I read @lilskippity ‘s conspiracy theorist fic earlier this year and honestly I can’t get it out of my head, but I wanted to do my own spin on it and really stretch it out. So here it finally is, in all its unpolished glory. It’s a mess imo. But I hope you enjoy. (thank you skippy for the inspiration)
I sort of combined plot points from the remakes of MWII and MWIII and reworked it to have my own characters and political conflicts and everything, so it’s not super original but it’s not exactly a retelling of those games either. And not related to real life events either.
I’m not sure if I’m going to put a romance plot in it (probably will, knowing me), but let me know if you want me to, and who specifically I should slut out. And I’m writing this as I go, I don’t have anything planned out, so if you have suggestions, please leave a comment or send them to me!
MDNI - Only CW for part 1 is general talk of terrorism and political conflicts, nothing detailed
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“Anything to drink for you boys?” The middle-aged waitress asks the four large men squeezed into the booth.
“Just a round of black coffee, thanks.” John Price scratches his beard as he barely looks her way. She takes the hint that they are not here for conversation and leaves to grab some mugs and brew a fresh pot for them.
Sierra Vista, Arizona. About twenty miles from the southern border of the United States. A diner sits just on the edge of the small town, along Highway 90. Inside, Task Force 141 makes themselves comfortable as they prepare for the long day ahead of them. It’s half past six in the morning, the sun above the horizon shining directly into the diner’s front windows, heating up the stuffy, dry air. There are about five other people in the diner; an older man reading the newspaper in a corner booth, the waitress and the chef, a seemingly homeless man slouched over in the bar seating, and a young woman sitting next to him.
This young woman stares intently at the boxy television set on the counter a few feet to her left. A news channel is playing, detailing a recent terrorist attack in an airport in Mexico. The same attack the 141 was unable to stop just yesterday.
“You know, with all the smuggling rings popping up in Central America, this has the cartel written all over it,” the young woman perks up a little bit, slightly turning to the man on her left, who has his head laying on his arm, not paying one bit of attention to her. She seems to only be half speaking to him, mostly just talking out loud to anyone who will listen. The waitress making the coffee glances at her and hums as to not ignore her. She seems to be a regular here.
The girl continues as the news anchor discusses border patrol, “And it’s not just drugs that they’re bringing up through here, its weapons too. Like the guns and bombs those terrorists were using. I heard there’s this Russian guy, Ivanov, who has been doing deals with the cartel to smuggle things overseas into the Americas. The CIA has been hot on his trail lately, I think they’re sniffing him out. I mean, this has gotta be him, right?”
She’s speaking louder now, more passionate. John makes eye contact with Ghost across the table from him. She might be talking to nobody in particular, but she certainly has their attention. The nonsense she’s blabbing about is not nonsense at all, but the exact thing they have been investigating and attempting to intervene for the last few weeks. They received intel that Sergei Ivanov has been making arms deals with the cartel, smuggling weapons north through the Americas in anticipation of a terrorist attack rumored to target a large airport in the United States in the coming months. The very reason the 141 is here in this little town is to sabotage a smuggling route they believe the cartel will be moving those weapons through.
The waitress drops off their coffee at the table and walks away when they decline to order food.
“I bet you this was the practice round! That airport is just about the same size as some of ours in the bigger cities, they’re gonna do the same thing here, oh I just know it, and with Ivanov in hiding over in Indonesia and the government all busy with those rumors of war over in the middle east, it’s gonna slip right past them.”
That got John’s attention. Indonesia? They didn’t know anything about that. The whole team now sits quietly, just looking at each other, hoping to hear her ramble on more. What else does she know? Is this even true?
“A damn shame, really, I mean I could’ve seen this coming from a mile away, people are getting shot in airports and the CIA is doing what, exactly? Dancing around with those UN fuckers over the Venezuelan uprising? I mean, god, its so obvious that one governor guy was in cahoots with the president in shady business dealings and was practically caught red-handed after that scandal they tried to cover up, it’s almost like the CIA or the military or whatever, they’re in on it or something. They keep saying it was a protester that killed that guy but that video they got shows there wasn’t anyone else near him except his security personnel, it was clearly someone on the inside. Jesus Christ, it’s, like, all just for show, man! A big joke!” She raised her voice a bit, but still nobody paid her any attention except these four strange men from out of town.
John sucks in a deep breath. The video in question is not available to the public. Never got leaked, only a few dozen people on the planet have seen it. The governor's scandal barely even made local news, so with the chokehold the CIA has on media in Venezuela, nobody should have heard of it.
So, how the hell does this girl, in a shabby little diner in the middle of nowhere, know all of this?
John slowly put his coffee down, turning his head to this girl. She can’t be older than 25 or so. She’s dressed in normal clothes, eating a breakfast sandwich she practically dissected into a messy pile on her plate.
The news moves on to that Senator’s court case everyone is talking about, and the young woman tunes in closely, leaning further over the counter to hear the quiet audio better.
