#soap’s got a collar again

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Possessive soap is so babygirl

I saw the collar post and it made me think what if he wore charms at the end of the collar it has a hook and it dangles over his neck. I feel like he has charms for people he holds dear he just one day came in with his collar around his neck but with a little skull ghost almost didn’t notice it after he did he couldn’t speak. He has one for könig, Rudy, Alejandro, gaz, price, ect.

Honestly aye! 😂 I love possessive Soap, specially when it’s baby girl possessive Soap, that’s always fun.

Oh and the charm thing is just *chefs kiss* I’ve been trying to think up the different charms everyone has but it’s kinda hard honestly. Some are pretty self explanatory though.

Price would have a cigar, Rudy a heart (because that’s what they gave him in game), Ghost (obviously) a skull and I reckon König would either have a sniper or the KorTac logo given his affiliation and all.

But Alejandro and Gaz? I have no idea what they could have. Maybe a cowboy hat for Alejandro and something representing the SAS for Gaz? I’m not too sure.

Anyway! I reckon Ghost would definitely do a spit take when he realised Soap has a charm for him on his collar and would be blushing down to his toes with the display of it.

Alejandro would most definitely become unbelievably horny and stare Soap down like he could devour him with his eyes alone.

Rudy would probs have such a mixed reaction. Like he’d be wildly pleased and smug but he’d also become endlessly embarrassed as well and it’s honestly adorable.

König would definitely get a possessive thrill out of it, especially if his charm ended up being the KorTac logo. He would be so fuckin chuffed and boastful about it that the others would probably threaten to hide his charm just to get him to stop.

Gaz and Price feel touched that Soap considers them that important. Like they know it’s not a romantic thing so they don’t really pay it much mind but Soap had looked so pleased with himself when he had managed to find charms that represented them that they couldn’t really help but feel happy over it.

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Same warnings as last time for dub con and general Johnny nastiness.

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

141 + los vaqueros + könig with an s/o who is kind of naive and innocent being called dumb?? Just how they would react and comfort their s/o <33 thank you lovely!!!!

I love big strong men standing up for their sweet little s/o 😭

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

You gotta have some kinda death wish

I can’t imagine him getting violent off whip, his main concern would be removing you from the situation and providing comfort

However, that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t memorized who that person is, their face, their voice, their tone, their words

And that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t track them down later and give them a piece of his mind

Before he does that, his concern is you, he’s got your favorite show playing and he’s telling you it’s not worth thinking about what they said, he wishes he can take his own advice but when you’re curled up against his chest sniffling with a quivering lip, he’s imagining how satisfying it would be to run his fist through their face

Once you’ve fallen asleep, he’s tracking them down and when he finds them, in seconds he’s gripping the front of their shirt, lifting them slightly, their back bruising against the wall he’s pushing them against

“If I ever hear your voice again, I’ll crush your fuckin’ throat, am I clear?”

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He loves your sweet, good natured spirit, it gives him such genuine joy

He’s the only one that can poke fun at you because he’s not being malicious about it, it comes from a place of love and endearment

So when he sees a recruit making fun of you for it, he kinda loses it a little bit

Just like Ghost, his main concern is removing you from that situation but at the same time he’s pissed

So he’s wedging himself between you two with a strong emphasis on the person bringing you down, his chest is all puffed up, shoulders square, and he’s got the angriest look in his eyes

“Care to repeat what you said?”

He might not be as scary or intimidating as Ghost but that doesn’t mean that his strength is just for show either

The recruit backs away almost immediately but doesn’t get very far before Johnny grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back

“The next time I catch you even looking at them, you’ll be so fucking sorry.” The poison in his words thickening his accent in his throat and the poor idiot was tripping over his feet trying to get away

In seconds, Johnny turned to face you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your forehead

“C’mon darlin, let’s get somethin’ sweet for my sweet somethin’.” He teased with a wink and a bump of his hips against yours

John Price:

He loves your innocence honestly, it’s so refreshing for him

Like the first drink of ice water after spending a day in the desert heat, it soothes him as much as it concerns him

He teases you about it both out of love and genuine concern, he’s not always around and it worries him how innocent and kind you are

And then while you’re all out getting drinks and wrapping up a hard day’s work, he sees you getting picked on, he sees your shoulders slump ever so slightly and he crossed the room in seconds

Honestly? He doesn’t even have to say anything, his body language, his demeanor, the vicious look in his eyes, all speak volumes to how bad this guy fucked up

He stood behind you, a hand on your shoulder and whispering loving words in your ear, you’re a little confused as you walk back to the group, looking over your shoulder, not thinking to look in front of you (luckily Johnny gets hold of you before you walk into someone)

You can’t hear what he’s saying but you get the sense it’s pretty bad considering the guy loses all color in his face and sweat starts to bead on his brow

You wave at John with a smile as he walks back to you, he gathers you in his arms and pulls you in for a kiss

An offer of home and comfort shortly followed

How could you possibly refuse?

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Oh honey he’s poking fun at you very often, but always out of love, he loves your naivety and will often use it to tease you

He loves seeing you get all worked up, cheeks puffed up and an embarrassed blush on your cheeks when he calls you out on it, it warms his heart as much as it makes him wanna give you big ol’ smooch

However

He’s the only one allowed to do it

So when he sees one of the cadets try to pull one over you the way he does, but in a much meaner fashion that has embarrassed tears welling in your eyes, he sees red

He’s at your side in a matter of seconds, chest pushing against the other guy as he backs him away from you, he’s so angry he doesn’t know what to say, barely manages to put a filter on his words

“Think you’re so fuckin’ funny do ya? Makin’ ‘em upset, who the fuck do ya think you are?”

John has to step in and get between the two men, knowing full well how it’ll end, he physically turns Kyle around to face you and gives him a shove in your direction

Kyle takes your hand and walks away, grumbling all the while about how he should’ve punched the fuckers lights out, but when you lean into his side as you’re walking along, the anger starts to simmer and fade

It won’t be long before he’s mumbling an apology to you for how he reacted, just give him a kiss and he’ll be back to his normal self

König:

I mean… you gotta be some kinda stupid to mess with his s/o in any capacity, like have you seen him???

He’s never far from you, always in your peripheral or at your side, touching you in some way, it’s soothing for him to be around you and he knows you feel the same

So when he hears someone snap at you and call you dumb, he bites his cheek so hard he tasted blood

Without hesitation he pulled you away and behind him as he stood up at full height, glaring daggers at the man through the holes of his hood

He doesn’t even have to say anything, the angry rise and fall of his chest, the cold fury in his eyes, the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides are all indicators enough of his rage

The man couldn’t apologize and scramble away quick enough, tripping over a chair as he tried to make a hasty escape

König was frozen in place, so god damn angry that he couldn’t move, it took your small voice quietly calling his name for him to snap out of it, he turned to face you and gently took your hand in his, his thumb stroking over your knuckles

You smiled softly at him, even if he wasn’t looking directly at you, his eyes pinned to your hand in his, you gave it a gentle squeeze and he finally looked up at you

The adoration in your eyes enough to melt the fury and bring him back to himself, “Let’s go, schatz, you said you were hungry, yes?”

“A while ago, yeah.”

“Then let’s go remedy that.”

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro loves with his entire being, he’s so steadfast in his love that any slight against you, is a slight against him

“What the fuck did you say cabron?”

He’s up in arms almost immediately, hackles raised, nostrils flaring, fists clenched at his side and ready to swing

“Alejo, please, it’s fine.” He knew it wasn’t fine, he knew you wanted to put in a brave face but he didn’t miss the way your eyes watered or the way your jaw tensed when the insult was hurled at you

“No, amor, let him repeat himself. See if he’s man enough to say it again.”

He’s seeing red at this point, his heart is hammering in his chest and he’s ready to knock out the bastard

When he sees that the man is wide eyed, panicked, and stuttering out apologies, trying to gain some semblance of spine as he tries to make a hasty retreat, he backs off and moves closer to you

“Más le vale, cabron.” (Loose translation: that’s what I thought)

He’s got his arm around you and he’s walking you both away from scene,

“You didn’t have to do that, Ale.”

“What are you talking about, amor, of course I did. If you’re wounded, then so am I.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You teased with a small peck to his jaw, he chuckled and rested his head on yours as you both made your way home

Rodolfo Parra:

He’s too good for this world tbh he doesn’t give that idiot a second glance as he’s walking you away from him

He’s kissing your temple and shooting a glare over his shoulder, a promise of retribution in his eyes

“Don’t listen to them, mi vida.”

He’s nothing if not reassuring and comforting, he’s holding your hand and lovingly stroking it with his thumb

As he’s giving you a hug and kissing the top of your head, he’s thinking of all the ways he can wring the new recruit’s neck tomorrow

But that won’t stop him from spoiling you a little bit to cheer you up

Even if you’re insisting that you’re well over it and have moved past it, he’s just as insistent in getting your favorite food, watching your favorite movies

[multifandomimagin3s]

Reader sits on their face and breaks their neck - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

requested by @daniel-meyer-03 contains sexual content (obvs), minors dni

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He always encourages you to put your whole weight onto his face - doesn't matter what size you are, he loves being smothered by your thighs.

His tongue is lapping your wetness like a man starved, when he mis-times his movements completely, feeling his neck go 'pop.'

He halts his movements with a grunt, head falling flat against the mattress; you raise yourself back off his face so sit at his side, as his hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck.

"Ah shit, that doesn't feel good."

He'd be pissy in the ambulance, purely because he wasn't allowed to put his balaclava on before he left and he's not happy about the Paramedics seeing his face.

Since he's legally dead, I reckon Price would have to pull some strings to get him seen in a private hospital to try and keep things hush hush.

He would be a grumpy guy when he has to wear one of those neck supports for the next few weeks," I look like a twat."

Isn't annoyed at you in the slightest - in fact it's quite the opposite, you had to tell him 'no' more than once when he suggested you sit on his face again, neck brace be damned.

"Would be a hell of a way to die, Love."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

This would probably one of many sex-related injuries he's had in the past.

Pulled his hamstring and a few muscles in his back one night when you two were really going at it.

Slipped during shower sex and almost took you to the ground with him.

Has banged his head off the headboard during missionary more times than you can count.

So it's fair to say that considering he's in the SAS, he's really accident prone.

Would wear the neck brace with pride, wouldn’t care if the team took the piss out of him for it - and for how he got injured in the process.

Even when his neck was in agony, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Considering how this happened in the first place, cannae really complain, Darlin'."

If he felt any awkwardness he didn't show it - even in the Emergency Department, he wasn't shy when he was asked how he hurt himself, which made you flush bright red each time.

Would probably act like a big baby when he'd given medical leave.

Being able to just be with you, cuddling and spending time together, was amazing - and he'd been given 6 weeks off, so he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Oh, and like Ghost, he absolutely wouldn't be deterred by the experience in the slightest.

But is maybe a bit more mindful to put a pillow under his neck the next time he asks you to sit on his face.

Captain John Price

I reckon his neck is probably fucked already - like the muscles in his neck get so tight that sometimes he struggles to turn his head.

It's the norm for him.

But when he feels a sudden pop sensation just above his nape, he knows that something isn't right.

Probably would have encouraged you to continue riding his face if it wasn't for the intense pain shooting up his neck.

Would refuse to go to the hospital - "I've had worse on the field, Love, I'll be fine."

It wasn't until you pushed him into going for an x-ray that he realised he'd actually injured himself.

Wouldn't tell a soul what happened - not even the Doctors.

His private life stays just that - private.

Would grumble like an old man when he has to put the supportive collar on; "I look like a bloody dog when it's had its knackers cut off..."

Also wouldn't be annoyed at you at all - in fact, he promises that as soon as he's given the all clear to stop wearing "this bloody thing" he wants you back on his face.

Captains orders ~

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Mans is just confused as fuck.

