God must be so disappointed in me

nsfw minors DNI

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Johnny boys a biter.

It’s not even in a lustful way, he just loves to bite you! It’s his love language!!

You could be sitting next to him at the pub when he’d take your hand in his and begin to nibble on your fingers.

He’ll stand behind you while you’re in the kitchen making the two of you a meal or popcorn for a movie night and nibble on your shoulder, neck and anywhere else he can easily get to. Yes, this includes biting at your cheek.

He loves to see the aftermath of his loving bite sessions, the hickeys and faint bite marks. It reminds him that he is yours and you are his, especially when you give them in return. He loves when you give them in return.

Johnny’s fascinated by the engraving marks his teeth can make, so it’s safe to say you have them everywhere.

Johnny also loves to mark you up during sex in any place he can.

Your neck, shoulders, tits, stomach, thighs.. everywhere is marked with teeth marks and hickeys from him.

He’s so very whiny when you give him marks yourself, claiming you’re trying to kill him with how teasing you are.. but that’s not to say it doesn’t make him unbelievably turned on.

He knows your marks might hurt when he touches them, especially if he had gotten too far away from himself and lost control, but he can’t help but to run his fingers over them:( they look so pretty on your skin and the way you squirm away only makes him want to give you more!!

He pouts like a puppy if you scold him:(

He just wants to show you how much he loves you, and he wants everyone to know who you belong to:(

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matching with simon on a dating app and seeing him quite literally fumble a baddie cuz he has a chat personality of a stale bread that you almost didn’t want to meet up with him but c’mon look at him. so anyway, who needs a chat personality when he’s like that in person?

(he’s big and beautiful and filling. curling his fingers just right; pressing the flat of his tongue on your slit; fucking deep. slow. each thrust a punching one that makes your eyes roll back. his kisses searing. he is an electrifying force, and you are drunk off him—

but also the dry humour, the way each sarcastic joke lands perfectly with that rumbled voice that drawls out his words. the sincerity in whatever he says. then, the snort, the puffed chuckle, that bellowed guffaw.

thank god you chanced the meet-up.)

Sleepy puppy,, puppy dozing off while you fuck him or pet him or cuddle him. Sleepy puppy. Cozy comfy sleepy puppy all warm in bed snuggled up while you finger him but keep telling him to go to sleep. Don’t let him cum because you don’t wanna distract him from falling asleep, right? [it’s me I’m puppy please please it’s me]

I love the idea of the bottom accidentally topping is so fucking hot. Imagine getting fucked hard but you just need a little bit more. You start to up them more and more and more until your eventually are riding their strap. They try to take back control but you hold them down because you still need just a little bit more. You hold them down a ride harder and harder until you finally cum. You left little claw marks and bruises from how hard you held them down. Fuccck I need that

Posted on Heather’s orders 🥰

it's just plain knowledge - simon r.: your lover had a habit of bullying you. how could he not? he had grown up in such a way that he enjoyed pushing you to your sexual limit. he loved using his size and strength to his advantage.

"don't whimper, love. lemme tell ya all about the guns they let me use." his voice curled in your ear with his large hand on your hip. you knew you'd have to save some of your mental capacities to remember what simon was about to show you.

there is somno here !! the start of the scene is marked with a heart banner, so is the end. Read responsibly !!

They were already stripped bare—sweaty, panting, their bodies pressed together like they couldn’t get close enough. Ghost was on his back, mask long gone, eyes wild and half-lidded, lips parted as Soap straddled his thigh, rutting slow and desperate.

“Johnny,” Simon groaned, voice wrecked. “C’mere—want more. Wanna feel you.”

you were thankful for the storm that suddenly erupted outside the doors of the small clinic, the darkness of the sky concealing you from prying eyes as your back arched up off the desk.

the thunder that rolled about up above mixed with the sounds of your cries, wanton moans that came out strangled, breathy.

the air was continuously being punched from your lungs each time ghost moved, his hips grinding up against your ass and the backs of your thighs.

your lashes fluttered against the flush of your pink cheeks, mouth hanging open. a sight for sore eyes.

“best…fuckin' meal i ever had.”

his voice was molasses, thick and smooth. you tried so desperately to focus on the way he spoke, on the way his honey colored eyes stayed locked with your own, but it was pointless.

you were too far over the edge, his cock gliding against the spongy walls of your pussy. he was reaching places you could never reach on your own.

“takin’ me so well, sweetheart.”

the warmth of his palm pressed down on on your stomach, and it’s your undoing.

you see a glimpse of heaven, the darkened room suddenly becoming so bright. you clench around him so tight his thrusts stutter from the grip.

but he picks the speed back up almost immediately, his stamina far outmatching your own.