He stands up, motioning with one finger for his lieutenant to follow him. He wades over to this girl, who is faced away from him, quiet now. His arm lands on the edge of the counter and he leans to box in her left side as Ghost stands tall directly behind her. He clears his throat and the girl spins around in her stool, looking wildly between the two men towering over her.
She says nothing, but John can tell she takes note of their clothing and large stature. Her eyes narrow.
“Hello, love, how about we have a little chat outside, yeah?” He keeps his voice down a little, though the only person close enough to hear him is the unconscious, tattered man snoring a few feet away.
She gives pause for a few seconds, and then squeaks out, “No thanks,” and turns back to her food, as if she was busy eating it instead of just picking at little bites. He stands there for a few seconds, thinking.
John did not think it was a good idea to make scene, and he’s sure that this young girl is quite suspicious of them. The way she was talking, he thinks she’s got some fire in her, might put up a good fight, or stir some trouble with them at the very least.
So, he returns to the booth with his lieutenant and finishes the coffee. He hopes she leaves on her own soon, and he can have that talk with her more privately. He’s not sure whether to speak to Laswell about this. They need to head out soon, and if he can’t get this girl sorted before then, he might have to call this in. Confidential intelligence information being spouted by a civilian in public might lead to all kinds of trouble for everyone.
A man, about forty years old, enters the diner and sits down as the waitress approaches him. The little conspiracy theorist sees him, and throws cash on the counter in haste, and grabs her bag, dashing out of the store. John takes that as his cue. The other three men follow his lead, grabbing their gear and bags, heading outside.
The sun shines down on the asphalt of the parking lot, not a single cloud in the pale blue sky. The girl is heading towards a bike dumped on the ground in the corner of the lot. It’s missing the seat and is rusted in multiple places, but the tires look brand new. The four men catch up to her quickly, grabbing her and pulling her to the side of the building, out of view.
She yelps, but oddly does not scream. She twists out of John’s grasp and starts to make a run for it, but sees that her way back out to the lot is blocked by two other men accompanying the ones that approached her before. She has this look in her eyes, not fully afraid, but very hesitant and suspicious, as she looks back and forth between all of them.
For those of you who don't know, Canada is on fire, and Indigenous communities are being disproportionately affected by the overwhelming damage.
A few writers and I are working on setting up charity commissions where people would show proof of donations to charities such as:
Anishinabek Nation 7th Generation Charity
Ontario Native Women's Association
Mikinakoos Emergency Fund
Red Cross
True North Aid
Indigenous Climate Action
Any others with an appeal that appears on an official First Nation, Tribal Council or registered charity channel
Before we set up the commissions, we are putting out this poll to see interested numbers so that we are able to effectively decide how many commission slots we will offer and how long the commissions will be.
At the moment, we are thinking of commissions being 1,000 words maximum for 10$ minimum donated (or your local currency equivalent) but that is subject to change depending on interest. Most of us write for COD, but more information about characters/fandoms will be available when we make the official post.
Would you be interested in a Charity Commission?
Yes
No
Voting ended onJul 20
Even if you're not interested in a commission, I highly encourage you to donate if you are able to! Lev's post is a very valuable resource and source of information if you'd like to do further research.
Please reblog this post, not only for sample size but to get word out about the fires and the charities.
Namaygoosisagagun First Nation/Collins has burned to the ground. The entire community is nothing but ashes after being quickly consumed by wildfires. They did not have any support from emergency services, and no one offered aid. The community saved themselves by escaping into boats because no one came.
Mishkeegogamang and Cat Lake have lost power. Families are ending up in shelters with nothing. Armstrong, Lac La Croix, Whitesand, Gull Bay, Lac des Mille Lacs are currently in the fires path and all members are being evacuated.
All this loss, all this devastation, and it was entirely preventable.
After steadily underfunding wildland firefighting and purposefully excluding Indigenous wildland firefighters and Indigenous wildfire organizations from wildfire operations, firefighter training, decisionmaking, and resource exchanges, in 2025, Doug Ford slashed the forest firefighting budget.
It's hard to ignore his decision to cut funding and leave us out of adequate fire training (even though we've lived with forest fires for thousands of years—far longer than settlers have been in Canada—and made sure fires like the ones we're all seeing today were prevented through kinisitotēn) when, despite making up less than 5% of the population, we account for 42% percent of all wildfire evacuations in Canada.
And when we are successfully evacuated, we face discrimination and racism—like Kashechewan—because it's always been easier to blame us than it is to blame the true culprit: denialism, corportate greed, and colonization.
The people of Collins and every other impacted community deserve better.
Right now, the AFN is currently accepting donations to help Collins First Nation. If you're able to, please consider donating.
ONWA (Ontario Native Women's Association) is another great place to donate to. They have outreach vans going to motels and inns and offering food, water, resources, and cultural support to those impacted by the wildfires.
Other places to consider donating to are Mikinakoos Emergency Fund, Red Cross, True North Aid, Indigenous Climate Action. You can also send donations directly to Whitesand First Nation via e-transfer ([email protected]) and they request that you add your full name in the e-transfer comment section to receive a tax receipt.
*Before sending money, verify that the appeal appears on an official First Nation, Tribal Council or registered charity channel.