One minute you're riding his face, his hands on your ass guiding your movements.

The next he's in agony - and then in an ambulance.

It isn't until a Doctor reviews his x-rays with him that he finally clicks on to what happened.

You rode his face...and broke his neck.

The realisation has him breaking into a fit of laughter - which mildly concerns the clinical staff.

He's in the military, risks his life on the regular - and the worst injury he's gained so far is from oral.

He's honestly nearly pissing himself from laughter, which makes you laugh too.

The neck brace doesn't even bother him one bit - the medical leave is a bonus in his eyes because he gets to spend more quality time with you.

Doesn't tell the Team how it happened - but Soap put the pieces together in his head, and is clapping Gaz on the back with booming laughter at the realisation.

"Fuckin' hell mate, that's one way tae do it!"

Alejandro Vargas

Like Soap, he's a bit too happy considering the situation he's in.

He's a passionate man, so getting an injury during sex doesn't bother him at all.

Usually he's very co-ordinated and he definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom.

So fuck knows how he managed to practically break his neck whilst you were riding his face.

One wrong jerky move of his head and the next - searing pain.

Also is a grumpy guy when he's wearing the neck brace.

Would definitely play on it a bit, giving you the big brown puppy dog eyes so you'd give him more cuddles and affection; "Mi Amor, it hurts less when you're by my side ~"

Definitely would still try and initiate sex despite being told to take it easy.

Would happily let you ride him on the couch - his typical positions weren't on the cards but any angle he gets of your amazing body brings him bliss.

Gets the brace off...and probably injures himself again because he was a bit too eager to finish what he started.

Rudy Parra

Like his comrade, he's also a very passionate lover.

Apparently, a bit too passionate.

Which is why he was currently sat on your couch, arms crossed over his chest with a slightly annoyed expression.

He's not annoyed at you - he's annoyed that he didn't get to finish what he started.

Rudy was having the time of his life, smothered between your thighs, and he probably would've kept going had it not been you that hurriedly hopped off his face when he let out a pained groan.

Would probably try and convince you to let him continue where you left off.

But the hospital staff would probably be less impressed if he ended up back in the Emergency Department because he hurt himself further.

So he waits...impatiently.

As soon as the Doctor gives him the all clear, he practically dives between your legs.

He has to make up for lost time ;)

König

The poor guy is mortified - he’s not angry at you, not one bit, but that trip to the hospital is one that he’ll never forget.

Doesn’t like social situations, or hospitals for that matter, so being in a busy A&E department really was making him feel gradually worse by the minute.

That and he still had a bit of a *ahem* problem since your activities got interrupted.

Wearing a neck brace wouldn't bother him too much - as long as he can still wear his hood, he's happy.

Speaking of which, imagine the poor doctors trying to persuade him to take it off so they can examine his neck.

Thankfully he doesn't have to go on-base wearing the support - he'd probably die of embarrassment if Horangi found out what exactly happened, because then the entire base would find out no doubt.

Somehow, his comrade finds out anyways, and texts his friend some thumbs up emojis; "Way to go, big guy, best way to end up in the ER ;)"

After he gets the brace off and has to take it easy for a bit he'd be a bit sad since having you sitting on his face is his all time favourite position :(

Still, he improvises - and when he has your knees pressed to your chest and his mouth is writing the alphabet between your thighs, you would never complain ~

[waves-against-a-cliff]

She-Wolf - Feral!Reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Violence, blood, descriptions of murder, smut, afab!fem!reader

Description - Soap notices something new about Ghost.

A/N - here it is @groguspicklejar I finally made it.

That's new.

Soap has never seen that before. In the military you get used to the general disregard for privacy. You shower together, sleep in the same place together, eat together and bleed together. So Soap has gotten used to the bodies of those around him. But also, he's always noticed when things on his teammates' bodies changed.

Like when Gaz got that new scar on his thigh. And like now, with a tattoo on Ghost. Which is odd, he's never seen a new one on him before, always that same sleeve. Weirder still... Is that a tattoo of a bite on his left arse cheek?

For a moment, Soap thinks his eyes are deceiving him so he rubs them. Ah fuck- his hands had soap on them. Fuckfuckfuck. He rinses his eyes out and then looks over at Ghosts arse again. No, that's definitely a tattoo of a bite, a nasty one too. Like someone just tried to get as much as his arse cheek in his mouth at once.

Soap jabs Gaz in the ribs, "What the fuck?" Gaz hissed but Soap redirects his attention.

"Do you see that?'

"Ghosts ass? Yes I've seen it before." Gaz replies but Soap shakes his head.

"No you dumb fuck, look closer."

Gaz squints and gasps. "Oh my God."

Soap grins at him, "I know. Hold on, I'm gonna ask him about it."

"Soap-"

"Hey LT." Ghost turns his head, a single brow raised. Soap had never been more grateful that Ghost had decided to suck up the communal showers. For both this moment and not having to deal with the vague smell of his BO on the flight back to the U.K. “What's with the new tattoo?”

“Yeah my girl’s a biter.” It's said so simply, Ghost turns and resumes washing himself. The soap suds run down his body and into the drain. Like he didn’t just say the most confusing shite ever.

“What?” Gaz laughs, “A biter?” Ghost shrugs and it dawns on Soap that he’s going to pull that classic Ghost move of saying out of pocket shite ever and then not elaborate.

A few months pass and Soap would like to say that he’s forgotten about it. That the bite mark tattoo did not haunt him and he didn’t- doesn’t- look at Ghost’s left butt cheek and wonder. Then they get a new mission and its all hands on deck, another task force joins in. Task force Medea. The 141 had worked with them a few times in the past, all very successful missions. The Medea task force was made up of seven women with varying skills but one always came to mind whenever Soap thought of the task force his mind wandered to She-wolf.

You’re wild, feral almost to a degree that makes him wonder how you managed to stay in the military. But your team members love you and when you’re not gnawing at the collar your captain tries to keep on you, you’re an amazing soldier.

“For this mission,” Price begins, standing at the head of the meeting table. On one side is Gaz, Ghost, and him. On the other is you and three other members of your task force (Viper, Circe and Artemis). Soap splits his attention between Price’s briefing (A terrorist group and cartel are working together to smuggle both weapons and people across the Polish and the Slovakian border) and you. You’re tapping your finger inaudibly, you keep glancing between Price and Ghost.

Despite having worked with you before, Soap tends to forget the gruesome details. Viper and Circe were brutal in their own right, both combining their skills to gas out anyone in the building, Artemis and Ghost picked off the ones that fled. Now it was down to you and Soap to help clear out the building of any stragglers. Soap knew he was good at clearing rooms, it's how he got his call sign after all. But much like your call sign, you were a wolf. Predatory, sneaky and brutal. If you were a dog, he was sure you would be foaming at the mouth.

Soap tries not to focus on the gory details of your current appearance, (blood flecks on your face, hands soaked with blood after you gutted a man twice your size like a fish, blood smears on your pant legs from a man choking on his own blood and grasping for any sort of life line while you sneer at him), and instead clearing out the last room. 

“Steamin’ jesus.” Soap mutters and Gaz noticeably averts his eyes. Ghost, however, sighs.

“Lieutenant.” You chirp as Viper hands you something to clean your face with.

“Do you ever not make a mess She-Wolf?” Ghost asks and you bark out a laugh as you wipe the dried blood from your face.

“Nope.” You quip as he just sighs and Soap turns his attention to Gaz who is certainly not looking like he was enjoying this any more then he was.

Your fingers dig into his pecs as you pant, your thighs, already sore from the mission, scream. “Did you like seeing me like that?” You ask between pants as you bounce on Ghost’s thick cock. You swear you can feel every detail of it, the veins rubbing against your walls, his tip constantly swiping against your g-spot and the very weight of him. “Did you like seeing me covered in blood?” You ask again as his hands dig into the meat of your hips. You stare down into his eyes that are swallowed up by his blown out pupils as he nods, a whimper crawls up his throat as your nails dig into him further.

You lean over and scrape your teeth against the junction between his shoulder and neck, you revel in the way he shudders. You bite down right as the thread snaps inside you and you gush all over his cock. Your moan around him as your pussy pulses rhythmically around him, your hips slow only for a moment. Instead you grind your hips against his as the last few shocks of your orgasm echo through your body. Ghost doesn’t move as you ravish him further in marks all over him. You love that about him, that no one will know these marks are here but you. He covers himself up a nun and only you know that he’s under you every time.

Only you know that his voice cracks and he throws his head back as he fills you. “Fuuuckkk.” He whimpers, his voice cracking and breaking. Only you know this view, of tears nearly spilling from his eyes as his chest rises and falls faster as you push him further towards overstimulation. When your hips finally stop you collapse onto his chest, he holds you close as you trace the multitude of bite marks and crescent nail marks.

“Wish we got to see each other more often.” You whisper.

“We’ll see each other when leave comes around.” Ghost- Simon, reassures you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that little tattoo you have.” You tease and pinch his vulnerable nipple. He hisses and smacks your hand away while you giggle.

[granddaughterogg]

men of Modern Warfare and how they are in relationships

Captain John Price

Self esteem: high, and damn rightly so. Heart on his sleeve. Doesn't really get the idea of being emotionally closed off. Seems like such a hassle, innit? He's got a lot to give and is not afraid to admit that he's a giver through and through. His love language is words, but also touch, and this man is insatiable. Will drown you in tenderness if you let him. You want to feel like a queen for the rest of your days together? Marry his ass.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Self esteem: Pretty high. He's impulsive as all out and a motormouth, so even if he wanted to hide his feelings from you - it's a battle already lost. He's way more sensitive that his Bro Persona might suggest and will be equal parts touched and embarrassed if you find out on your own. Showoff. Possessive to a fault. Can get quite cunty with his jokes sometimes, but will apologize for it profusely. He's so afraid to lose you. His love language is fucking your brains out. It's not like you're complaining.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He has this healthy belief in himself. Probably the most level-headed when it comes to falling in love out of the whole Task Force. Notices your affection right away and responds bringing his best game to the table - and this man can be Charming! Can get quite harsh when agitated though. Get prepared to be brought to tears if you two fight over something important. He'll notice that you're hurting, but firmly believes that it's not a reason to avoid discussion. His love language is shared hobbies.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Whoo boy. Self esteem: Unwavering when it comes to his job activities, and fairly bad considering everything else. He's one big walking emotional scar. Doesn't believe to be worthy of love and therefore remains oblivious to it for the longest. Probably has alexythymia on top of it. You have to grab him by the collar and shout I LOVE YOU, YOU BIG LUG into his face or he'll never get it.

Once you two are officially together he will give you plenty of everything that you need- except words. Won't tell you that he loves you unless you're on a hospital bed or something. His love language are everyday acts of service. That joke about a man who got told by his shrink that he should show his wife more affection, so he went and washed her car? It's been written about SImon Riley.

König

Self esteem: terrible. Frankly speaking, he should attend therapy before he even gets in a relationship. But shit happens, right?

He's touch starved, sex starved, obsessive and zealous. When he falls in love, it's as if he regressed into being a teenager again. He will idealize the SHIT out of you, you will become his sun, his sky, his everything. You say "jump!" and he happily throws himself over a precipice. Don't say "jump." If someone hurts you, the police will have a grotesquely mutilated corpse on their hands.

Love language: sex. He is very much a sub, even when he's the one holding a knife to your throat because you've asked him for it.

[surielstea]

So Soaked

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader washes Az’s wings but goes too far when teasing him.

Warnings: 18+ | Minors DNI | Smut | p in v | overstimulation | praise kink | use of pet names (baby/love) | dom!azriel | sub!reader | slight wing play | shadow play | nipple play | forced orgasm |

3.4k words

A/N: This kinda got out of hand I wasn’t expecting it to go this far but I think I like it?? I hope you like it! 😭💙

A bundle of wings and shadows practically crashed down onto my balcony. I startled from across the room and rushed towards the glass door. It was rare my mate didn't make a graceful entrance, much less crashed. Which meant he was either half asleep or hurt, I prayed to the cauldron it wasn't the latter. I quickly slid open the door and was met with a very tired Azriel.

