하루살이

MY FAVORITES

Invitation | Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, sub male reader: cheeky bastard, wanting more and more [18+]

I love you so | Ajay Ghale, dom male reader: it was just a drug induced wet dream… yeah, that’s it… [18+]

Seven minutes in heaven | Unspecified male character, subbot male reader: the mask stays ON during sex! [18+]

EVERYTHING ELSE (NEW TO OLD)

A Little | Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, dom male reader: what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t help you check for ed? [18+]

Infer | Triangle Guard, sub male reader: how’d you get in this predicament… [18+]

Sweaty | Lo Wang, domtop male reader: his ego is big but y’know what else is big? [18+]

Berlin | Keegan P. Russ, male/gn reader: yes Keegan is cute—the human one is too

Seven minutes in heaven | Unspecified male character, dom(?) male reader: scare actor duo type shit where he’s a little too eager to choke on your dick [18+]

Ultraviolet | König, subbot male reader: he calls you good girl, you squirt, isn’t that fitting? [18+]

Rush | Simon “Ghost” Riley, subtop male reader: he hates you, you hate him, what else is there to it? Love? [18+]

Dance | Various/open male character(s), male reader: fluff, care to dance? What kind of lover would he be if he refused?

Closer | John Price, subbot male reader: why was he jealous..? he can’t remember [18+]

Love is banned | Simon “Ghost” Riley, male/gn reader: angst no comfort

I love it | Vladimir Makarov, sub male reader: asphyxiation? really? [18+]

Drive | Simon “Ghost” Riley, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, subbot male reader: don’t their hands feel so good? [18+]

Same scent | John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, male/gn reader: gaz has the best kisses, or does he? [16+]

Muse (small idea) | Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, male/gn reader

XXXKirby | Simon “Ghost” Riley, Keegan P. Russ, König, male/gn reader: ever thought how they’d respond to getting head? [18+]

There’s not enough words in the English language to describe how much you’ve missed him.

You’re near him in a second, lips meeting his. Short kisses at first, tentative as if you’re scared of letting him go again; then delving into deeper ones as hands wonder, him savoring each one like he’s apologizing for leaving you alone once more. He leans back onto the couches arm, eagerly pulling you in with no space in between. The whiskey on his tongue adds only fuel to the fire.

“Missed you,” a kiss, “a lot.” A murmur against his lips (you even miss feeling his mutton chops). Your hands grasp his waist and prod, seemingly to confirm he’s really home and not just a figment of your desires.

“Missed ya,” he rasps, a grin on his lips that you so desperately want to kiss off. “Thought ‘bout ya on the ride home.”

“Not anytime else?” You muse, his hands feeling your body in tandem until he finds his place around your nape. “Thought I’d have more of your attention by now.”

John’s chuckle is replaced by a groan, head tilting to give you more access to his neck. He suppresses a shiver as hands dip under his sweatshirt and splay across his back (waist solid but soft, a personal favorite of yours), ring icy cold yet warm. It’s never felt better to be on him. “My husbands always on my mind.”

Your heart hammers against ribs, pulling away from his red neck to press your mouth on his once more. He swallows your groan, greedily locking lips until both are wet and bruised.

He’s home. Fuck, he’s really home.

But your rumination extinguish the flames.

He’s home…

“Tired of missing you.” You quietly confess, stopping your motions while slumping your head on his chest, not daring to make eye contact. The position makes your back hurt but it lightens in his arms.

“Darlin’, I—“

“If that mortar didn’t hit—if I was more careful,” there’s a calloused hand gently caressing the hair at your nape, hands gripping his sweatshirt. “We wouldn’t be a thousand kilometers apart.”

John’s eyes soften, an air of silence as he broods a response (there’s yet to be a correct one).

“‘M here now.”

“There’s gotta be a reason, it ain’t good for ya.” He prods. “We could—“

“No.”

“Didn’t even finish what I was gonna say!”

“I know you man, we aren’t watching porn.”