If you can't offer financial support, please consider donating items of need. Moontime Connections is currently accepting drop-off donations. If you live in the Thunder Bay area, Namaygoosisagagun Health Office is also taking in donations! They can also bemailed to Superior Inn Hotel & Conference Centre at 555 West Arthur Street, Thunder Bay, ON, P7E 5P8.
RE9 leon kennedy x fem!reader | tlou inspired au | read on ao3
The events that transpired in Raccoon City left more than just a mark on Leon Kennedy; it left a mark on the world. The spread of the infection became too overwhelming to stop, leaving small pockets of humanity huddling in safe havens scattered in various locations with little left to hope for than to see the sun rise on another day.
After a coordinated attack lead by an increasingly agitated civilian population lands Leon in the infirmary, he is presented with an opportunity he can't refuse.
You are humanity's last hope; and Leon's only chance at redemption.
a/n: each chapter will have its own content warnings. overall; canon typical violence, medical/body horror, age gap (leon is in his 40's, reader doesn't have an explicit age but is referenced to be younger than him) non-canon compliant
Chapter One: a favor
follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Naya "Bambi" Walker | wc: 2.4k
You don't expect Simon to propose bringing someone into your bedroom, but you can't deny that you're more than a little interested.
Read on AO3 / Ko-Fi
CW: 18+/MDNI, PIV sex, dirty talk, lactation, fantasizing about a coworker, exhibitionism, (discussion of) hotwifing, under-negotiated kink, dubcon picture sharing, Simon is bisexual but we're not getting into that very much right this moment (we will get into it in part 2) (and probably 3)
"Gaz asked aft'ya."
The words take a minute to make their way through your pleasure drunk mind, but when they do, the curl hot in your belly. The whine you let out sounds pathetic, even to your ears. Simon won't let you bury your face in the bedding, wraps a hand around your throat so it’s impossible to hide from him as he hilts himself inside of you from behind.
"Was right after you sent me that cheeky little picture," he continues, and the way you squirm under hiim makes him huff a breathless chuckle. "Weren't even done lockin' the screen, almost gave 'im a peek of those tits."
"Oh, oh, no." Embarrassment seizes you as the memory of just what you’d been wearing flashes behind your eyelids.
"Oh, no," he mocks, then slaps your ass. He groans as you whine. "Like I can't feel you clenchin' up. Pretendin' y'not all excited, like you didn't wear red knowin' 't's 'is favorite color. You wanted 'im t' see."
"No," you whimper, breathless, but he's changed the angles of his thrusts and your whole body is shivering it's way to a climax. "Simon, no, just you, just -"
"Just me," he growls, and his voice is ragged against your ear. His hands are hard when he hikes up your hips to grind in, in, in. "You think I don't know you was watchin' 'im, last time we was out? So cute when y' flirtin', lickin' y' lips 'n gigglin'."
You shake your head, but words get caught behind your teeth.
“No?” Simon's laugh makes you shiver. One of his hands slides under your hips, fingers zeroing in on your clit. "Weren't givin' Gaz fuck-me eyes? 'E might not've noticed, the way 'e was eyein' ya. Bet 'e touched 'imself that night, wonderin' 'ow y'r pussy looks when she's gettin' what she needs."
Your brain conjurs up Kyle’s face, handsome and attentive, and you can’t help the way you whine again. Reaching back with one hand, you grab at Simon's hair as your body ratchets closer to climax.
"Might 'ave to let him find out," he growls, and his voice is starting to waver with his own orgasm approaching. "'E's got a real pretty cock, bet you'd make real pretty noises - "
Whatever else he says is drowned out by the way you nearly shout as the tension in your belly snaps. It’s hard to gasp for breath as he works you through it, ignoring the way you jerk as oversensitivity takes over. A second peak wracks your whole body, right on the heels of the first, and every muscle in your body goes rigid. That sets Simon off, and you echo the moans that tear their way out of his throat.
Simon’s breaths are heavy against the back of your neck by the time you float back down into your body. The weight of him is grounding, comforting, even as you put your face into the bedding and groan with exhaustion and embarrassment. Simon snickers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he rolls you both to the side and wraps his hands around your waist.
You scrub a hand over your face and leave your hand over your eyes as you moan, “What the fuck was that?”
“Experimentin’.”
“Simon.”
“Figurin’ some stuff out,” he mumbles, running a hand up your belly and cupping one of your breasts gently. “Jus’ playin, ‘s all. You liked it?”
You wiggle around until you’re laying on your back, then peek through your fingers up at him. He blinks sleepy eyes down at you, head propped on one hand and looking just as relaxed as he ever does. Like he didn’t just bring up flirting with and fucking his coworker. He grins when he sees you pouting, big and self-satisfied before dipping down to press his lips against yours.
You tug gently at his hair as he pulls away. “What’re you figuring out?”
“’Ow best to surprise ya,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Figure Gaz is a safe bet. Thinks y’ gorgeous.”
“You want to sleep with Kyle?” You gasp, then gasp again. “Wait. Why do you know what his dick looks like?”