"Hey," I say to him from the warmth of our home, the biting cold he still stood in didn't dare try to breeze in. "Hi." He utters softly, looking into my eyes with his swirling hazel ones. Something like exhaustion roamed there. It's been two days and three nights since I've seen him, to say I missed him is an understatement. "Are you hurt?" I scan his body for injuries but don't spot any blood, just dirty leather. "No." He shakes his head. A small smile tugs at my lips and I pull him inside by the collar of his uniform. "Thank the gods you're okay." I wrap my arms around him and hold him close like he might slip away again. "I was only in the autumn court," He scoffs as if danger doesn't exist there. "Too far." I shake my head and I squeeze him tighter, being careful of his wings. I didn't care that the mud on his clothes was now sticking to me, I just cared that I was in his arms again. "I'm telling Rhys that overnight missions are banned." I assert and Azriel presses a hard kiss to my forehead. I smile against the familiarity of it, sending a wave of love through the bond. He seems to like the reaction, because then he begins to peck all the way down my face to my jaw.

I giggle as he dips down onto the exposed column of my throat, his hands roaming all over my body until resting at my hips. My breath hitched as he nips at a sensitive part of my neck, then sucks on the area to soothe it. My hand goes into his hair and I tug at it, pulling him away. "You're tired." I muse, knowing he won't rest unless I told him it was okay to. "I missed you." He shakes his head and continues kissing the area. "Az," I reprimand and pull him back again. He looks at me with a forking frown. "When was the last time you slept?" I raise a brow. He avoids my gaze, looking over to the bed we shared. "It's hard for me to sleep without you nowadays." He scratched the side of his neck shyly and a saddened smile tugs at my lips. "You need to take care of yourself." I say as he reluctantly loosens his hold on my hips.

He nods and walks over to the pristine ivory sheets. I wince as I look at how muddied his leathers are. "Az." I call before he can make contact with the clean bedding. His ears perk up and he looks to me. "Why don't we take a bath first?" I step closer to him. "I'm tired love, I'll do it in the morning." He reassured and I grab his hands before he can reach for the comforter. "I'll wash your wings." I tempt and his hazel eyes practically glow golden at the idea, I know from that look that I've got him hooked. "C'mon." I rub my thumbs over the back of his palms as I pull him towards our shared bathroom.

He follows me without hesitation as I lead him into the bathing chamber. Upon entering I notice the tub already full and gleaming with a thick layer of bubbles as well as only a few candles lighting the area. I silently thank The House and walk over to the shelves filled with soaps and oils. "You don't actually have to wash them," Azriel hums as he works on tugging his leathers off. "I like to, it relaxes me." I brush him off as I pile bottles into my arms then freeze. "Unless you don't want me to?" I look over to his topless figure as he begins on the ties of his pants. "No," His head shoots up to look at me. "I want you to." He had wide eyes to stress his point and I smiled, lining all of the bottles I picked out on the edge of the steaming tub.

The bath was large, much more of a pool due to the fact that it needed to fit Azriel's wings and he had the largest pair to my knowledge. It faced a wall of windows that peered out toward the night sky and all of its beauty, stars twinkling with a familiar shimmer making me release a long and content sigh. The room smelt of citrus soaps and vanilla scented candles.

Azriel steps into the basin and submerges himself fully, groaning as the hot water spread along his wings. I smile and round him as he sits back against a wall. With a sponge I begin to clean his shoulder that was awfully knotted beneath my touch. "What are you doing?" He leans his head back to look at me from upside down. I smile. "I'm taking care of you." I brush a lock of dark hair from his face. "No, I mean why aren't you in here with me?" He raises a brow and my smile widens. "I already washed today." I argue but the way he was looking at me could have convinced me alone. "It's past midnight." His tone is nothing short of arrogance. He had little persuading to do before I was stripping off my nightgown and joining him in the steaming water.

He grins and pulls me forward by my waist, water splashing upward as he crashes his lips down onto mine. "Entire days. How did I ever survive entire days without you?" His forehead rests against mine and I giggle, pecking his lips. He doesn't seem to settle for the small kiss so he sets his mouth against mine and conveys his love in that action. My wet hands go into his tangled hair as my body presses against his. It's been far too long since having his lips on mine, I managed to forget how perfect it felt.

"Okay let me wash you or we'll never leave this tub." I mutter, placing my palm flat on his chest and pushing him away. Begrudgingly he allowed me to. "I promise you can kiss me all you want when I'm finished." I peck his cheek and he his hands come to my waist, pulling me onto his lap in a fluid motion, having me straddle his hips. I grabbed a small vial of soap made especially for his wings, then poured a hefty dollop onto my hand. "Can I touch?" My eyes flick up to meet his. I was sure of his answer but I always asked. "Of course." He leans forward and kisses the corner of my lips before resting his chin against my shoulder, flaring his wings for my reach.

I began to lather soap on the top of his right wing, wiping down any grime with a washcloth and watching as it disappeared with ease. His wings were sacred to him more so than the other Illyrians but he's never forbade me from touching them. Not once has he ever said I couldn't lay a finger on them.

When I finished washing the boniest points I discarded my cloth, knowing my own hand would be much more gentle and steady. I lathered my hands in oils and serums before hesitantly running my fingers down the membrane. He shifted with a low grunt but I continued my ministrations, secretly enjoying the way his cheeks heated and his hips adjusting as if I couldn't feel him hardening beneath me.

He allowed a full on groan to slip from his lips as I worked on a certain area of his wing, right where a center vein ran down the membrane. I was beyond gentle with my hand, but did let a soft laugh slip when I felt his member press into me. "If you keep that up I can't promise I'll be able to hold back." He grunts out and a feline smile curls my lips. "Thought you were tired?" I taunt, stroking the area again. His fingers dig into my hips and my grin widens. I lean back, ghosting my lips over his before pulling away with another giggle. He doesn't seem to like that very much because his grip tightens and he pushes me back against the wall of the tub, sending me flush into it. "You're in no place to tease," He grits out in that commanding voice of his he knew I loved so much. His lips crash against mine before abruptly pulling away. "Are you capable of remembering that or do I need to fuck it into you?" His teeth graze over my lips and my breath hitched. "I can remember." My voice is a pitiful whimper. He places one more kiss to my mouth, his tongue breaking my lips open before laying claim to any place it could reach.

My arms wrap around the back of his neck and I pull him closer, arching up against him, the peaks of my breasts pressing against his chest as I did so. His touch leaves my hips, a scarred hand settling at my waist while the other passes my ribs and roughly grips my breast. His callouses scrape my soft skin, pulling a moan from my lips in doing so.

His thumb flicks over my hardened nipple at the sound, he smiles against my lips before granting me another opened mouth kiss. "I want you." I pant out in a needy whimper and he pulls away from our heated kiss, my glazed over eyes pleading as I look up at him. "Do you now?" He hums and I nod pathetically. "Want your hand," I mumble and he wickedly grins, the hand on my hip slowly inching down, lower and lower and lower.

"You'll be good?" He arches a brow. "Mhm." I nod again. With my response two of his large fingers slide through my folds. I sigh in disbelief at how good it felt, so much better than my own hand and he's barely touched me. His thumb brushed over my clit and I clench around nothing. "Az," I whimper and he circles my entrance with one of his fingers, the sensation making me throw my head back. "Look at me." He demands. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you're moaning my name." He purrs and my brows crease, I muster up the confidence to lock my gaze with his, hazel eyes glowing golden with lust as he slowly enters a long, thick, finger.

I bite into my lower lip at the foreign stretch, mouth watering as he circled over my clit again. "You okay baby?" He asks and I nod, desperate for more. He gets the hint and with the next thrust of his finger he adds another. My breath hitched as I feel the way the texture of his scars rubs against my walls, adding so much more pleasure. "Fuck, Azriel." I cry out and he quickens his pace, finger-fucking me faster and harder.

"Your scars." I moan out and his hand freezes, then slowly retracts. "Sorry." He mutters with solemn eyes. "No!" I grab his wrist and force his fingers back into my cunt, a small whimper releasing from my lips as I do so. "Feels so fucking good." I reassure. "Only your hands makes me feel like this." I mumble out to the best of my abilities. "I love it." A smirk curves my lips and he regains confidence, pumping in and out of my pussy. His thumb returns to my clit as shadows wrap around my torso, cold tendrils traveling up until they're on my breasts and tightly swirling over my nipples. I gasp at the unfamiliar feeling, pinching and suctioning on the hardened peaks making me cry out.

"Az, s'too much I'm gonna—" I begin, grinding my hips onto his hand as he rubs harsh and tight circles on my clit. "Gonna cum." I murmur out and a feline smile graces his expression. "Go ahead baby." He allows and that's all I need to hear before my first orgasm of the night tears through me and my legs shake around his hand with the action. "So worked up from only my fingers, how will you ever take my cock?" He arches a brow as I slowly come down from my high, pussy fluttering around his hand.

"I can," I whine as he takes out his fingers and I'm left to my own devices. "I promise Az, I can." My whimper is below pitiful and pure passion glints in his eyes. "Be a good girl and turn around for me then." He demands with that powerful voice. I clench my thighs together but does as he says, propping my elbows on the edge of the basin as his hands return back to my hips.

He places a kiss at the top of my spine and I arch as an automated response, grinding down onto nothing in need of friction. I feel his lips curve into a smile and he guides my hips up. I release a soft sigh as his other hand goes into my hair and he pushes me flat against the cold counter made for holding soaps and candles.

He leans down, his chest flush against my back and he places a gentle kiss to my shoulder blade. The head of his cock slides through my folds with an embarrassing ease. "That's not just water is it love?" He hums and I shake my head no. I let out a soft moan as his tip rubs against my clit with a stimulating pressure. "I want you," I whine, my nails digging into the edge of the basin. "Oh yeah? How do you want me?" He prompts and I flush at all the thoughts that come to mind.

"I want you inside." I whine. "Inside what? Say the words and I'll give you what you want." His large hands massage my waist. "I want your cock inside my pussy. Please." I manage to say. He grins wildly at the corruption, the way I sounded so embarrassed. "What a dirty mouth you have baby, maybe later I'll teach you how to use it hm?" His hands roam down to the curve of my ass. I was going to reply but then he was groping the plush skin, kneading it in his large hands and I lose all train of thought.

One of his hands moves away from my ass, I don't realize why until his tip presses against my entrance and I know he's aligning himself. "You want this?" He asks and I nod. "Please Az." I cry. He rises on his knees, his cock being pushed into me halfway at the action. I moan at the sudden stretch, eyebrows twitching together as I marvel at the width of him. My breathing becomes labored as he slowly begins moving, rocking his hips back and forth, going deeper and deeper with every thrust.

I mewl out as he comes into contact with that spongy bundle of nerves and he wasn't even all the way inside. Tears brim my eyes as I feel my walls struggle to stretch around him. Like I was some kind of mold he seemed to slot so perfectly inside of. "Gods you're so tight, fuck, that's my good girl." He groans out and I release a string of moans. "Faster— Az, I want it harder." I beg. He seems to obey my plead because the next time he retracts he pushes into me with more power, his base pressing against mine and he finally has all of his member sheathed inside of me.

I cry out his name as he begins fucking into me, the smell of his arousal flooding my senses as my body aches in a needy pleasure. I can feel every inch of him, the way he throbs inside of me. I analyze every touch, remember exactly how this feels. He's been gone for too long, I can't believe I've forgotten for he feels tucked inside of me.

