleshlight...”

VALERIA can't stand being teased. she's a brat tamer, she knows how to deal with dirty girls like you, cumming all down her chin as he eats you out. she'll eat you out for hours, till you're raw and sensitive and overstimulated, babbling out something incoherent as he bites your soft thighs, licking up your slit and covering you in drool. she'll have to get rid of the snarky mouth as well, by forcing your pretty face into her sweet cunny, kissing her pussy and sucking on her needy clit repeatedly, her hand supporting the crown of your skull.

FRANK WOODS will laugh, smoking a lit cigar before putting it out on your thigh. you squirm and cry as he applys pressure onto the open cut, whimpering as he looks at you with a lustful haze, holding your head and forcing you to kiss him sloppily as an apology. he'll get all pissy when you attempt to grind against him, telling you that you don't deserve to cum, and that you deserve to be used as a fleshlight for trying to get him all angry nd everything :( slapping you across the face whenever you retort or protest, whining for your release.

RUSSELL ADLER is the opposite of what frank woods would do. he'd guide your hips back and forth along his clothed thigh, covering his jeans in slick, bare pussy desperate and greedy for the friction she's receiving. you almost forget it's a punishment, whimpering and mewling whilst he gives you a cruel grin, holding you hips in place with an iron grip, holding you from moving. “what, baby? can't stand bein' punished?” you gasp, babbling out some ‘please’'s whilst he humilates you, talking some sense into your stupid brain, whining and frowning at him with glossy eyes. :(

not my best work, but i hope you guys like it 😵‍💫... reblogs, comments and likes ate appreciated :)

banner credit to cafekistune on tumblr**

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