“Communal showers.” Simon plucks at one of your nipples, just a tease, before cupping his hand over that side of your chest again. “After ‘n op, after the gym. Easy to get a bit worked up.”
“You’ve seen him hard?”
“We’ve all seen each other ‘ard.” He shrugs. “Rude to stare, but in close quarters, y’gonna see somethin’. I’ve seen Johnny strokin’ off more time’s ‘n I c’n count. Cap’s got more restraint, but ‘ve seen ‘is favorite porn star.”
“Focus. We’re talking about Kyle,” you remind him, poking at his chest. “You said his dick is pretty.”
“Oh, so ‘e is your favorite.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Yeah? You just wanna hear more about ‘is cock? ‘Bout ‘ow I bet it’d hit all those nice spots if ‘e ‘ad you layin’ on your back like this?”
His hand squeezes, fingers drawing up toward your nipple in the way that he knows prompts your letdown. The fuzzy static of it makes you slap at him. But Simon just catches your hand and brings your knuckles to his mouth for a quick kiss. It’s a trap, of course, and he grabs your other hand in short order before bringing them up above your head. With an arched eyebrow, he presses them against the pillow before letting go, and then his fingers are back to stroking and plucking at you until milk starts beading up under his fingers. There isn’t much to give, since you’ve already done your pre-bed pump, but it’s still an overwhelming sensation so soon after orgasm.
“’E’s thick, like you like,” he says, breezy and casual as you squirm. “Just a bit o’ curve. Y’r lips’d look real nice on it.”
Your stomach swoops as he licks his fingers. Then his touch drifts lower, light and almost ticklish until his fingers can pet gently over your clit. Sensitivity makes you twitch your hips away, but he follows, keeps the pressure consistent while he waits for you to settle. Only then does he pet over your mound and thighs, gentle and teasing.
“Likes to take ‘is time,” he murmurs, licking his lips. His eyes are dark and hungry when he meets yours. “Was waitin’ for exfil, once. Nothin’ to do. ‘E pulled up some porn, somethin’ slow. Don’t remember exactly what. But ‘e didn’t skip ahead. Said ‘e likes to let things build, when ‘e’s got the time.”
His thick fingers dip between your legs, and you have to bite back a small noise. Simon’s always talkative, in bed, but this feels different, fragile. There’s none of that almost frantic, middle-of-sex energy forcing the words out. He’s not trying to get either of you off, not quite, not… not yet. He’s just… admiring his friend, sharing the intimate views he thinks you’ll appreciate with him.
That image you have of Kyle changes in your mind, becomes something quiet and warm. You can almost imagine the two of them, in some small, dim hotel room. You know what Simon looks like, when he’s not yet focused on sex, but willing to be convinced. Is that what he’s like, after an operation? Does he drape himself on a bed or a pull-out couch and watch porn quietly on his phone? He never hesitates to lean over your shoulder to get a better look at whatever you’ve pulled up. Does he do the same to Kyle? Would Kyle let him? Do they sit close, pulling something up on a phone, until their hands end up down their pants?
“Showed ‘im a picture of you, last time we was out,” he chuckles, interrupting your musing and setting your heart racing again. His voice dark and smoky, the way it gets when he’s preparing to pull you along through something that’s going to push all of your buttons. He leans down to steal another kiss when his fingers start to dip into where you’re wet and relaxed. “That one I like, the one from the beach. ‘Is cock weren’t out, but I bet ‘e wished it was. Just lookin’, that time, we was on watch. No time to do nothin’ about it.”
“You did not,” you whimper around a hitching breath.
“I did,” he he counters, grinning against your mouth. “’E said I’m a lucky bastard, and ‘e’s right. Prettiest girl in the world, you are. Can’t blame ‘im for wantin’ a taste.”
Your stomach flutters, and you want to touch him, so you lift one hand to play with his hair. “Did… did he say that?”
“Might ‘ave.” Simon’s fingers push deep, slowly, and he grins when you shiver. “Might’ve just looked hard an’ bit ‘is tongue. Can’t exactly tell ‘is superior officer ‘e wants to fuck ‘is wife. Gotta wait for an invitation.”
You swallow a moan as he adds another finger, pressing deep. You’re so wet that the movement is loud in the quiet room. Still, he moves slowly, palm rocking purposefully against you, just the way you like. It’s impossible to resist chasing the sensation with slow rolls of you hips, so you don’t try. It’s hard not to let the pleasure drag you under again. All you can do is take a couple of deep breaths to remind yourself not to move too fast.
“You want…” you have to swallow twice, force your mind to concentrate on the words instead of the way his hand unravels you, again, “Want to give him an invitation?”
“Might ‘ave to, the way you’re gettin’ worked up so fast.” His laugh is just the slightest bit mean. “If ‘e was ‘ere, I bet ‘e’d already be fuckin you. Nice’n slow, like this, give this greedy cunt everythin’ she wants while I’m recoverin’.”
His cock is thick against your hip, not quite hard again, yet. The way he nudges his hips into you makes you want to spread your legs, so you do. And then you’re moaning into his mouth as his fingers massage steadily against your g-spot. Without your input, your hips rock up, chasing that sensation, trying to coax him to move faster.