A lot of begging later (okay fine, maybe you were curious how he’s really packing), you finally agree to watch porn with him. There’s a dumb grin on his face as he boots up his laptop, conveniently already on a porn site. Whatever, you don’t question it. He puts on a video of someone you don’t care to look at, loud moans escaping the speakers.

A boring ten minutes pass and you could feel how Johnny kept looking over like he was waiting for you to pop one out (he was). You could almost make out a pout on his lips.

“We done now?”

“You’re still not hard?” He questions, motioning to his hardness. “Sure you don’t got ED?” He doesn’t wait for a response as a hand reaches out to grab hold of your sweat’s waist band. You don’t move to stop him, challenging his action.

“I’m startin’ to think you just wanna see my dick.” You joke, but the blush on his face proves your words true. “No fuckin’ way…”

His heads thrown back, sweat dripping down his neck as he swallows hard. Your cock against his, thighs pressed on top of yours and he knows he’ll have wet dreams of this for months.

“Still here?” A guttural groan answers your question. You tut, a faux frown he doesn’t see. “Gonna need words, numpty.”

Johnny’s whole body twitches at that, face flushing red. “H-how do you—“

Your thumb presses onto his tip, pre pooling out that you scoop up and spread into his happy trail. His stomach tenses but fuck was that hot, just how much of a pervert was he?

“C’mon, tell me how you feel.” A glob of saliva drips from your tongue onto both dicks, helping the glide and leading a shudder out of him.

“I—fuck, I uh,” his eyes squeeze shut, brain trying to form a response that satisfies you but you’re rubbing his tip so well nothings forming.

“You got a brain in there, use it.” A hand fondles his balls, groping and compressing as if you’re trying to jumble his words.

“It’s good—fuck, s’good.” Johnny whines, accent steadily increasing with your hands’ intensity.

“There ya go,” he can hear the condescension in your tone, “wasn’t so hard, was it.”

Even with his head thrown back he still nods, disagreeing with your words but not willing to explain why (as if you can’t form a reason). There’s a forearm preventing you from seeing his watery eyes, but you don’t mind. He’s so responsive, after all; a twist of your wrist has him biting his lip, a brush against his crown makes his sturdy stomach contract, and the way his adam apples bobs when you trace his perineum…

Perfect material for months.

There’s a sudden hand at your nape and he pulls you in, a free hand catching the weight to not topple him before lips meet and he finally catches you by surprise. Johnny swallows your groans while rutting against you and your hand, pace stuttering when the pleasure gets a little too much or your hand wonders low.

There’s sweat forming on your brow and a heat sneaking on your face, breaking the unaffected façade you’re pulling. Grabbing a hand of his, you guide it to clamp around both cocks and he inhales at how thick yours fill his palm.

“Squeeze harder,” you murmur, “fuckin’ mean it.” The hand on your nape pulls you in closer which prompts the slick hand to press onto his jaw and force it wider. He can taste the mix of pre that only serves to make him harder. The flavor combines with your saliva, aiding him on devouring your lips. Alas, your ego’s too big to comply with his sudden dominance, so you force his head to tilt back further, baring his tanned neck and letting his mohawk brush against your sheets.

He’s close, you can tell with the way the fingers’ pressure on your nape differs as if he’s debating and the words he struggles to get out between saliva swapping. Your attention turns to his neck while he gasps for air, head fuzzy before his focus is brought down to the way you bite and suck into his neck. Johnny’s mouth opens, presumably to speak or moan, yet the words die with bated breaths while your tongue soothes the marks and lap up the sweat of his neck then back up to consume his lips.

And because he’s greedy, the hand around both dicks abandons yours and slip onto his, pace and hips stuttering as groans are muffled by your lips. The hand on your nape squeezes, thumb pressing against his meatus and his stomach tenses before thick off white ropes spill out, covering your own and abdomen due to how close you are. He jerks himself through it, chest heaving as you finally part. The string of saliva breaks when you lean back, mouth wet before licking your lips with a satisfied exhale.