"Are you close already baby?" He could feel me fluttering around his member, knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer. "Mhm," I manage to sound, all coherent thoughts flying out the window as his hand on my hip snaked down and two of his scarred fingers pressed directly onto my clit. I moaned his name like he was some sort of god that needed worshipping because fuck did he feel like one.

"Az, please," I whisper in a soft tone but he doesn't cease, he doesn't care if I can't handle it, he doesn't care if it's too much. "I— I'm gonna," I breath out, clenching around him like my life depends on it. The sounds of water splashing and his balls smacking against my folds have me being pushed so much closer to the edge. "I know baby, I know." He weaves his fingers into my hair and he tugs it, at the pain from my scalp my orgasm crashes into me and I'm mewling for him, my walls clenching tighter around him as euphoria blooms in my abdomen.

But even after my high comes down the way he pounds into me doesn't slow, doesn't relent. He fists my hair then pulls me straight up so my back was pressed into his chest. He continues pumping himself into my cunt, groaning at this new angle now that I was squeezing him so much tighter. "You sound so pretty when you're coming on my cock." He praises, placing a kiss on the junction between my shoulder and neck.

Overstimulation floods my body as his hips slam against mine. One of his hands wraps around my waist, keeping me still and stopping me from collapsing, his other hand coming to my front as well but only to grope and massage my breast. I moan at the feeling, my head being thrown back as he flicks over the hardened bud with his thumb, callouses scraping over the sensitive nipple.

"Fuck— uh, Az please I can't!" I cry, tears spilling from my eyes and down onto my cheeks. "Yes you can, be a good girl and take it." His teeth graze over my shoulder where hickeys now lay. He twitches inside of me and I know he's close, can feel the way he pulses in need of release. His hand slowly slips down my torso, past my navel and straight to where I needed him most. He begins rubbing tight circles around my most sensitive area, pulling a string of moans from my lips.

I could feel another orgasm approaching, my third one tonight and he hasn't even found his own once. "Az," I gasp out, incapable of forming words other than his name. Drool slowly drips from the corner of my mouth. "Azriel." I breathe, my eyes tightening shut as he throbs inside of me yet again. His thrusts grow sloppy but the power of them doesn't let up. He continues pushing himself deeper and deeper, ramming into the bundle of nerves that was about to make me release again.

I clench around him as tight as I can, making it harder for him to even pull out but he still manages. "Come on my cock," He commands. "Az, I—" Words are foreign as he pinches my clit and I do exactly as he says, releasing all over his member with my walls suctioning around him. With another forceful thrust his seed is spurting out of him and painting me white. I mewl at the feeling of his warm cum splattering into me, his cock stuffing it into me as he thrusts a few more times, coming down from that high.

With a grunt he pulls himself out from me and his seed pours down my thighs, there's so much of it. Gods he was still fucking releasing. I collapse down onto the counter of the tub and allow myself to sink into the water. "You did so good." He leans down and places a kiss to my shoulder blade. "Let's get you cleaned up."

[ghouljams]

Mmmm, jealous 1870s!cowboy!Soap starting a barfight at the saloon bc a guy was being too pushy with his girl 🤭

You hear the glass break before you actually see Johnny's fist crash into the interloper's jaw. You blink at the booze dripping off the strangers face as he struggles to keep his bearings. There's a dark flash in your regular's eyes, one you can't say you'd ever want to see again. You shrink back against your bar when Johnny looks at you. His jaw twitches with how tight he's got it clenched.

"I'll pay for the glass." He rolls up his sleeves and turns his attention back to the man who's rapidly realizing he's just been struck. "Go fetch the doctor, hen, gonna need 'er," He tells you, nodding towards the door. You nod quickly, just quick enough to assure him before he's grabbing the man by the collar to punch again. The way his fist pulls back is hypnotic; the flex of his back and the tightening of his bicep make you hesitate to leave. The spray of blood when he handily breaks the strangers nose sends you out the door.

The conversation you'd had with the stranger rings through your head as cross the street to grab the town doctor.

"It's my bar," You'd corrected when he'd complimented "your husband's" saloon.

"No man lookin' after you, eh?" He'd smirked over his glass. Your eyes had flicked to Johnny asleep against the bar, his glass untouched next to his folded arms. You'd given him a double, sure he'd worked a long day and promised to bring him a meal as quick as you could. He'd hardly waited for the words to leave your mouth before waving you off to sleep. "Bet you like that," The stranger had said, dragging your attention back to him, "bet a woman like you takes every man she can get her hands on."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You'd scowled.

"It means, whatever your rate is I'll pay it," He'd finished his drink, and tacked on for good measure, "haven't had good pussy in months." Before the glass had broken and Johnny was flying at him.

Duck meets you outside her office as a regular goes flying through the saloon doors behind you. She's already got her bag, hustling past you before you can even give her the situation. You give a quick heel turn to follow her, stepping over the Johnson boy with a half apologetic shrug when he groans and rolls onto his side. Duck holds the door open for you, her mouth in a hard line as you both watch blood drip off Johnny's knuckles.

His chest heaves with breaths as he stands over the unconscious body of the man who'd insulted you. Although you wouldn't recognize the stranger now, you'd guess he's missing a few teeth, and his cheeks puff around a broken jaw. One of his compatriots is strewn over a nearby table with a broken arm slung at an odd angle behind his back. You grimace at the turned over chairs and spilled drinks.

Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the sweat with the blood on his hand. Duck shakes her head and pushes past him to treat his unconscious victims.

"Fuck did you do to 'im?" The doctor asks, crouching and pulling different gauze and instruments out of her bag.

"Nothin' he didn't deserve," Johnny reasons, rolling his shoulders back with a soft pop and a low groan. Something low in the pit of your stomach clenches tight and warm when he looks over his shoulder at you. You squeeze your hands into fists and push through the chaos to get something high proof for the doctor to clean up with.

"There's a bed upstairs," You tell the room, pouring a tall glass of something clear and strong enough to strip paint, "if you want to finish your nap before the sheriff shows up."

You set the glass on the bar and let yourself meet Soap's eye. He's got a cut bleeding on his brow and a hell of a shiner starting to purple on his cheek, but he smiles at you brilliantly. You look away to find a broom and starting cleaning up his mess. You know he'll find his way to your rooms, and you'll have to pull him out of your bed despite there being plenty of open guest rooms. You know too that later you'll push your face against the pillow and try to find the lingering scent of his soap.

Folks in town know better than to get pushy with you when your dog is around, but strangers always take the gamble.

[meowpupp]

so i read your last post with hybrid!reader and owners!simon and price.

what about hybrid!soap being forced to watch them go at it as a punishment?? poor baby maybe touched reader without price’s permission bc he missed her so much after their last play date :(( so simon and price have to teach him a lesson about touching what isn’t his

-bear 🩷🐻

I LOVE YOUR BRAIN BEAR‼️‼️

tw:// punishment, hybrid smut, intense bdsm dom/sub dynamics, brief overstim, dycraphilia,

pup!johnny who can't get enough of your cunt. he craves the feeling of your wet, gummy walls hugging his cock. how the sticky mess of your slick and his cum form a frothy, white ring around the base of his cock.

he's constantly bottoming for owner!simon. always rendered helpless against the mattress as he takes each thick, veiny inch of his owner. his poor cock twitching against the bedsheets with each thrust, tip red and leaky as he whimpers.

so when he finally gets the chance to bury himself in something warm and wet, it's irresistible. johnny eagerly waits the whole week for your next playdate, thick cock already hardening in his boxers as he thinks about your little cunt.

but unfortunately for him, Simon's feeling mean. whether it's just so him and price can have some entertainment, or as some sort of punishment, simon makes it very clear that johnny is not to fuck you. hes not even allowed to grope your soft thighs, or grind against your plush ass.

and it's pure torture! simon doesn't give johnny a moment alone with you, keeping you both in sight. however, its not just simon. price is in on it too, dressing you in one of his oversized shirts, your tail making the fabric ride up just enough to see your pretty lace panties.

johnny's in pure hell. watching how the other two men in the room get free reign, cupping your cunt through your panties, smacking your ass. they taunt and tease the poor boy, showing him how your slick makes your panties cling to your folds, lace translucent as you get wetter and wetter.

simon spreads his fingers to show off just how slick youve got, only inches away from johnnys face, "look at that, poor girls dripping. such a shame its going to waste." all before he smears the sticky mess over johnny's face.

price even sits you on his lap, eyes locked on johnny's as he slowly pulls your shirt off. his forearm pins you against him, keeping you vulnerable and exposed.

simon just smirks, watching the way johnny's eyes cling to your cunt. the mutt is practically drooling, cock rock hard in his boxers. it only makes it easier to torture the poor pup.

"tell him pretty girl, tell johnny how much you need his cock. how much you miss him deep in here." price cups your cunt again, squeezing softly as he speaks

it only takes one little slip up, and then johnny finally snaps. he's mean with you, shoving your face into the carpet and pulling aside your panties. he doesn't even prep your little cunt, just forcing every inch of his thick, girthy length inside.

his fingers stuff your mouth, his whole body shivering as he burns with pure pleasure. he missed this, missed you. his favourite girl, choking on his fingers as he ruins your pretty cunt.

its a short-lived victory, however. it seems just as fast as he had pushed into you, he's pulled away.

simon drags him by his collar, ripping the mutt away from you, throwing him to the ground. johnnys cock throbs and aches, tip angry and red, leaking pre-cum that was meant to be buried in you.

it only took minutes until hes gagged, bound, denied. a ball gag muffles each whine, his arms bound behind him as he's tied to a chair, poor dick drooling as a cockring sits flush to the base.

all he can do is whine and twitch, listen to the muffled moans and wet gags you make. his eyes train to your lips stretched wide around prices cock. your nose brushes the base, throat bulging with each thrust. you drool and choke, crying as your owner uses you.

simon grips your hips tightly, keeping you still. he spreads your thighs wide, ensuring that there's enough space for his big, bulky body to fit between them.

he's just as mean, if not more, than price. fucking into your cunt, forcing every thick, long, inch inside. his cock feels as if it's pressing against your sternum, rearranging your guts with each movement.

he does everything he knows johnny's wishes he could do. licking a stripe up your sternum, sucking on your tits, tugging your nipples with his teeth. simons big hands keep you in place as he mauls the soft flesh, marking you.

johnny can see the way your thighs spasm, squirming as you get closer and closer. he's the one who's supposed to be fucking your gummy walls, he's the one meant to be marking your pretty tits, he's the one who's supposed to cum deep, deep inside you.

his cock throbs and twitches, almost feeling as if its about to explode. his thighs shake, little tears brewing in his eyes as he watches. the cool air is unforgiving, only making him feel all the more sensitive and exposed. simon and price barely look at him, only checking now and then to make sure he's watching.

the two laugh, mocking the poor pup, "aw, look sweetheart," price pulls his cock from your throat, sticky strings of spit connecting the tip to your lips, "poor johnny, hm? doesn't he look pathetic? whining and whimpering for a cunt that isn't his."

it only goes on and on. its only four rounds later that they finally decide to grant johnny mercy. your body is twitchy and oversensitive. your tummy bloated from cum, thick, white, hot loads slowly leaking from your swollen cunt.

it's only then, when your body feels burning hot and achy, that they let johnny have you. simon even helps, lining up johnny's tip with your twitchy hole, guiding you as you sink down.

it's instant, a knee-jerk reaction. a loud whine rips from your throat, eyes glassy as tears spill down your face. it's too much. your poor cunt hurts. youre stuffed to your limits, clit swollen and throbbing.

johnny's almost brain-dead, desperately fucking up into you. your gummy walls are hot, a mix of simon and prices cum forced out with each thrust. the way you squirm and clench, clawing at his chest only makes him rutt into you harder. he doesnt even register how you cry, telling your owners that you dont want it, its too much, that it hurts.

simon just sighs, pulling you up and off, ignoring the way johnny almost sobs. the man hands you off to your owner, then turns his attention to his own pup.

he soaks up the sight. johnny's face streaked in tears, chest panting and body covered in sweat. simon reaches out to brush a tear away, kissing the hybrids forehead.