“Look’t you, Pretty. So needy. What kinda man would I be if I wasn’t makin’ sure you’re taken care of, hm? Bet Kyle’d be real nice to you, ‘specially sweet as y’are right now. Soft ‘n wet, fuck, gushin’ all over ‘is cock jus’ like this. Messy, but ‘e wouldn’ mind.”
The building pleasure makes you pant up at him, eyes locked on his face. He looks hungry, the corner of his mouth quirked up to expose some of his teeth. A part of you realizes that he’s excited at the way he can thrill you, certainly, but this isn’t just for you, is it? He likes that you like the idea, but it’s his fantasy, his friend that he’s imagining fucking you.
“Si-” you whimper.
“Yeah. Gonna make ‘im work for you to say ‘is name?” he growls, crowding even closer and using one of his legs to spread yours further. He doesn’t speed up, but his fingers press harder, just where you want and need it to start really working toward another peak. “No, I don’t think so. I think once you start thinkin’ wi’ that pretty pussy, y’ gonna cry so pretty, callin’ for ‘im to speed up, get you right where you wanna be. Say his name nice, I bet ‘e’d give you whatever y’ want.”
You whimper as his other hand captures your wrists and presses them into the pillow. “Simon!”
“Yeah, y’ gonna come? Wonder if ‘e could resist comin’ w’ you squeezin’ all around ‘im. ‘Specially if ‘e gets his mouth on y’r tits. Bet e’ tries, but can’t. Bet ‘e gives you those deep strokes y’ like so much, fucks ‘imself deep and makes a pretty mess f’ me to fuck back int’ ya.”
The orgasm crests, easy and overwhelming and wet. Simon growls, shifting over you until he can remove his fingers and push his cock into you in three hard shoves. His groan almost drowns out the wet noises of skin against skin, but every thrust seems louder than the one before. All of your senses are filled with him, his panting breaths, his thick waist between your legs.
You wonder, wildly, if Kyle would hold you while Simon chases his orgasm in your body.
It’s so unexpected, so jarring, that your belly flips and your body locks up, again. An embarrassing noise squeezes past your throat, you think, as your arms wrap around Simon’s neck again. He feels it, of course, and laughs breathlessly as he lifts your leg so he can fuck himself even deeper.
“Ah!”
“Yeah,” he pants into your mouth. “One more, pretty, ‘m close, jus’ a little more, jus’ like that.”
You can’t make your tongue cooperate, but you try, “K-Ky! Please, Simon.”
He groans like you’ve wounded him and presses close and deep, until you can’t catch your breath. His cock jerks so hard that it pulls a gasp from you, and you bury your face in his shoulder as he huffs like a bull into your hair. His muscles are so rigid that your fingers slip on his sweat, but still, you wrap yourself around him the best you can as you both shake.
You stay like that for a beat, and then his breath explodes from between his lips. The muscles holding him up go slack, all at once, and he barely manages not to land directly on you as he collapses. You’re still a bit squished under him, but there’s just enough space that you can gulp a couple of hot breaths.
A giggle ripples out of you. “Oh my god. You want to fuck Kyle.”
“Fuck,” he laughs. “’S that all you got out of that?”
“You came when I said his name!”
Simon laughs, breathlessly against your hair. “You came thinkin’ about ‘im.”
“Yeah.” Post orgasm, it’s easy to admit. You pet a hand over his side, then tweak his hip. “Does that mean you actually want to fuck Kyle?”
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” He scrubs a hand over his face and props himself up on one elbow. “Give me twenty minutes, Bambi, I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs.”
In spite of his words, he’s smiling, warm and happy. You hum as he dips down for a slow kiss. A yawn interrupts you, first you, then him, and you giggle again as he flops back into the bedding.
You suppose you can give him twenty minutes.
"Gaz asked aft'ya."
The words take a minute to make their way through your pleasure drunk mind, but when they do, the curl hot in your belly. The whine you let out sounds pathetic, even to your ears. Simon won't let you bury your face in the bedding, wraps a hand around your throat so it’s impossible to hide from him as he hilts himself inside of you from behind.
"Was right after you sent me that cheeky little picture," he continues, and the way you squirm under hiim makes him huff a breathless chuckle. "Weren't even done lockin' the screen, almost gave 'im a peek of those tits."
"Oh, oh, no." Embarrassment seizes you as the memory of just what you’d been wearing flashes behind your eyelids.
"Oh, no," he mocks, then slaps your ass. He groans as you whine. "Like I can't feel you clenchin' up. Pretendin' y'not all excited, like you didn't wear red knowin' 't's 'is favorite color. You wanted 'im t' see."
"No," you whimper, breathless, but he's changed the angles of his thrusts and your whole body is shivering it's way to a climax. "Simon, no, just you, just -"
"Just me," he growls, and his voice is ragged against your ear. His hands are hard when he hikes up your hips to grind in, in, in. "You think I don't know you was watchin' 'im, last time we was out? So cute when y' flirtin', lickin' y' lips 'n gigglin'."