His motion stops when your hand brushes his away and replaces it, breath heavy and lips bruised red. “Least,” a pant, “I don’t have ED—“ a broken moan cuts off his taunt, your hand slowly jerking him and squeezing out every last drop. He bites back a tear, “fuck…” the word is so weak, barely audible as your free hand dips into his cum on your stomach, smearing it off before sliding the coated fingers into his mouth. Johnny willingly swallows them, tasting himself while his thighs and stomach tremble at every pull and stroke.

“Guess we’re gonna have to keep goin’, then.” You’re leaning over him once more, a hand pulling away the sweats’ band from under your balls, leaving a heavy leaking cock in perfect view. There’s a hungry heat in your eyes, head tilted like you know he’s going to comply with whatever you say next and a dangerous grin on your lips.

But alas, your stall door gets kicked open, thudding against the inside of your covered thigh, exposing you to a triangle guard with a rifle. You try to stifle a laugh at how idle he is, and despite a mask covering his features, you just know he’s questioning what the hell is wrong with you.

“Aish,” you mumble, tightening the grip around yourself, “what should I do? Jerk off or try to will it down?” You glance at the barrel of the guards rifle before shifting to his mask, intentionally smearing the blood from your hand to your dick. “What do you think?”

A moment passes, long enough to almost get embarrassed of your own actions, before the guard shifts and closes the stall behind him. “Oh?” You try to calm your nerves. “What’s this?” A muffled sound—an intake of breath perhaps—comes out of him before he leans his rifle against the stall. You don’t comment that he didn’t turn the safety on. He doesn’t respond (of course not), but he smacks your hands away from yourself and unties the jacket around your waist. “What’re—“

The question gets cut short as he covers your head in it, a hand harshly places itself against your mouth to shut you up. He shifts and suddenly there’s a gloved hand around your cock, a curse leaving you gets dampened in volume. The glove is rough in texture and feels so weird, your blocked vision only making the experience more intense.

Your thighs tense instinctively when he starts moving; slowly at first, as if he’s still unsure on whether he should do this or not, then quickens as your pre lubricates the glide. Fuck, this might be the worst handjob you’ve ever got but damn, it feels so good at the same time. Was it the limited sense? You might have to try this another time if you survive.

Moans are muffled at every other drag of his hand, stomach tensing and your eyes shut in blissful ignorance as the jacket starts to fall down. He notices instantly, the hand on your mouth leaving to press the jacket firmly against your eyes. It forces a flinch and groan out of you, yet his hand never stopped for a second.

There’s movement you don’t hear behind the squelches from below and your own baited breaths and groans insulated from the jacket. A sudden new sensation wraps around your tip—unbelievably warm and wet. God, is that his mouth? A moan rips through out and you have half the mind to slam a hand over your covered mouth, a whole body jerk forces him to unintentionally deep throat.

You don’t hear the choked sound from him over your own ragged breath and beating heart, fabric soaking up tears as it escapes. Every sensation is amplified from the deprivation. The guards throat is tight and swallows you whole. A free hand shoots out to grip onto his covered wrist, it misses due to the blindness he forces on you, but eventually finds him.

“Excuse you?” He gasps offendedly. “Who’s the one fighting demons on a literal fucking otherworldly dragon?” Lo Wang unsheathes his sword with a smirk. “Me. You’re welcome. Now apologize to my massive balls.”

You choke on the fish at his words, coughing pathetically as Hoji tries to pat your back. “Get a load of this guy,” you finally choke out, “you woke the fucking thing up, your balls aren’t massive.”

“He’s got you there.”

“Shut up, Hoji. You’re just jealous the girls love my big dick. It’s in the name, Lo Wang.”

He didn’t expect for you took that as a challenge.

“This little thing?” He hears you tease, fingers wrapped around his cock, completely covering it. “This can’t please anything. It’s almost cute.” That was a lie, it is cute, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“S-shut up!” Lo Wang stutters out, a hand covering his eyes to shield himself from your perverted actions. His body twitches when your fist squeezes his dick, a faux frown on your face at his words.