"too bad johnny. seems like she doesn't wanna play any more." he tuts, gripping johnny's jaw to force him to meet his eyes, "maybe if you apologise to me and price well enough, we'll let you fuck her thighs. her throat if you cry hard enough."

[dante-mightdie]

okay but blue collar!Simon introducing his sweet babe to the lads? *screams my head off*

-💙🐨

omg i’m obsessed <33

it happens entirely by accident. you and him are on a date, pressed up against each other in the local pub.

simon pulls away from you to go for a smoke and as he’s ruffling throwing his pockets he hears a loud, scottish accent boom throughout the room

“I guess they’ll let anyone in ‘ere!”

simon would close his eyes and sigh before turning around to see his boss and colleagues. most likely all just finished a day on site

soap walks up and wraps simon in a hug, clapping him on the back a few times

“this the missus we keep ‘earing about?��� a deep voice from an older bearded man adds to the conversation

simon flushes and turns away from the lads, begrudgingly wrapping an arm around you when you stand to join him

you smile at the men sweetly and offer them a wave as simon introduces you to them

it’s not that simon is embarrassed by you. he’s embarrassed by them. the idiots he works with

few of the lads eye you up and down, “dinnae know your bird was this pretty.” the scottish one pipes up again

“too pretty for this bellend that’s for sure.” the young one, introduced to you as gaz chimed in

simon’s arm hugs you to his side tightly, handing resting on your tummy as a sign of possession

“least he’s got a bird to go home to after work.” simon’s boss, John, pipes up as he brings another round to the table.

“you lot fucking off any time soon?” simon grumbles, taking a sip from his pint, “trynna spend time with my girl.”

you’re giggling and leaning into simon the whole time, nudging him playfully every time he says you two should just go home

[stuckinthesun]

The Jacket // R.G. x Fem!Reader

Summary

Rick catches you pleasuring yourself while wearing a familiar article of clothing

Warnings

nsfw, dark themes, kinda murder couple vibes, fem masterbation, voyerism, Dom!Rick, mean Rick, teasing, pet names, fingering, p in v, overstim, pussy slapping

Word Count

2.8k

You don’t even remember what you came into his room for. The moment your eyes landed on the familiar brown jacket, your mind became fuzzy and all other thoughts were forgotten.

That jacket.

The one you’ve seen Rick brutally kill dozens of people in, you could even still see blood permanently stained in the wool collar of it. And when you walked into the man’s room to find it just lying on his bed, heat instantly pooled between your legs.

You’ve been in love with the leader of your group since the moment you met him, and that love only grew the more he protected your group from the dangers of the world.

The two of you weren’t together though. There was tension, to long looks and lingering touches, but never anything more. Life in the apocalypse was so brutal and fast paced that it never left time for anything like that, so you were left to pine.

But now here you stood, in his room, staring at his jacket, the jacket you’ve fantasized about him fucking you in countless of times.

You walked further into Ricks room, like you were in a trance, until you were standing at the foot of his bed, and running your fingers along the rough material of the brown jacket.

It wasn’t just the fact that Rick looked damn good in it, that was just a bonus. No it was the fact that, the moment he got this jacket, something shifted.

You remember being reunited with him after the prison fell, under the dirt and blood he was wearing this coat and you remember thinking, he’s different.

You picked up the jacket, it being heavier than you expected, and buried your nose into the wool collar. It was surprisingly soft against your skin as you inhaled, smelling the old detergent everyone used, soap and something that was distinctly Rick.

It was musky and heady and filling you with warmth, making a small whimper leave your lips. Your fingers gripped the material harder, bunching it in your fists and almost hugging the jacket like a pillow.

You should feel embarrassed, you should stop and walk away before someone undoubtably catches you, but you can’t stop. It feels too good when you squeeze your thighs together, thinking about the way Rick looked killing Gareth, wearing this exact jacket.

“Fuck-“ You moan, finally sparring a glance at the bedroom door. Empty, not a soul in sight.

Am I really gonna do this?

“Besides… I already made you a promise.”

Fuck.

In a split second decision, you rush over and close the door, before going back toward his bed. The jacket feels almost heavenly as you slip it on, the smell of Rick enveloping you and making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You’re on your back instantly, fingers undoing the button and zipper of your jeans. You quickly slip your hand under the waistband of your underwear and pants, fingers sliding between your folds and feeling just how wet you already are.

Moaning you turn your head to the side and bury your nose into the wool collar of Ricks jacket again. His heady scent making your eyes roll back and your hips buck against your hand.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears, the rush of adrenaline only turning you on more and you had to bite the material to stifle your moans. Your fingers rubbed small, quick circles on your clit, your movement’s limited due to your jeans blocking you.

It wasn’t enough, you needed more, you needed him.

A frustrated whine left your lips.

“Maybe it would feel better if you took your pants off.” A deep, familiar voice said, startling you.

You paled with embarrassment when you sat up to see Rick leaning in the doorway. His arms were crossed, and he wore a smirk as he looked at you with amusement.

“R-rick I–“

“Don’t mind me, keep going sweetheart.” Rick cut you off, stepping away from the doorframe and closing the bedroom door.

He turned around and resumed his position, this time against the wooden surface. His piercing blue eyes burned holes into you, making you squirm, “What?”

“Keep. Going.” Rick said, tone dropping and his face changing from amused to something darker.

The heat in your abdomen returns in full force and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together. You watch the smirk return to Ricks lips as he watches, and with an embarrassed flush you lay back down.

You resume the position you were in before, on your back with your hand shoved down your pants rubbing your clit. This time though, when you turned your head to bury your nose into the jacket, you turned to face Rick.

Soon your embarrassment was forgotten as you let out a moan, your fingers circling your clit just right. You stared directly at the man of your desires, watching for a reaction.

Wanting to see how Rick would react to you touching yourself on his bed, while wearing his jacket.

All you got was Rick pulling his lips back against his teeth, making a ‘tsk’ sound, as he got off the door and began walking over toward you, “You’re so desperate for it you can’t even properly undress yourself?”

His boots rang like thunder against the hardwood floor, and if you were of clear mind you would’ve found it strange you didn’t hear it earlier. Instead the sound just made your hips buck, and you watched as he stopped in front of you.

You whined as Ricks hands touched your knees and slid down your thighs to rest at your hips. He began pulling your jeans and underwear off, and you stopped rubbing your clit, eagerly lifting your hips up to help him.

Suddenly Rick stopped though, and when you looked at his face confused, you saw he was glaring at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. This only made his glare deepen and he tilted his head as he said, “Use your words.”

“N-no, you didn’t.” You choked out, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

“Then keep. Going.” Rick hissed, and you nodded frantically as you began rubbing yourself again.

Seeming satisfied, Rick started removing your pants and underwear again, exposing your aching core and your fingers playing with your clit.

Rick stared at you like he was in a trance, and it made your embarrassment come back while adding to your arousal. You flushed at his stare and moaned as his hands ran up and down the inside of your bare thighs, pushing your legs further apart.

You could feel your release getting closer and you rolled your hips as you whined, “Rick please.”

“Please what?” He asked, his voice sounding hoarse and his eyes never leaving your movements.

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” He answered plainly, hands squeezing your thighs as if to prove his point.

His grip only pushed you closer to the edge and you let out a frustrated groan, “But I’m gonna c-cum if I keep-“

“Then cum.” Rick said, finally looking into your eyes, “Isn’t that what you wanted? To make yourself cum while wearing my coat, laying on my bed?”

You moaned, arching your back and clenching around nothing, and his eyes flicked back to your center, “Now I just get to watch.”

That was it, that was all it took. You came with a loud shout, hips bucking against your hand and head turning into the wool collar.

Ricks hands were still rubbing along your thighs as he talked you through it, “That’s it, good girl. Let me see just how good you feel.”

You had barely finished riding out the high of your orgasm before you felt two fingers push inside of you, making you gasp, “You’re drenched from just rubbing your clit?”

“Rick wait!” You cried out, trying to move away from him. His fingers inside of you were too much, the pleasure turning painful. His free hand moved to your abdomen, holding you in place as his fingers curled inside of you.

“A minute ago you were begging me to touch you and now you want me to wait?” Rick teased you, that mean smirk back on his face.

A sob escaped your lips and you closed your eyes as tears filled them, “T-too much!”

“You can take it, sweetheart.” Rick leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Tell you what, doll. I’ll stop teasing you and just fuck you, if you tell me what it is you like about that jacket so much, Mhmm? Sound good?”

As if to seal the deal, Rick began thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace. You cried out, arching into him unintentionally. Your hands came up to weakly push at him, trying to get him to stop, but it was useless.

“Come on baby, it has to be something.” Rick cooed, pulling away from your ear to watch your face closely, “I mean, you came in here and put it on to touch yourself. Obviously you like it a lot.”

“I-it’s y-yours!” You managed to get out, hands no longer pushing him away but holding on for dear life.

You opened your eyes saw Ricks pupils dilate but he just shook his head, “No. That might be part of it, but that’s not the whole thing. Come on, why do you like it so much? I mean, it still has blood stains.”

The loud moan that escaped your lips startled both of you. Ricks fingers stopped and your eyes widened in panic.

Shit! He’s going to think I’m insane and kick me out and-

The smirk Rick had before was replaced with something almost manic, “So that’s it.”

His fingers were moving inside of you again, curling instantly to find your sweet spot and making you see stars. The hand on your pelvis began sliding up, pushing your shirt along with it, revealing more of your skin as he stared at you in wonder.

“That’s what it is, you like that I’ve killed so many people and walkers while wearing it, huh darling?” Rick asked, and leaned closer to you. His words, his fingers and his closeness were all pulling you back to the edge. The pain from overstimulation completely gone, and now you were rocking against his hand between your legs.

“So what is it exactly that gets you this wet, huh baby? Is it that I’ve killed people? That I’m capable of killing people? Or that I’m willing to protect the people I care about at any cost?”

You looked at him with teary eyes and choked out, “T-that you’d be willing to k-kill for m-me!”

Ricks face softens just the slightest bit, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve already killed for you.”

Your orgasm ripped through you suddenly, making your hips come off the bed and your juices spray everywhere. You didn’t even realize you were squirting, your senses were zeroed in on how Rick felt finger fucking you as you came down from your high.

Soon it became too much again and you started pushing at him, and this time Rick actually took pity on you. He slipped his fingers from your sopping cunt and put them in his mouth. You heard him moan around the digits as he licked them clean and you blushed when you finally realized what a mess you made.

The front of Ricks shirt was soaked, along with the bed and the jacket underneath you. You blushed deeper at the thought and covered your face with your hands as you huffed out tiredly, “I’m sorry for- Ah!”

You were cut off by a rough slap to your pussy, sending a shockwave through your body and making you flinch violently. You uncovered your face and looked at him, completely taken aback.

Rick just glared at you as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “Finish that sentence and I won’t fuck you.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly clamp your mouth shut. He smirks, shrugging his shirt off, “Good girl, now undress for me.”

Sitting up, you only hesitated a little before letting the jacket slip from your shoulders and pool around your waist. As you pull your shirt over your head, you hear the buckle of Ricks holster. Throwing your shirt to the floor you watch as he sets the gun on the bed next to you.

The idea of fucking with it on the bed makes you squirm in excitement.

The sound of a belt buckle draws you back to the man standing above you, and you look up to see him smirking at you, “You’re one kinky little slut aren’t you?”

You blush a look away from him, instead focusing on unhooking your bra. When you finally got the damn thing unclasped and you let it fall from your chest, you heard Rick make a noise.

Looking up you saw that he was staring at you again. This time at your now exposed chest, and he reached one hand out to squeeze one of your breasts, while the other pulled his belt from the loops of his pants.