You shake your head, but words get caught behind your teeth.
“No?” Simon's laugh makes you shiver. One of his hands slides under your hips, fingers zeroing in on your clit. "Weren't givin' Gaz fuck-me eyes? 'E might not've noticed, the way 'e was eyein' ya. Bet 'e touched 'imself that night, wonderin' 'ow y'r pussy looks when she's gettin' what she needs."
Your brain conjurs up Kyle’s face, handsome and attentive, and you can’t help the way you whine again. Reaching back with one hand, you grab at Simon's hair as your body ratchets closer to climax.
"Might 'ave to let him find out," he growls, and his voice is starting to waver with his own orgasm approaching. "'E's got a real pretty cock, bet you'd make real pretty noises - "
Whatever else he says is drowned out by the way you nearly shout as the tension in your belly snaps. It’s hard to gasp for breath as he works you through it, ignoring the way you jerk as oversensitivity takes over. A second peak wracks your whole body, right on the heels of the first, and every muscle in your body goes rigid. That sets Simon off, and you echo the moans that tear their way out of his throat.
Simon’s breaths are heavy against the back of your neck by the time you float back down into your body. The weight of him is grounding, comforting, even as you put your face into the bedding and groan with exhaustion and embarrassment. Simon snickers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he rolls you both to the side and wraps his hands around your waist.
You scrub a hand over your face and leave your hand over your eyes as you moan, “What the fuck was that?”
“Experimentin’.”
“Simon.”
“Figurin’ some stuff out,” he mumbles, running a hand up your belly and cupping one of your breasts gently. “Jus’ playin, ‘s all. You liked it?”
You wiggle around until you’re laying on your back, then peek through your fingers up at him. He blinks sleepy eyes down at you, head propped on one hand and looking just as relaxed as he ever does. Like he didn’t just bring up flirting with and fucking his coworker. He grins when he sees you pouting, big and self-satisfied before dipping down to press his lips against yours.
You tug gently at his hair as he pulls away. “What’re you figuring out?”
“’Ow best to surprise ya,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Figure Gaz is a safe bet. Thinks y’ gorgeous.”
“You want to sleep with Kyle?” You gasp, then gasp again. “Wait. Why do you know what his dick looks like?”
“Communal showers.” Simon plucks at one of your nipples, just a tease, before cupping his hand over that side of your chest again. “After ‘n op, after the gym. Easy to get a bit worked up.”
“You’ve seen him hard?”
“We’ve all seen each other ‘ard.” He shrugs. “Rude to stare, but in close quarters, y’gonna see somethin’. I’ve seen Johnny strokin’ off more time’s ‘n I c’n count. Cap’s got more restraint, but ‘ve seen ‘is favorite porn star.”
“Focus. We’re talking about Kyle,” you remind him, poking at his chest. “You said his dick is pretty.”
“Oh, so ‘e is your favorite.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Yeah? You just wanna hear more about ‘is cock? ‘Bout ‘ow I bet it’d hit all those nice spots if ‘e ‘ad you layin’ on your back like this?”
His hand squeezes, fingers drawing up toward your nipple in the way that he knows prompts your letdown. The fuzzy static of it makes you slap at him. But Simon just catches your hand and brings your knuckles to his mouth for a quick kiss. It’s a trap, of course, and he grabs your other hand in short order before bringing them up above your head. With an arched eyebrow, he presses them against the pillow before letting go, and then his fingers are back to stroking and plucking at you until milk starts beading up under his fingers. There isn’t much to give, since you’ve already done your pre-bed pump, but it’s still an overwhelming sensation so soon after orgasm.
“’E’s thick, like you like,” he says, breezy and casual as you squirm. “Just a bit o’ curve. Y’r lips’d look real nice on it.”
Your stomach swoops as he licks his fingers. Then his touch drifts lower, light and almost ticklish until his fingers can pet gently over your clit. Sensitivity makes you twitch your hips away, but he follows, keeps the pressure consistent while he waits for you to settle. Only then does he pet over your mound and thighs, gentle and teasing.
“Likes to take ‘is time,” he murmurs, licking his lips. His eyes are dark and hungry when he meets yours. “Was waitin’ for exfil, once. Nothin’ to do. ‘E pulled up some porn, somethin’ slow. Don’t remember exactly what. But ‘e didn’t skip ahead. Said ‘e likes to let things build, when ‘e’s got the time.”
His thick fingers dip between your legs, and you have to bite back a small noise. Simon’s always talkative, in bed, but this feels different, fragile. There’s none of that almost frantic, middle-of-sex energy forcing the words out. He’s not trying to get either of you off, not quite, not… not yet. He’s just… admiring his friend, sharing the intimate views he thinks you’ll appreciate with him.
That image you have of Kyle changes in your mind, becomes something quiet and warm. You can almost imagine the two of them, in some small, dim hotel room. You know what Simon looks like, when he’s not yet focused on sex, but willing to be convinced. Is that what he’s like, after an operation? Does he drape himself on a bed, or a pull-out couch and watch porn quietly on his phone? He never hesitates to lean over your shoulder to get a better look at whatever you’ve pulled up. Does he do the same to Kyle? Would Kyle let him? Do they sit close, pulling something up on a phone, until their hands end up down their pants?