“no, no. not done with ya yet. can gimme another, can’t ya sweet girl?”

a second part to this ♡

how the 141 eat you out !!

price, ghost, gaz, soap headcanons ^o^

price likes to keep things easier for himself. augh, he’s just getting older by the minute and can’t keep up with your youth—doesn’t mean he’ll let his birdie down, of course. he’ll shush any overthought anxieties that come from you when he tells you to get up and sit on his face. 

laying down on your comfy, shared bed and patting the space next to him, praising you, “tha’s a good girl,” when you comply, hovering over his jaw. your clothed pussy’s drenched middle sends soft grins to the man below you, he takes a quick lick at the sweet slick seeping through and hums in delight. 

Killshot. A badass callsign, yeah? Given to you by the original team you joined all those years ago. Unfortunately for you, it was ironic. You couldn't shoot the paint off a barn wall.

The only reason you made it to the 141 was you were fairly decent with a line of code.

So imagine your surprise when you get deployed on a real mission. Like, a real big girl mission. Not just playing on the PC in Price's office in-between intel theft.

Now the men aren't stupid, you don't get to be in the front lines. You get to sit pretty at command and feed them instructions. Fine, yeah?

No!!! Not fine!!!

Cause you get made very quickly, and you are being stared down by a terrorist with a rifle and all you have is a glock you barely know how to clean.

Your comms are silent, so 141 immediately knows something is up. Price is closest when he hears shots fired straight from command.

When he gets there, the terrorist is dead on the floor. Quarter sized hole right between the eyes. Nice fucking shot.

He is baffled, but youre shaking like a leaf, gun still drawn out. He steps over the body and eased the glock from your hand.

"You hurt, swee'heart?"

You managed to shake your head right as the other 3 men crash into command.

You let out a shaky breath, "I was aiming for his knee..."

Price cant help his smile, his pebble is somehow both the most capable girl and the most defenseless one. He can't wait till you finally let him discharge you and keep you locked up at home.

Gaz is so sure you're lying now. Youve been hustling them right? That shot is too clean, baby

Soap? He's turned on. The fucking freak. Cmon bonnie, not everyday the lass of his dreams kills a man. By accident too??? He's practically humping your leg as he comforts you.

Simon has a frustrated tick in his jaw. He was going to be running you on shooting drills for the foreseeable future. Wont be letting his dovie survive on pure dumb luck.

One thing they agree on? You are never leaving base again.

(inspired by the LDSK ep of criminal minds....)

People often wondered how Kyle Garrick could stay composed while working.

how he could be so.. emotionally stable.

how he was always able to temper down his rage and stay calm as he followed his captain's order, even if it was against the morals he believed in.

sure, his anger might show from time to time, but he could always keep it under control in the end.

he'd say that it took patience.. as time molded him into the perfect soldier he was..

what people didn't know was, every time he needed to let out some steam, he would knock on the door to your quarters.

being a medic meant you would do your best to take care of him so he could perform his best on the field.

at least that's what you said.

he took it that you wouldn't mind being his pretty little chew toy, do you?

Price hitting his team of daddy issues with "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed"

Simon hadn’t thought much of it when Price first wormed his way under his skin. It made sense—he never had much of a father growing up. Clinging to a strong, commanding presence like Price was just natural. Logical, even. It wasn’t weird.

But when Laswell started getting under his skin the same way? That was when the cracks started forming.

She’d always been firm with him. A voice of reason. A leader who didn’t take bullshit but always had his back. It wasn’t the same as Price—her authority was quieter, sharper. She didn’t bark orders; she directed. And he listened, just like he always did.

He never questioned why his stomach clenched when she praised him.

He never thought twice about the way his breath caught when she gave him that knowing, almost-smirking look over the rim of her coffee mug.

He never hesitated to murmur, Thanks after she squeezed his shoulder post-mission, a quiet Good work, son leaving her lips.

Until today.

'Solid job, Riley,' Laswell said as they stepped off the helo, the mission behind them. 'Did exactly what you needed to do.' Her hand found his arm, squeezing lightly. 'Proud of you, son.'

A familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. Tight. Searing. Right.

Simon swallowed. 'Thanks, ma.'

Laswell froze.

Only for a second—so quick anyone else would have missed it. But Simon saw it. He felt it.

It was the same thing he’d seen in Price’s eyes the first time he called him da. The same thing that had burned in the Captain’s stare when Simon, sweaty and wrecked from training, grunted out a casual thanks, da over a cold bottle of water.

And Laswell? She wasn’t much different.

Her fingers twitched against his arm before she let go, clearing her throat, tilting her head as if considering him.

'John mentioned you’ve got a habit of saying that,' she murmured.

Simon opened his mouth. Closed it. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Because the truth—the actual truth—was clawing its way to the surface now, ugly and inescapable.

He didn’t just have daddy issues.

He had mommy issues, too.

And that was strange. That was wrong. Because his mum had been perfect. Soft and loving and good, right up until the day she wasn’t there anymore.

Laswell wasn’t anything like her. Neither was Price.

So why did it feel the same?

Why did it settle into his chest like something inevitable, like something that had always been there, just waiting to be acknowledged?

Laswell’s lips curled- just slightly, just enough that it sent a spike of heat down his spine.