You sighed at the feeling of his palm pressing against your nipple, “Please hurry Rick, need you.”

“So impatient for someone who’s cum twice,” Rick teased, letting go of you to pull himself out of his now unzipped jeans.

Then he did something that both shocked and delighted you.

Rick reached down and slid his jacket from around your waist, before bringing it up and slipping his arms into the sleeves.

You shivered at the sight of him, in that jacket, and you can’t help the little whimper that escapes you. Then you realize the positions you’re in, him fully clothed except for his cock and balls, and you completely naked and already soaked in your own juices.

“Fuck,” You moan, and you just can’t help yourself anymore. Reaching up, you grab the collar of the jacket you love so much, and pull him in for a kiss.

Rick instantly kisses you back, one of his hands coming up to hold the back of your head as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You hum into him, and allow him to push you on your back.

You feel the drag of his cock between your folds, gathering your slick up, and you moan breaking the kiss. Ricks teeth sink into your bottom lip as you feel the head of his cock push against your entrance.

Letting your lip go he groans, “You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, right?”

“Yes! Yes please let me take your cock please!” You cry out, desperately trying not to roll your hips to try and push him inside of you.

“Good,” Is all the warning you get before Rick pushes fully inside of you in one thrust. You cry out and instantly wrap your arms and legs around him to ground yourself.

You didn’t really register how big he was a moment ago, but now that he’s inside of you, you can feel every inch of him splitting you open.

“R-Rick!” You sob, shaking in his arms, and you feel his beard tickle your skin as he kisses along your neck.

“Take it sweetheart, I know you can.” He growls against your skin, biting down in the crevice between your neck and jaw.

You barely got a moment to adjust before Rick started moving. His thrusts were quick and hard, making your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curls. One of his hands gripped your thigh so tight you were sure you would have finger shaped bruises, while the other stayed planted next to your head.

“Fuck,” It was Rick who moaned, and the sound made your eyes roll to the back of your head, “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“O-oh god,” You whine, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging.

“Shit baby,” Rick groans, hips stuttering slightly. “This what you wanted, Huh? Me fucking you while wearing this jacket you like so much?”

“Yes! Yes fuck!” You yell, rocking your hips to meet his, “I’m so close Rick please!”

“Come on baby,” Rick grunts, squeezing a hand between the two of you to rub at your sensitive clit, “Cum for me, cum on my cock.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you do exactly that. You cum so hard it almost hurts, nails digging into Ricks skin so hard you’re probably drawing blood.

The feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice pulls Rick right over the edge with you. He spills inside of you with a grunt, filling you with his hot seed.

You lay there limp when you come down from your high, limbs slipping from around Rick as he carelessly pulls out of you and fall to lay down at your side.

You’re both breathing heavily, you’re throat feels raw from how much you screamed and the cum cooling between your legs feels gross.

You’ve never felt better.

With a happy sigh you turn your head to the side to see Rick already looking at you. There’s a smile on his face and his eyes hold that same amusement from earlier.

“So… my jacket, huh?”

You playfully push his face away.

…idek

[prettybean]

TOXIC BEHAVIOR (COD +18)

* just for fun, don’t take it too seriously 🍌

I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS KIND OF RELATIONSHIP, if you find yourself in these situations, ask for help

If these topics make you uncomfortable, please avoid reading further.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Ghost

He just can't accept the fact that you ended things with him. It's been three months since the breakup, but Simon has completely lost it, especially when he found out that you're engaged again.

He keeps calling you persistently, and out of habit, you always answer. You hear him say the same old phrases: "I'm better than him" or "Come back to me, you know you can't be happy without me."

Despite the breakup, you've agreed to have sex with him several times. The way he pleases you makes your heart race faster and faster. Deep down, you know it's not fair to your new boyfriend, but when Simon touches you, you forget about everything else.

After years of being together, he knows your body inside out. He knows exactly how to make you moan, and he's not afraid to remind you of that. "I bet you don't scream like that with him." And as he says it, he fucks you like only he can.

"Do I have to kill him to win you back? You know I would." And as he says those words, he takes you to new heights of pleasure.

Soap

He has an unhealthy fixation on exerting control over you. John wants to demonstrate to others just how much you are under his command and how obediently you follow his every instruction.

"I've got something special for you," he informed you, as he fasten a collar around your neck, tightening it to the point where it became difficult to breathe. He didn't care about your discomfort; the tighter the collar, the more possession he felt over you.

"Do you like it, sweetie?" he asked, gazing at his name engraved on the collar, emphasizing how much he had invested in you. "If you ever remove it, it would truly break my heart."

You had no choice but to comply; it was the only option available to you. You kept the collar on, and he took advantage of it more and more, forcing you to go out in public with fewer and fewer clothes, showcasing you as his prized possession.

"No panties today, baby," he forcefully rip them off, leaving you to walk around without them. You belonged solely to him, and you had to face the consequences by fulfilling his every desire.

Price

His protectiveness quickly transformed into possessiveness. He never bothers to inquire about your dating life, your activities, or your whereabouts. Your outings are solely determined by his decisions.

If he doesn't suit your preferences, he might even tie you up to acknowledge his authority.

"Darling, it's all about your safety. I don't want anyone to harm you."

He accompanies you everywhere, and you must remain by his side. When you walk, he clings possessively to your arm. "Stay close to me, sweetheart."

If you attempt to engage in conversation with someone else, he tightens his grip on your waist, glaring at you. "What did I tell you?" he growls before promptly escorting you home.

Nevertheless, you adore his way of expressing love. You have always obeyed his commands because, after all, he is your boyfriend.

Gaz

You never truly loved him and he couldn't accept that fact. For months, he persistently tried to flirt with you, but you rejected him in every possible way. However, he refused to give up.

You couldn't help but notice his strange attempts to manipulate you. Strangely enough, you found yourself enjoying the attention and the way he tried to make you fall for him.

Every day, he would tell you, "You're the reason I'm so miserable, don't you see? It's all because of you." With a disappointed expression, he would repeat this over and over, gazing into your eyes.

He started writing you letters, each one becoming more explicit, expressing how he would pleasure you if only you would accept his love. He even went as far as to say he would eliminate any competition just to have you.

Slowly, you found yourself giving in to the temptation and his relentless manipulations. In the end, he succeeded in making you fall in love with him.

Graves

He's consumed by jealousy, and he doesn't even try to hide it. He repeatedly tells you how jealous he is and how wrong you are in your relationship. "If you could just stop thinking about other people, then maybe we wouldn't fight so much."

He wants to have complete control over your every move, to the point where he even took your phone to read all your messages, from the very first to the very last. If he finds anything he doesn't like, he doesn't hesitate to delete the contact of the person involved. "I'm sick of you and your damn friends."

You want to tell him that he's a psychopath and that he needs to respect your privacy, but you simply can't. He keeps blaming you, saying, "It's because of you that I'm like this."

There have been multiple instances where he's punched walls out of anger or broken your phone to cut off your contact with others.

But in the end, he always comes back to you with open arms, apologizing. And every time, you forgive him.

König

He's been tailing you nonstop. It's been ages since you two called it quits, yet every time you step out, you can't shake off the feeling of being watched.

He's always there, meticulously tracking your every move, whether you're alone or with your friends.

König watches you from a distance, careful not to get too close and blow his cover. He even went as far as snapping some pictures of you, which he proudly displayed on his wall, among others.

He used to keep you company during those long nights, lurking in your backyard, peering through your window just to catch you changing or totally naked.

You were well aware of it, and to make things easier for him, you purposely left the curtains open. König was undeniably creepy, but deep down, you still harbored a hint of affection for him.

Keegan

He’s in love with you. Keegan expresses his love through the most unexpected gestures, but only when you're alone together. When there are other people around, he transforms into the perfect gentleman - kind and flawless. Your friends have even praised you for choosing such a great guy.

But when you return home, everything changes. It's happened multiple times that he's embraced you from behind, gently caressing your hips and leaving a trail of wet kisses along your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more space, only to feel something cold against your skin.

"The only way I can make you do what I want is by holding a knife to your throat?" he says, his words making you flinch. Every time he threatens you like this, it feels as if it's the first time.

"I know you enjoy provoking me, otherwise you wouldn't do it so often," he claims. You haven't done anything wrong, he just likes making you believe that. He enjoys seeing the fear in your eyes as he grabs your wrists and forces you to your knees.

You beg him to continue, knowing that he doesn't appreciate it when you oppose him. You have no reason to resist. He controls you, able to do whatever he pleases with you, especially when he lets the knife glide across your body.

"Tell me you'd die for me”.

[captainfern]

Heart-Shaped Box

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price gets injured during a mission. you help him feel better lol. • rating - 18+ [mdni] • wordcount - 3.7k • warnings - fem!reader, a bit of sub!price, unprotected piv, praise kink [price is called a good boy], oral [m!receiving], orgasm denial? idk probably, riding, mentions of threesome, strong language, a bit of violence/blood

that gif makes me fucking feral

i want him and his silly hat

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The taskforce had been separated, having each pursued completely different targets. Comms were down and that left you hauntingly alone.

You had hunted down your target. Piece of cake. But now, leaving his body submerged in a flooded ditch, you walked aimlessly though the long grass of a sprawling paddock.

Every few minutes, you tapped at the communication collar around your throat. You called to your comrades— Ghost, Soap, Gaz— but no one responded. Static filled your ears.

With an angry huff, you switched the device on and off again, before giving up entirely. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and you did not want to be stranded alone in unknown countryside.

Up ahead, a woodland. It was shadowed, tall trees brushing the dusky blue sky. There were no houses in sight, and you were beginning to grow tired.

When you reached the tree line of the woodland, your comms erupted in a burst of static that made you flinch. A patchy voice filtered into your ear, and you clawed desperately at the buttons on your collar in a poor attempt to improve the quality.

“Sergeant? You copy?”

It was Price. Well thank fuck for that.

You felt like you wanted to sob, throat stinging as the deep vibrato of his voice soothed something within you.

“Copy,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”

“At one of the safe houses. Are the boys with you?”

“No, no, it’s just me.”

You heard Price curse, then: “So you’re alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, tell me where you are. Describe your surroundings for me.”

You did as you were told. The sun was setting in front of you. There was a darkening woods in front of you too, with rolling green paddocks stretching to your left and right. Behind you was a desolate dirt track, complete with a flooded ditch, and a dead insurgent.

“Head towards the sun, straight through the woods,” Price instructed. “Cross the stream and keep walking. You’ll see the house.”

Ever the loyal soldier, you did exactly as you were told.

•°•

As the sun began to set, you stumbled through the front door of a small farmhouse, evidently falling apart at the edges. The brick exterior was encrusted thick with lichen, and the wooden window frames were weathered and crumbling.

Price had made himself comfortable inside; lounging on a dusty old couch in front of a raw brick fireplace. He hadn’t lit it, but judging by the smoke, he settled for puffing on a cigar.

It hung loosely from his lips as he turned his head to face you, a newspaper folded across his lap.

“You killed the insurgent?” Was the first thing he said.

You ripped off your comms collar angrily, spitting out a bitter yes before dropping your pack and walking into the kitchen. You got yourself a glass of water and gulped it down, placing the glass into the sink before walking into the main room of the farmhouse.

You slumped onto the other end of the couch. Price watched you, one arm stretched out along the backrest; the other moving to hold his cigar aloft as he puffed out a cloud of greyish smoke.

“I heard from the boys about twenty minutes ago,” Price said, thumbing the waxy paper of his cigar. “They’re an hour east. Together. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

You nodded, eyes drifting closed. The mission adrenaline had run out, and exhaustion was creeping into your bones.

You heard Price chuckle. “Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Get some rest,” he said, tossing the remains of his cigar into the empty fireplace. “You deserve it.”