“Still all high and mighty? Look at you, your dick isn’t even half my size, pathetic.” You scoff, nails digging into his thigh. Hoji stares intensely as you compare your dick to Lo Wang’s, not even half your length and it has Hoji gulping. He watches as your thumb presses against Lo Wang’s tip, smearing the pre cum.

“What is with you humans and comparing sizes?” He finally vocalizes, claws digging into the floor to not get closer and see for himself.

You hum and clasp a hand over Lo Wang’s mouth before he can speak. “Ego,” he tries to bite your hand but the tight squeeze of the hand around his dick forces him to muffle out a groan instead. “But he, specifically, is just a little bitch with a big mouth. Sometimes you just gotta show him his place.”

Before Hoji can ask another question, Lo Wang throws his head back with a muffle moan as you finally push into his slick and prepped hole. You move your hand down to his throat and keep it there, not enough pressure to choke him, but enough for him to feel it.

“A-asshole—“ Lo Wang gasps, fingers itching for any of his weapons. “Could’ve warned—“ your fingers prod into his mouth and hold down his tongue, effectively stopping his complaints. He nearly bites off your fingers when he feels your tip brush against his prostate.

“See?” You tut disapprovingly, glancing at Hoji’s mask as Lo Wang moans pathetically under your slow thrusts. “All that talk about women yet he moans like one under my touch.”

Hoji unclenches his claws from the clawed up floor before tilting his head at Lo Wang. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a bottom.” He tries not to think about how attractive your chuckle was.

“Your cunts suckin’ me in, baby.” You flick the tip of Lo Wang’s leaking cock, wet squelches coming from his ruined hole. “Soaking wet and loose too, you sure no one else been here but me?” His face flushes red at your words, mouth opening to retort but the insults die on his tongue with a harsh thrust. You grip his jaw with that annoying grin of yours before angling his face towards Hoji’s masked one.

“Why don’t you give Hoji a good show, pookie.”

Or how Keegan would give you the most unimpressed and disappointed look whenever you fail at doing something. You could practically hear the complaints of ‘why would you think you could do that’ and, ‘why would you wake me up?’.

Or when Keegan would do some unhinged and out of pocket shit sometimes, and everyone unanimously agrees the human Keegan did that because yeah, he’s (was?) a marine; marines do some weird shit— like that one time you saw a marine using a spiked dildo to deep-throat another marine who was laying on the ground. And bro just took it cause he ‘wanted to see if he could’ (legit watched a vid about this).

Admittedly you should’ve questioned them— especially those two marines, yet didn’t cause you didn’t know what power they held—but you also guessed they would’ve had the brain power to think that maybe your Keegan isn’t the Keegan they know.

But, oh well, mistakes happen. Even if that mistake lasted for nearly a month. Maybe they just didn’t like cats? Or were too afraid to question a superior?

It wasn’t until Hesh looked over your shoulder when you got sent a video from a family member recording them repeatedly saying ‘no’ to Keegan, which of course cats don’t listen, who then knocks over the glass of (what you guess) is whiskey and a disappointed sigh is heard, that the truth revealed itself.

“Cute cat, though I’m more of a dog guy myself. What’s its name?” He comments (like you didn’t already know Riley) while replaying the video, the phone still in your hand.

With a roll of your eyes you answered a simple, “Keegan.” Que the confused look from him and Logan (was he there the whole time?), and of course you had to explain to them that no, you didn’t name the cat after the real Keegan, and yes, if they get the chance they can pet him.

“Wait, so this whole time you weren’t talking about how cute Sergeant Keegan is?”

Ruining you with it on? God, he doesn’t think he can get any harder. You know just the right words to keep him going. With new fervor he readjusts the grip on your hip while a free hand flattens between your shoulder blades, guiding you into that familiar arch he loves.

“The things you do to me…” he mumbles more to himself than anything else. Hips resume its fast pace, your nails digging into the wall as paint chips and falls off. You curse him out at the sudden pace, yet it seems the words do nothing to falter his tempo.