“Showed ‘im a picture of you, last time we was out,” he chuckles, interrupting your musing and setting your heart racing again. His voice dark and smoky, the way it gets when he’s preparing to pull you along through something that’s going to push all of your buttons. He leans down to steal another kiss when his fingers start to dip into where you’re wet and relaxed. “That one I like, the one from the beach. ‘Is cock weren’t out, but I bet ‘e wished it was. Just lookin’, that time, we was on watch. No time to do nothin’ about it.”
“You did not,” you whimper around a hitching breath.
“I did,” he he counters, grinning against your mouth. “’E said I’m a lucky bastard, and ‘e’s right. Prettiest girl in the world, you are. Can’t blame ‘im for wantin’ a taste.”
Your stomach flutters, and you want to touch him, so you lift one hand to play with his hair. “Did… did he say that?”
“Might ‘ave.” Simon’s fingers push deep, slowly, and he grins when you shiver. “Might’ve just looked hard an’ bit ‘is tongue. Can’t exactly tell ‘is superior officer ‘e wants to fuck ‘is wife. Gotta wait for an invitation.”
You swallow a moan as he adds another finger, pressing deep. You’re so wet that the movement is loud in the quiet room. Still, he moves slowly, palm rocking purposefully against you, just the way you like. It’s impossible to resist chasing the sensation with slow rolls of you hips, so you don’t try. It’s hard not to let the pleasure drag you under again. All you can do is take a couple of deep breaths to remind yourself not to move too fast.
“You want…” you have to swallow twice, force your mind to concentrate on the words instead of the way his hand unravels you, again, “Want to give him an invitation?”
“Might ‘ave to, the way you’re gettin’ worked up so fast.” His laugh is just the slightest bit mean. “If ‘e was ‘ere, I bet ‘e’d already be fuckin you. Nice’n slow, like this, give this greedy cunt everythin’ she wants while I’m recoverin’.”
His cock is thick against your hip, not quite hard again, yet. The way he nudges his hips into you makes you want to spread your legs, so you do. And then you’re moaning into his mouth as his fingers massage steadily against your g-spot. Without your input, your hips rock up, chasing that sensation, trying to coax him to move faster.
“Look’t you, pretty. So needy. What kinda man would I be if I wasn’t makin’ sure you’re taken care of, hm? Bet Kyle’d be real nice to you, ‘specially sweet as y’are right now. Soft ‘n wet, fuck, gushin’ all over ‘is cock jus’ like this. Messy, but ‘e wouldn’ mind.”
The building pleasure makes you pant up at him, eyes locked on his face. He looks hungry, the corner of his mouth quirked up to expose some of his teeth. A part of you realizes that he’s excited at the way he can thrill you, certainly, but this isn’t just for you, is it? He likes that you like the idea, but it’s his fantasy, his friend that he’s imagining fucking you.
“Si-” you whimper.
“Yeah. Gonna make ‘im work for you to say ‘is name?” he growls, crowding even closer and using one of his legs to spread yours further. He doesn’t speed up, but his fingers press harder, just where you want and need it to start really working toward another peak. “No, I don’t think so. I think once you start thinkin’ wi’ that pretty pussy, y’ gonna cry so pretty, callin’ for ‘im to speed up, get you right where you wanna be. Say his name nice, I bet ‘e’d give you whatever y’ want.”
You whimper as his other hand captures your wrists and presses them into the pillow. “Simon!”
“Yeah, y’ gonna come? Wonder if ‘e could resist comin’ w’ you squeezin’ all around ‘im. ‘Specially if ‘e gets his mouth on y’r tits. Bet e’ tries, but can’t. Bet ‘e gives you those deep strokes y’ like so much, fucks ‘imself deep and makes a pretty mess f’ me to fuck back int’ ya.”
The orgasm crests, easy and overwhelming and wet. Simon growls, shifting over you until he can remove his fingers and push his cock into you in three hard shoves. His groan almost drowns out the wet noises of skin against skin, but every thrust seems louder than the one before. All of your senses are filled with him, his panting breaths, his thick waist between your legs.
You wonder, wildly, if Kyle would hold you while Simon chases his orgasm in your body.
It’s so unexpected, so jarring, that your belly flips and your body locks up, again. An embarrassing noise squeezes past your throat, you think, as your arms wrap around Simon’s neck again. He feels it, of course, and laughs breathlessly as he lifts your leg so he can fuck himself even deeper.
“Ah!”
“Yeah,” he pants into your mouth. “One more, pretty, ‘m close, jus’ a little more, jus’ like that.”
You can’t make your tongue cooperate, but you try, “K-Ky! Please, Simon.”
He groans like you’ve wounded him and presses close and deep, until you can’t catch your breath. His cock jerks so hard that it pulls a gasp from you, and you bury your face in his shoulder as he huffs like a bull into your hair. His muscles are so rigid that your fingers slip on his sweat, but still, you wrap yourself around him the best you can as you both shake.