•°•

It was very, very early when you woke up with a start. It was still pitch black outside, constellations twinkling overhead. You blinked through the darkness of the room you were in, straining your ears as you listened to rummaging somewhere down the hall.

You got out of bed, snatching your pistol from off the nightstand, creeping out the door and down the hall. A flickering light was on in the main room of the farmhouse, and you poked your head warily around the corner.

Price was awake, sitting on the couch. He was sitting in just his work pants; his chest bare and, you realised, smeared with blood. You entered the room and put your pistol on the kitchen countertop as you passed it.

Grunting in pain beneath his breath, Price was attempting to wrap a wound on his shoulder. Dark rivers of blood flowed from his bruised flesh, down his pec and along the soft lines of his stomach.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” You said, approaching him.

“Didn’t think it mattered.” He replied, not looking at you.

You sighed, sitting next to him on the couch. He finally looked at you, complexion pale in the flickering light.

“Can I help you?” You nodded at the wound and, with a small grunt, Price angled his body towards you.

It was a stab wound. Not too big, not too deep, but still enough that blood was oozing continuously. You picked up from where he left it: wrapping fresh gauze around the wound as tight as possible without cutting circulation.

“How does that feel?” You asked, running your fingers gently over the gauze.

He huffed, a breath of cigar smoke and mint. “Good, love. Good.”

You ignored the term of endearment, but suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were to sitting on your captain’s lap: legs brushing, chest just inches from his. His breathing fluttered the baby hairs near your forehead.

You cleared your throat. “Did you want some pain relief? I can check my pack. I should have some morphine somewhere, or maybe ketamine—”

He shook his head with a grimace. “I’m alright. Just… just sit with me for a bit.”

“Oh…” You blinked up at him. “Okay. Yeah.”

He exhaled through his nose, reclining in the chair and closing his eyes. You watched the way his chest rose and fell, strong abdomen moving up and down. It was still streaked with blood, so an idea came to mind.

You pattered into the kitchen, grabbed a cloth and wet it, entering the main room once more. You then began to clean Price’s blood away. Price jolted when the wet cloth hit his bare skin.

“What are—?”

“Just cleaning you up.”

“You don’t have—”

“It’s fine, captain. I really want to help.”

His eyes darkened, but he said nothing else. He just watched you clean the blood out of his skin. Once you disposed of the cloth, you retook your place on the couch beside him. He was appraising you with a curious look. One that made you suddenly shy.

“Is… is there anything else I can do to help you?” You asked, voice quiet.

There were several things you wanted to do for him. Things you had thought about for months. But, he was your boss, your captain, and you should be ashamed to ever think—

“A kiss better would be nice.”

Excuse me.

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and reveal that, haha, it was a joke. Hilarious!

…But he didn’t.

He peered down at you through long lashes, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his lips. You met his gaze, confused. But you could feel your cheeks growing embarrassingly hot.

“You…? Are you joking?” You whispered, dumbfounded and at a loss for any other words to express yourself.

He shook his head gently. “No, this is a serious matter, sergeant. I do believe a kiss would make me feel a lot better.”

You bit your lip, and Price followed the movement with dilated pupils. “Just… okay, just a kiss?” You uttered, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Just a kiss.” He whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what the fuck he was saying.

Steeling your nerves, you leaned in and cupped his face, placing your lips gently to his. He hummed, satisfied, as he kissed you back. After a few thumping beats of your heart, you pulled away. He pressed his forehead to yours and you both breathed hard.

You stared at each other, consumed by each other’s space, presence. You could feel how warm he was. How safe he was.

“I think I might need a bit more than that to really make sure I’m feeling better.” Price quipped, before slamming his mouth back onto yours.

He dragged his tongue along the seam of your lips and you parted them: allowing him access. He deepened the kiss and lifted his good arm, resting a large hand on the back of your head. His not-so-good arm found a gentle place on your hip.

“We shouldn’t…” You gasped.

“You want to stop?”

“No.”

He smiled against your mouth, tongue smoothing against yours. “Didn’t think so.”

You whined into the kiss, and he groaned out in response. Everything about him was warm: his mouth, his tongue, his hands. You were heating up at the way he held you to him. Your mind was hazy, dizzy with lust.

“Shit—” Price pulled back to growl, shifting his injured shoulder away. You flinched, suddenly remembering that he was, in fact, still injured.

“Captain, oh my god, I am so sorry—”

“Wasn’t you, love,” he grimaced, leaning his back against the couch. He took a deep breath. “Just stings a bit.”

“I offered you pain relief—”

“And I refused.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stubborn bastard.”

He chuckled darkly. “Is that any way to talk to your captain?” He then gestured to his lap, urging you to sit. You looked at him challengingly. You were suddenly in the mood to challenge your captain. Great idea, sergeant.

“What do you want?” You asked, faux innocence in your tone. “You’ve got to tell me, captain.”

You expected a snide reply. A witty comeback that would get you all hot and flustered. But instead, he groaned, low in his throat.

“Want you.”

It took a few seconds for you to comprehend his tone. The need in his voice. The whine. You fought a smile from your face.

“Want me? Want me to do what?” You slid closer, a hand on his thigh. “Come on, Price. You’re my captain for a reason. Give me proper orders.”

He was breathing heavily. Panting as he stared at you. His cock was hard, tenting his pants. When he responded, his voice was hoarse, strained with pleasure and tobacco smoke. “Want you to suck my cock.”

You smiled, slipping off the couch and onto your knees in front of him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You mused, shuffling between his spread legs and beginning to unzip his pants. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you used the motion to slip his pants further down his legs.

You leaned closer, running your fingers along the waistband of his boxers, just skimming the solid imprint of his cock. He huffed above you, breathing erratically as he watched you.

“Please, love. Come on.”

You hummed, dipping your hand into his boxers and pulling his cock free. When your fingers enclosed around him, Price let out a low moan, shooting his good hand down to grip your hair.

“Fuck sake—” He choked as you pressed a kiss to his tip, flushed red and already leaking.

You smiled to yourself. He was warm and throbbing in your hand and you realised that you did that. You made your captain like this.

“Use that pretty mouth, love, come on.” Price breathed, pushing your head gently. Your lips nudged his tip again and he sighed. “Want your mouth.”

You obliged, wrapping your lips around him and dragging them downwards. He groaned deeply, fingers tight in your hair as you took his cock deeper into the heat of your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat and you resisted the urge to gag, tears appearing in your waterline.

“So good, so good…” Price was mumbling as you began a comfortable pace; bobbing up and down with his hand in your hair. He wasn’t altering your pace in any way. His hand simply remained a firm comfort.

You felt his thighs flex beside your head, hips twitching as you sucked. Saliva pooled past your lips, down the length of him. You used a hand to smear it around the base. He cursed at that, sending a throb of arousal to your cunt.

“So good, love,” he repeated, pupils blown as he looked down at you. “Better than I imagined. Fucked my fist to the thought of your mouth so many times, jus’ thinking about your pretty lips wrapped all nice around my cock.”

You blinked tears away from your eyes and he moved his injured arm to your face. He wiped the tears with his thumb. He then pressed his thumb to the seam of your lips, feeling where his cock was essentially choking you. You whined up at him, and he smiled back.

“Such a good sergeant, sucking her captain’s cock.” He said, retracting his hand.

He had gained a bit of cockiness, noted. But you smiled internally. That wouldn’t last.

You quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around his cock until you felt it twitching in your mouth. He had gone quiet now— words replaced by airy grunts and groans as he held your head, bucking his hips. He was close, judging by the way his tip flooded pre along your tongue, and how his fingers began to tighten in your hair.

“Love, gonna—”

You pulled away, gripping his cock firmly at the base. He let out a soft gasp, wrenching his eyes open to look down at you. You licked your lips, saliva dripping down your chin. You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

He frowned at you. “What—?”

“Consider that punishment for not telling me you were hurt.” You battered your eyelashes at him as you crawled onto his lap, still holding his cock.

It was wet with your saliva, the tip flushed red. It was hot in your hand, twitching against your palm as both of you looked down at it. Price rested his forehead against yours, breath coming in pants as you lazily started stroking him. Your soft touch, your warmth, your perfume. You were going to be the death of him.

“Need you love, please.” He whispered, shifting his forehead to rest in the crook of your neck. He kissed the skin above your shirt, sucking a hickey onto the sensitive flesh.

You withheld a moan. “Need what? Need me to do what? You’ve gotta tell me, captain. Come on.”

He whined into your neck. Your cunt throbbed at that. Skimming his teeth along your neck, he pulled back, lips flushed and eyes glassy as he looked up at you. He had both his hands on the small of your back, pushing you closer to him.

“Need your cunt,” he whined, low. “Need that tight fucking cunt around my cock. Need to feel it, love, please.”

Who were you to deny your captain of his request?

You slowly, tantalisingly brought your shirt over your head. With no bra, your tits fell freely in front of his face and you saw his eyes light up like a teenage boy. His mouth was immediately on them, sucking bruising marks around your nipples.

You let a groan slip past your lips as you worked your pants off, struggling but eventually managing to slide them onto the floor while still situated on Price’s lap. When you had done that, he was finishing his hickeys on your other breast, chest moving rapidly against you.

“Perfect,” He whispered as he pulled away, moving his hands to cup your tits. “You’re absolutely perfect, aren’t you, sergeant?”

“Only for you, captain.” You took his good hand and guided it down to your underwear. You pushed his fingers against your clothed core, leaning towards him and moaning softly in his ear.

“Feel how wet you make me,” you purred. “I’ve fucked myself so many times thinking about you, your fingers, your cock. Wanted you for so long.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grit his teeth, rubbing your wet core through the cotton of your underwear. He then moved them to the side, rubbing a finger along your slit with a groan. “You’re soaked, love. Want my cock that bad, huh? What would the boys think if they saw how needy you were for their captain? Ghost would be beside himself.”

You smiled, biting back a moan. Your hands were around his neck, careful of his shoulder, and you steadied yourself, rocking gently in his lap. He watched you with a calculating gaze, and he tutted gently at you, still stroking your cunt with a thick finger.

“You naughty girl. You want the boys to know? Want Ghost to know?” He mused, angling his hips so your clothed cunt rubbed against his cock. “Want him to fuck you, too?”

You moaned.

He took that as your answer.

“Yeah? Want your lieutenant to fuck your tight cunt as well?” He ripped your underwear off your body, causing you to gasp, the impact stinging the sides of your thighs. “Want us both? Want Ghost and me? Naughty fucking girl, eh?”

You moaned, your plan to challenge your captain slipping away. But you were desperate to hold onto it. So, with one last shaky breath, you dragged his hand away from your throbbing cunt and turned the tables.

“You’d love it,” you said, sucking his finger into your mouth. “You’d love to watch Ghost fuck me, wouldn’t you? Love to see me come apart on his cock while you fuck my mouth. You’d love it, wouldn’t you, captain?”

You got him again.

He groaned, tossing his head back and bucking his hips to try and bring friction to his cock. But you lifted your hips, your dripping cunt just out of his reach. He moved his finger from your mouth and settled both hands on your hips.

He kissed you, and you let him. His tongue brushed against yours, claiming. His taste was intoxicating.

“Let me take care of you.” You said softly as you pulled away.

He nodded, resting comfortably on the couch with his hands on your hips. You positioned yourself with your entrance above his cock. Gripping him, you ran his tip through your wet folds, causing him to release a noise, a mix between a sigh and a growl.

“Be a good boy, captain, and let me take care of you.” You whispered as you sank down on his cock.

The noise that elicited from his mouth was jaw-dropping. He released a breathy moan, followed by a series of deep pants as you slowly, slowly dragged yourself back up, and then slammed yourself back onto him. He screwed his eyes shut, head tossed over the back of the couch as you moved against him. He was puffing out small moans, deep from his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that—” he whined, gripping your hips harder. “Just like that, love. Fuck, feels so good on my cock. Taking me so— ha—fuck— good, love.”