You turn your head to the side to his, a loose grip forming around his nape as you pull him in. He nearly short circuits when your tongue sticks out and laps at the mask, licking then kissing the spot his lips would be. His rapid heartbeat dampens the short, breathy moans you let out.

Shit, maybe he doesn’t like the mask on thing anymore. He wants to kiss you so bad. Pry your lips open to expose teeth, tug your tongue out with his fingers, taste your teeth and tongue and swallow your moans. Feel you gasp into his mouth as he reaches that perfect spot deep within you.

“You’re killin’ me here.” A harsh grip lands on your thigh—surely leaving bruises—and tugs the leg out and up, forcing you onto one leg. The new position makes him hold up majority of your weight, somehow reaching deeper than before as you groan against his mask.

He feels so good, so deep inside you. His thick cock glides against your walls, bullying your prostate with every thrust. You didn’t know this position could feel so vulnerable. Hands cross against one another on the wall in front of you, forming a cushion so his pounding doesn’t give you a concussion (not that he’d let that happen).

His resolve is slowly breaking. He can’t help it, you just feel so good. Loose yet tight, pre gushing out after every thrust, insides so warm the heats getting to his head—the mask a hotbox of carbon dioxide and heat. You let out a needy moan as he shifts your body, lifting you up further so your foot can barely reach the ground. The way he’s practically manhandling you makes you mental.

He groans when your hole clenches at the change, head dipping down and the mask presses between your shoulder blades, wishing he could bite into your nape and mark up your backside. He kneads your thigh with the hand that holds it up, focusing on the feel and how his cock slides in and out of you so easily instead of disobeying your request.

Toes curls when he’s balls deep, moans ripping through your chest and his groans muffled beneath the mask. Your cock bobs with his thrusts and pre dribbles down its length, adding to the squelching noises once it reaches your perineum. His grips deadly and the angle he’s holding your thigh feels like it’s cutting the circulation off. Your body trembles against his, curses mixed with his name leaving you as your release splatters onto the wall.

Your head dips into the wall with a light thud, hole clenching harsh around his cock. He swallows his groans and clenches his teeth, hips stuttering as he bottoms out. A whimper rips past your throat at the feel of his cum filling you up. Sweat dampens his hair and wets the mask and there’s a shit eating grin on his lips that you know is there.

The moment his hands loosen you crumble to the floor, legs weak as you kneel forward, pearly white slipping out of your loose hole to splatter onto tiles. His slick, cum covered dick hangs heavy while your own cock still leaks cum as the rest trickles down the wall.

A low whistle rings out behind you, a smug lilt in his voice as he speaks despite thinking he’d have a heart attack mere moments ago. “My dick that good, huh?” The words go in one ear and out the other, a near deafening ringing in your head as you pant to catch your breath.

You nod.

As customers, you don’t touch scare actors. Sometimes you’ve even overheard ‘don’t touch scare actors and they won’t touch you’.

But they never said anything about scare actors touching other scare actors.

And he takes advantage of that, fully.

He kneels between your legs, hands already undoing your belt with purpose, hooking the boxers beneath your limp dick (he pouts at that, isn’t he hot enough to at least get a half chub?). “Fuck, been waitin’ for this all night. Every time you towered over them, threatening them—wanted that to be me. Been holdin’ it in for so long. Help me out, please?”

“You’re fucked.”

He grins, ruined makeup hiding the blush on his cheeks as his hot tongue licks up from the base to tip. “Perfect job then, right?”

He palms himself through his pants, shamelessly hard and aching. He can’t help but swallow you whole, groaning against it and winning a tempting sigh from you. He bares his teeth on the way up—lightly—but it forces a shudder out of you, fingers tightening in his hair as you pull.

“Watch it.” You muttered, hooking your idle thumb in the corner of his lips and twisting your wrist, forcing him to expose teeth as saliva pools out. What a view. You could practically see the hearts in his eyes when he feels your dick get fully erect.