She patted his cheek, her palm warm, fingers just a little too slow to pull away.

'Well,' she said, voice smooth, amused. 'I’ll take that as a compliment.'

And then she walked away, leaving Simon standing there, jaw tight, thoughts spinning, fucking ruined.

Shit.

Already planning a part 3 hehe

The atmosphere was thick with tension, but Simon didn’t seem to care. He looked down at you, a grin curling on his lips as you struggled beneath him. The control was all his, and he was reveling in it. His hand fisted in your hair, a soft tug pulling you just a little tighter against him, and he could feel the way your throat constricted as you gagged.

“C'mon, dove…” Simon’s voice was a mockingly gentle whisper, the amusement clear in the tone. “Use yer words.” His fingers tightened in your hair, but the way he stroked your scalp afterward made it feel like a twisted sort of affection. “If ya want somethin’, ya jus’ gotta say somethin’…”

You gagged again, struggling to breathe, your hands gripping his thighs, desperate for release. Simon chuckled above you, his fingers never wavering, forcing you to stay at the pace he wanted. He was watching you, each little noise you made, each time you choked, feeding his amusement and dark satisfaction.

The way his hand tugged your hair again made it clear he wasn’t going to let up. You were his to control, and your reactions were nothing but fuel to his fire. “Can’t even talk, huh? Little birdie’s too fucked up on me, can’t get a word out?” Simon mocked, his voice husky, laced with both amusement and a possessive edge.

You tried again, desperate to show some sign that you could handle it, that you could do anything, but it only led to another gagging fit, and Simon’s grin only widened. His hand tightened, pulling your head back harder, forcing you to look up at him, cock deep in your throat, splitting your lips apart.

“Guess not, then,” he hummed, teasingly petting your hair like you were nothing more than a plaything. “That’s alright, dove. I gotcha. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just keep doin’ it until you can’t take no more.”

The rhythmic force of his hand in your hair combined with the lack of mercy in his gaze made everything feel dizzying, his voice cutting through the haze of your choking. “You wanted this, yeah? Now, you better show me you can handle it, dove. Or you won' get t' cum.”

His breath hitched as he thrust deeper, his smirk still in place as he watched you struggle. He reveled in your inability to speak, your desperate attempts to push him away or find some air, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Ya don’t need words to show me, though,” he chuckled darkly, thrusting again, his pace picking up. “Just need to keep goin’, don’t I?”

He wasn’t asking. He was telling you. And he fully expected you to comply, even if it meant leaving you breathless, struggling, and craving more. His chuckle rang in your ears, the teasing bite of his voice making you feel utterly powerless, even as you tried to steady yourself, focusing only on trying to take what he gave you.

Big, bad, brooding Simon, nothing cracks his shell. Nothing. He's killed men in cold blood and he'll do it again. It doesn't haunt him the way it should. He's a machine.

A loyal, well oiled machine.

He hadn't even realized it when his Captain had wormed his way into his heart. It wasn't weird. Its not like he had the most active father growing up. It was normal, even, for his heart to clench to clench when Price called him 'Son.'

Completely normal.

It was normal on missions, when adrenaline was coursing through this body, straight to his cock, Simon would tug one out. All to the thought of John.

It wasn't weird.

Simon trusted him with his life, on and off the field. He didn't blink twice when Captain put a hand on his shoulders, squeezing softly, 'You did bloody good out there, son.' He responded, no waver in his voice, 'Thanks, da.' Simple.

Simon had no way of knowing how that went straight to Price's dick. The older man would have never expected that. Never expected him to respond with that.

To Simon, it wasn't weird. It was respect. To John, it was fucking filthy. It was hot.

The younger soldier didn't even have the decency to only say it in private either. He'd pass John at mess, nod his head, 'Gonna go train, da.' He damn near choked on his drink. Soap staring with an open mouth.

John's favorite? Simon all sweaty from training, half out of breath. Captain hands him a cold bottle, and Lieutenant let out a soft growly hum, 'Thanks, da...'

'Course, Swee'heart'

He paused, just a second before tilting his head back and taking a drink.

When Bravo Six takes his Ghost out to a pub, just the two of them, of course its not a date. Just dad and son getting drinks to celebrate a successful mission. At least thats all Simon thought it was.

He knew otherwise now. Obviously.

John behind him, pushing the soldier's back into an arch while he split him in half. 'So fuckin tight for me, kid....'

Simon 'first time with a man' Riley babbling absolutely stupid and pathetic while getting fucked. 'Need... more please- John fuck-'

'Thats not how your supposed to call me.... is it love?' John teased, snapping his hips harder.

The lieutenant tearing up- cause its just so much- and whimpering 'Da please!'

John leans down, chest to his boy's back, locking his arm around his neck in a chokehold, 'Good boy.... such a good little thing for me, son..'.

Simon who sobs as he cums. John who provides meticulous aftercare.

Ghost who calls him Dad. Bravo Six who takes care of his son.

PART 2