You stay like that for a beat, and then his breath explodes from between his lips. The muscles holding him up go slack, all at once, and he barely manages not to land directly on you as he collapses. You’re still a bit squished under him, but there’s just enough space that you can gulp a couple of hot breaths.
A giggle ripples out of you. “Oh my god. You want to fuck Kyle.”
“Fuck,” he laughs. “’S that all you got out of that?”
“You came when I said his name!”
Simon laughs, breathlessly against your hair. “You came thinkin’ about ‘im.”
“Yeah.” Post orgasm, it’s easy to admit. You pet a hand over his side, then tweak his hip. “Does that mean you actually want to fuck Kyle?”
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” He scrubs a hand over his face and props himself up on one elbow. “Give me twenty minutes, Bambi, I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs.”
In spite of his words, he’s smiling, warm and happy. You hum as he dips down for a slow kiss. A yawn interrupts you, first you, then him, and you giggle again as he flops back into the bedding.
Johnny's never had Dairy Queen. You're going to fix that.
[soap x reader; nsfw 18+, explicit sexual content, afab!reader, sticky situations, car sex, oral, squirting, short drabble
'blizzard' prompt from @beebymoonlight + one-word prompt masterlist]
"They didn't do the thing!" You whine as the two of you leave the store.
"Do wha'?"
"They didn't flip it! That's the whole point!"
Summer sun hits your face the moment Johnny pushes the door open, heat thick enough to choke on. In your hand, a blue cup of Mocha Mudpie beckons—unflipped, uninitiated.
Johnny gives you a weird look as you head towards the car, his own cup of Peanut Butter Cookie Dough slowly sweating beads of water.
"Why would they dae that?"
The car, even when parked in the shady corner of the small lot, is stuffy when you hop in. Should've left it running.
"'Cause they're supposed to! And if it falls out, then it's free."
You flip it.
It stays.
"See? They could've totally flipped it—fuck!"
You should have just let it go while you had the chance.
The blizzard is all over you now—somehow splattering over your chest, the front of your tank top, and all over your lap. You tighten your legs to keep the cold creaminess from dripping deeper into your thighs.
"Napkins—fuck, Johnny, napkins!"
Flailing your free hand, you motion at Johnny for help. He doesn't answer. You look up.
He's stiff. Eyes trained, locked in on the trail of ice cream dripping down your chest. They flicker down, landing on the melting mess pooling between your thighs. A look emerging on his face.
(You've seen it a few times, the same one that takes over whenever there's wires for him to cut.)
Your voice finds itself with an embarrassing tremble.
"Johnny?"
He snaps out of the haze, a jolt that’s barely there.
"Fuck, bonnie—sorry, dinnae mean to stare, s'just," His eyes glaze over again the moment they land back on your sticky body. "Here, let me jus—"
—do you remember how you ended up in the back seat?
No.
Or how Johnny ended up between your legs?
Also no.
It's okay, though, at least that's what he keeps telling you while nose-deep in your sticky cunt.
"S'alright, bonnie, mmph," his lashes tickle your thighs. "Gotta clean ye up s'more—"
It's what he said thirty minutes ago, when he first started lapping at the coffee flavored ice cream on your chest and sucking your sugary nipples. Twenty, when he threw your legs up, shoved your thighs open, and attached his hot mouth onto your clit.
Ten, when he slid thick fingers inside your pussy and fucked it hard until creamy slick covered his hands and your body shook with how hard you came.
Gotta make sure ta clean yer cunt, bonnie.
Filthy, filthy sounds keep echoing through the car. The squeak of leather peeling from your sweaty skin, the crinkling of his pants as he grinds against the seat. The moans you're trying so hard to hold back, each slurp Johnny makes as his tongue dips into your pulsing hole and drags up your clit.
(You really shouldn't be doing this in broad daylight.
You really, really shouldn't, really—)
"Cunt's sweeter than the fuckin' dessert, fuck, bon—"
You're feeling too much.
It's hot—too hot. Hair clinging to your neck and face. Wet leather sticking to you in weird places. Your body feels like it's on the verge of going numb.
Oh, but it's so, so good.
"Fuck, Johnny, haah," you paw at his shirt, head lolling. His fingers are hitting that spot again; it's driving you insane. "G-gonna cum again—mmh!"
His tongue flutters over your clit, tracing flat circles as your body overflows with blinding pleasure once more. Your thighs shudder, closing in on his head—it doesn't deter him though, no. If anything, Johnny fucks you even harder. Stretches you even further as his fingers rub and curl inside of you.
"Cream on me, bon, c'mon—"
"Oh, fu—aah!"
It hits you hard—your body convulsing as your orgasm breaks. Something throbs inside of you, a pressure welling up from deep inside your pussy, wet and hot. Too much, too much!
But there's not much you can do than let it take over you, with how uncontrollably you're trembling, the aftershocks of bliss still going strong.
When you finally come to, it's from the feeling of something wet against your aching cunt.
"Made another mess," Johnny tuts. He's staring up at you, face wet, tongue already lapping up your sweet juices.
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