Theres faint screaming from patrons and speakers and you try to use that to ignore how sinfully good his mouth is. Unfortunately for you, he’s fucking good with his mouth, and a loud bastard. Slurping and choking himself on your dick, slick noises and moans muffled from his throat. You’d swear he’s the one getting a blowjob if it wasn’t for the fact sucking you off is a guilty pleasure of his.

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans at every swipe of his tongue. Thrusts are slow and deep, tip grinding into your prostate at every chance he can get, like it’s second nature (it is). A thick hand reaches around your hip—ignoring your leaking cock—palm flat near your navel where he knows he’ll be and pressing hard.

The sudden orgasm wracks through you with a choked moan, body trembling as white squirts onto the bedsheets below. Fuck! Has all those porno bl’s gotten to your head? There’s no fuckin’ way you squirted—you thought that was only in fiction! You can feel your face heat up from embarrassment.

“Scheiße…” König breathes while slowing to a stop, eyes wide while watching your form tremble from the aftershocks. Could you get any hotter?

“D-don’t get bigger—!” The hand on your hips doesn’t stop you from weakly pulling yourself off him—globs of lube and precum slipping out with his still hard cock—the pressure on your prostate getting too much.

“Little maus,” he muses, a hand reaching out to grab hold of your weak leg, “where you off to now?” He tugs lightly—as if you weighed next to nothing—just enough to pull you back in place and guiding you back into an arch, ass pressed against hips as his red tip leaks. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“Can’t believe I fuckin’ squirted…” you mumble into the fresh cleaned sheets (courtesy of him), eyeing König as he looks away sheepishly, perverse his physique. He wrings a damp cloth out, forcing that image out of his head less he wants to get hard again.

König mumbles apologizes as the cloth unconsciously makes you flinch in spite of him soaking it in warm water. He’s gentle around your ass and perineum, turning a blind eye to the fingerprints and hickeys he’s made, a feeling akin to embarrassment or shame (and pride) at the sight. He can only hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

His tongue brushes against the cut on your lip, blood catching on it as he licks it into your mouth. The metallic taste clashes with saliva that causes you to let out a pathetic sounding groan.

“…you piss me off..”

There’s a lilt in his voice as he responds, “good,” and sinks back down on the remaining centimeters of your dick. The nails in his thighs dig deep enough for blood to bubble to the surface, the tips of your fingers—intentionally or not—smearing it across the expanse of his thighs and hips.

Simon swallows the moan you make. The glare he hates to admit he finds attractive has your eyebrows furrowed, staring into his like you’re trying to uncover something. Don’t look at me with the those eyes, he wants to say, but instead he nips at your cut lip and rolls his hips.

Your reaction is immediate: a twitch to the eye and the hold on him tightens. “Trying to suck me dry?”

“Somethin’ of the sort…” he mumbles, trailing the blood into your mouth once again as his lips syncs with yours. The hand on your jaw reaches towards your nape, pulling you in ever so forcefully like you’d actually try to leave. Fuck, why do his lips feel like they belong against yours?

His dicks leaks pre cum at every roll of his hips, grinding down just right that has him panting between lips locking. You can feel how wet his cock is, smearing and rubbing against your abdomen, and the way his hole clenches every time your hips meet.

A string of saliva breaks as he pulls away, licking away any wetness or blood. His labored breaths and short groans giving away how good your dick is. His free hand switches to the headboard, holding it for more leverage as the other tangles itself into the back of your hair.

You trail your hand to his stuffed opening, feeling how sticky it is. There’s probably a frothy ring of white around your base. His body stutters the moment your fingers spread him even farther open, lube and pre dripping out at the looseness.

Ghost opens his mouth to question you, but the words get replaced with a strained moan as your head tilts down to his built chest and bites his nipple. The headboard cracks under his hand, splinters imbedding in his palm as the orgasm wracks through his body, the tips of his ears a bright red.

Shit, why does it feel like your body belongs against his?

You hate him.