You were making him a whiny mess beneath you. Mission successful, you smiled as you fucked yourself on his cock. The blunt head of it slammed repeatedly into the spot inside you that made you moan and soak him even more. Butterflies flew around your insides. The insides of your belly were growing hot.

Price opened his eyes, looking down at where his cock entered you again and again. “Taking my cock so well, love. Look at you. So good for me. So good for your captain.”

Your cunt ached around his cock, clit pulsing with its own heartbeat. You were sensitive and needy and really wanted to cum. The sensations inside you were building, but you wanted to try something again—

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Price?” You squeezed his cock tighter. “Such a good boy, fucking me so good. Isn’t that right?”

A beat passed and you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But—

He let out a loud, breathy whine: something that did not sound like it belonged to him. He stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, moaning into your skin, whimpering softly as he rutted into you harder.

“Yeah, love. I’m your good boy.” It was quiet, almost inaudible, but it was there.

Enough so that your orgasm hit you out of nowhere and you came with a moan of his name. You burst around his cock, cum splattering through his pubic hair and up the line of hair on his abdomen.

He groaned into your neck, thrusts sloppy and erratic and desperate. He dragged his teeth along your skin.

“Gonna cum, love. Please— ha, shit— let me cum inside you— hngh— please.” He mumbled against your neck.

Becoming slightly overstimulated— he was fucking you hard, after all— you nodded feverishly. “Cum inside me, Price. Wanna feel you.”

With one last dragged-out moan, he came, your name on his lips.

Ropes of warmth filled you, flooding around his cock as he breathed frantically against your neck. It spilled out onto his lap, making the backs of your thighs all sticky.

Gently, you rubbed his back with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. He groaned lowly, still attached to your neck, lazily sucking another bruise there.

“Feel better?” You asked, holding him close to you as his hands moved from your hips, circling around your middle to push your body against his.

“Much better,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“S’all right. What kind of sergeant would I be if I didn’t look after my captain?”

He finally looked up, giving you a stern look. But you couldn’t take him seriously when his face was all flushed, eyes glossy and lips rouged. You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

A few quiet moments passed, basking in each other’s presence, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Then, Price cleared his throat. “So, you want Ghost to fuck you?”

“You like being called a good boy?”

He went quiet.

You laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He pressed his head back into the slope of your neck. “Deal.”

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[the-californicationist]

fluffy smutty dom soap just spoiling the everliving shit out of the female mc, like they've been lovey dovey so much but theyre finally getting down to businesssssssss (to defeat... THE HUNSSSSS)

idk if this is what you were looking for.... but!! 😅

TW: rough sex, collar, D/s, face fucking, boot-riding, female reader, unsafe motorcycle events, enthusiastic consent and prior boundaries

Backpacking

Soap’s hands grabbed yours and pulled them around his waist, showing you just how tight to hold on. You could feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, and you let your fingers tease the hem of his thin tee shirt, tracing little lines across his belly. 

You’d spent the whole day on the back of his motorcycle, speeding from one town to the next, packing his side bags full of trinkets and jewelry — anything you wanted, he handed over his card. A brand new baby pink helmet? Check. The safety jacket to match? Check. A white leather collar with the cutest little bell? Check. He was doing anything and everything he could to treat you like a princess, and as much fun as you were having, you could recognize a pre-apology from a mile away. 

He wanted to butter you up, to lull you into a false sense of relaxed euphoria, and then he’d pounce. You knew his patterns well. He’d compliment you, calling you the bonniest wee backpack he ever did see, telling you that you were his fit lassie, prettier than any other, and that you felt so good wrapped around him when he rode. 

Soap lifted up your legs and scooted you forward, jamming you up against him. Then, the bike roared to life, ready to take you home. You could feel the machine rumble beneath you, vibrating right to your very core. 

You dared move your hands lower, cupping his heavy cock in your hands, feeling him twitch, threatening to get hard behind the zipper of his jeans. 

“Lass,” he warned, flipping up the visor to his helmet while he waited at the red light. 

The light turned green and he flipped it back down, turning his attention back to the road. 

You moved your hands again, squeezing him and massaging him until he was throbbing. You knew you were in for a world of hurt when you got home, but that was miles away. When he sped up, you squeezed harder, finding his swollen head and torturing it with your fingertips, spidering your nails across the stretched denim, knowing he would feel the ghost of your touch against his skin. 

He was certainly bothered. You could tell he was gunning for home, taking all of the shortcuts, shifting in his seat. Then, a stop sign. It was the entrance to your village, and your house wasn’t far off. 

As he rolled to a stop, he didn’t say a word, but his masked face looked over his shoulder at you, and you could feel his eyes, fiery and vengeful. It made your legs tremble, knowing how he would punish you. 

The twists and turns to your home were achingly slow compared to your ride on the highway, and the anticipation mounted in your belly. He pushed the button for the garage and rode inside with you still on the back, which was not your normal procedure. Soap usually helped you down from the seat, sending you inside so he could get his gear off. But, you were trapped up there until he dismounted. 

He parked the bike and killed the engine. Then, he closed the garage, leaving you in the dim light, watching him swing his leg over the low handlebars and stand up. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you, shoving you back down with a wide hand on your hip.

“Nuh uh, I dinnae think so, bonnie. You’ve been a naughty wee backpack today, you ken?”

You pulled off your helmet, fixing your braid, peppering your words with just a little more attitude than they needed, 

“I just wanted —”

His hand darted to your neck with a violent snap, something you hadn’t experienced, and he startled you. It also made your body extremely pliant, and you felt your hole pulse for him, turned on by his sudden aggression. Soap’s helm was still on, and it muffled his voice, but you could still hear him, 

Your helmet fell out of your hands, and he caught it, setting it down with his free hand on the workbench. His other hand tightened around your neck,

“Take off your clothes, bonnie girl. Every bit.”

He released you from his grasp, but you were still trapped, forced to strip on the bike, unable to dismount as he was standing in your way. Soap was just watching you, occasionally palming his hard cock through his pants just as you had on the bike, hungry and fully in control. 

“Johnny, I promise…”

He grabbed your throat again, staring at your state of undress, just panties and socks remaining, and he barked his commands at you, 

“Kiss me.”

“What? With your helmet on?”

His hand constricted your throat even tighter as a warning, and he whispered in a deep growl,

“Like you mean it, bonnie.”

Unable to escape, you began to kiss his helmet. It was plasticky and dusty from the road, but you tried to comply, licking and sucking at the mask, leaving little trails of drool across the dark visor. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Show me how sorry you are. Your man treated you like a princess, hm? And you were a wee brat, rubbin’ my cock all the way home. Teasin’ me. Such a bad girl.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” you gave him your best doe-eyed impression, but it was no use. 

“You will be,” he growled. 

All in a flash, he shoved you over the seat of the bike, the engine still warm beneath the leather, soft and supple as you lay on your belly. From this angle, your ass was up in the air, your feet barely touching the garage floor, and your head was hanging off of the side, blocking your view. 

Then, a hard slap rang out through the garage. You heard it before you felt it, but the sting sent you reeling. You cried out with a shriek and he hit you again. It was the other cheek this time, but it hurt just as bad. 

“Johnny, please!”

You heard him rip off his helmet. It clattered to the floor and he reached over the bike, pulling you up by the nape of your neck, forcing you to arch your back, 

“Mercy? Where was my fuckin’ mercy while you were havin’ your fun on the M80?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m — nghh!” You whispered a slew of apologies, but you were silenced as you felt his cockhead being shoved roughly against your folds, pulsing through your tight muscles, popping into place with a hot, unbearable pressure.

Soap began to thrust himself into you, both hands tangled in your hair at the base of your skull, the full weight of his body rocking into you, threatening to knock over the bike. But, it was in its wheel locks, and it wasn’t going anywhere. You had received no kindness. No soft licks with his smooth, generous tongue, no delicate swipes from his finger. Johnny was making you take his cock raw… and you loved it. 

“Mmf-fuck!” He groaned, bending himself over you like a rabid dog, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you up with his enormous arms, your breasts swaying with every unforgiving thrust. 

“Is tha’ what you needed, hm? My bonnie backpack just needed to be stuffed full of her man’s fat prick, is tha’ it?”

“Yes-s-s-s, sir!”

“Takin’ me so well, princess. You ken I love it when you’re a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

Every word that oozed from his mouth was punctuated by another overwhelming invasion of his hard rod, and even though you were intimately familiar with his size and shape, you couldn’t remember ever feeling him go this deep. He was relentless, and his pace was taking your breath away. 

Suddenly, you were lifted from the bike, and his hand forced its way into your collar, controlling your every movement. You were pushed to your knees, and you landed in a splayed, awkward way, with Johnny bent over you, snarling into your face,

“Find my boot with that wet little slit, princess. Find it. Tha’s it. Spread those legs. Show me you can be my good girl.”

You were cock-drunk and lost now that you were empty, but you did as you were told. You held onto his huge thigh and humped your hips down, trying to reach for the toe of his riding boot. When you found it, you noticed how he had it angled up for you, ready for you to grind yourself into it like the wanton little thing you were. 

When you felt the smoothness of the leather toe, you became all too happy to oblige, thrusting forward and back, rubbing yourself to an almost-orgasm on his boot. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, you heard him chuckle, and you felt your neck being yanked by the collar, pulled face-to-face with his dripping cockhead. 

“Open up, bonnie.”

He didn’t wait for long. Johnny pressed his cock into your mouth, making you taste yourself, giving you a few shallow thrusts to get used to his thick girth. He still had his fingers laced through your new collar, and as he began to shove his length past your shining lips, the bell made a darling little tinkling sound. 

“Mmm,” he smiled down at you, petting the hair out of your face with his other hand, “There she is. There’s my good girl. My backpack loves to be stuffed. Loves to swallow my load, huh? Tell me how much you love it.”

“Mmph mmn mgh!” You tried to speak, but his dick was filling your cheeks, making it impossible. 

Another sharp yank on your collar got your attention, and your eyes darted to his, wide and full of wonder. He smiled, commanding you,

“Louder, bonnie. Cannae hear you clearly.”

“Mmph mmn mgh! Mmn mgh!” You were basically screaming against his flesh, struggling to push your voice out just like he wanted you to. You wanted to be so good. 

You continued to rub yourself on his boot, and you were getting close. You gripped his thigh tighter, fucking yourself with the smooth leather, chasing your high.

But, it was Soap who got you there. He grabbed you by the face and pushed himself down into your throat to his hilt, burying your nose in his curls, running his thumb over your tear-stained cheeks and coaching you through it, 

“Come for me, bonnie. Come right now. Tha’s it. Scream. Scream on my cock, you pretty little slut. Mngh! Tha’s it!”

Your body didn’t give you a choice. It was on his side, and it followed his orders. You felt yourself coming, shaking in your legs, gushing all over his shoe, staining the concrete floor of the garage, screaming like you were dying. 

He pulled himself out of you all in one, gentle go. Then, he started jerking himself off, keeping hold of your collar, fisting his cock onto your cheek. 

“Close your eyes, princess, and open up that filthy fuckin’ mouth.”

You obeyed, pliant as ever, and as you did, you felt his come coat your face, rope after rope, warm and creamy, getting all over your cheeks and mouth. You opened your eyes to look at him, and he was worn out, wrung like a rag, panting and dizzy. He used the tip of his dick to paint your lips one more time, and  you cleaned him up, laving him with your tongue from base to tip, letting his seed drip off of your nose and jaw, not caring how messy you were. 

While he was watching you, you swiped a dollop of his come up with your finger and began eating it from your hands, showing him your tongue, trying to please him with your loyal obedience. 

“Oh, fuck. Such a pretty girl. So perfect. Best fuckin’ backpack in the whole world, bonnie.”

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