luvbabydoll

[luvbabydoll]

༉‧₊˚. Simon Riley ruining reader cw// ᴍᴅɴɪ, simon riley being a big meanie, choking, rough sex, creampies, throat fucking, nipple play, mentions of breeding, simon being a bit disgusting

𐙚 Simon Riley knew that he was big, big in every possible sense. a huge mass of a man that wore a skull mask to hide his rugged scarred face from the world and it was only natural for people to get intimidated by him. And being in the military on top of it he wasn't exactly shaped to be a gentle soul but he always tried to be very gentle with especially you, to his pretty little dove.

But here he was, pounding mercilessly into your swollen little cunt. His thrusts made the wooden bed frame slam into the wall and he was certain that it will only take a couple more thrusts for it to break completely.

He tore his gaze away from the frame and looked down at his dumbed out girlfriend. His thick tatted arm choking your pretty neck while his hips maintained their ruthless rhythm to let his thick mushroom tip graze on your cervix,

"look at ya lovie, takin' my cock so well"

his other hand moves down to pinch and twist your sensitive nipples while he continues to pound you, your mouth hangs open in a silent scream of pleasure. your eyes blur with tears as you struggled to breathe from his large tatted hand that is clasped around your throat like a collar.

"s-simon c-can't! 's t-too much"

"c'mon swee'heart, ya can take it now be good f'me"

His rugged face broke into a smug smirk as he sped up, his hand abandon your abused nipples and travel down to your swollen puffy nub, pulling on it playfully as your hips buck into him. Your walls clamp down on his fat cock, gripping it like a vice as your orgasm rips through you.He grunts loudly, his jaw tightening as he bottoms out, his fat tip pushing against your womb as he releases a huge load in you

He grunts loudly, his jaw tightening as he bottoms out, his fat tip pushing against your womb as he releases a huge load in you.Still fucking you through your intense orgasm, he collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily. Simon licks the trail of sweat that was running down your neck slowly, whispering into your ear,

"feel my cum inside you, dovie? Hm?"

He slowly releases your throat, feeling your sensitive walls flutter around his still hard cock. He pulls out of you and watches as his hot load leaks through your spent cunt, feeling immensely proud. You watch in confusion as he repositions himself on top of your face,

"s-si? wha-?"

"Shh lovie, jus' be a good girl and open yer mouth"

He puts his knees on either side of your face and lightly settles on your chest making sure not to crush his precious girl. You obeyed, nails digging in his thick trunk like thighs as he grips the base of his cock and lightly slaps it on your lips.

Without a warning he forces his thick length down your throat making you gag and choke as he fucks your mouth harder, not slowing down even as you cough and sputter around his thickness. Saliva slobbering everywhere as you take every inch of his fat cock.

"that's it babygirl take it all, yer doing so good"

You sucked hard on him, lips parting wide because of his dick as he groans, bottoming out feeling your throat while holding you down by your hair as he releases and insanely huge amount of his hot load down your throat.

"fuckk, good girl swee'heart! being such a good lil slut f'me"

You gulped down his cum while some dripped down from inbetween your lips, he chuckled and leaned down licking his cum from your pretty face. He let out a breathless chuckle, watching your teary eyes and tired expression.

"we're jus' gettin' started dovie"

@sidollie

[luvbabydoll]

JEWISH!RAFE X JEWISH!READER AU ♡

Set in the heart of Manhattan’s Upper East Side, this AU follows a wealthy, married Jewish couple: Rafe Cameron, a polished finance bro turned family man, and his glamorous, emotionally dramatic wife—your classic Jewish American Princess. She lives in designer loungewear, cries at the mere thought of her kids being out of town, and has a personal shopper on speed dial. Rafe? He plays along with her tears and tantrums—just long enough to get her home and ruin her blowout in their penthouse bedroom.

They live in a world of Shabbat dinners catered by private chefs, facials at Joanna Czech, and matching Fendi for the whole family. But beneath the soft cashmere and Van Cleef bracelets is a marriage full of heat, tension, and deeply rooted love—spoiled, sarcastic, and horny in equal measure.

Every summer, their kids head off to elite Jewish sleepaway camp (complete with wifi and gluten-free options), leaving the couple to rekindle their spark through brunches, facetime meltdowns, and lots—and lots—of sex.

POSTS ON THIS AU ♡

coming soon!

[luvbabydoll]

hi whoever sent me the request about the gym and perv!simon can u send it again cause it won’t let me answer it for some reason !!!!!!

[luvbabydoll]

IMAGINING HER GIVING HIM HEAD AND GETTING HER STRAWBERRY LIP GLOSS ALL OVER HIM AND HE CUMS SO FAST AND SHE DOESNT LAUGH OR MAKE FUN OF HIM SHE JUST KISSES HIM AND TELLS HIM HE DID SO GOOD AND HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO- AHHH

nerd!rafe getting head !

warnings: nsfw!! head (male receiving) sub rafe, he cums fast and is embarrassed

divider credits @bernardsbendystraws

wc: 347 — a/n: i’m so used to writing dom rafe

rafe’s sitting there, glasses fogged up and slipping down his nose, hands gripping the edge of his desk like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he’s a mess already—cheeks flushed, breathing all uneven—and you’ve barely even started. you’re on your knees, that strawberry lip gloss shining on your lips, and when you lean in, he freezes like he’s short-circuiting. “you—uh—you don’t have to—” he stammers, but the words die fast when your mouth wraps around him.

it’s sloppy, it’s sweet—literally, that gloss smearing pink and sticky all over him, glistening in the dim light of his room. he’s trying so hard to keep it together, but you can feel him twitching, hear the little choked noises he’s making. his hands hover like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed, so you grab one, press it to the back of your head, and he just loses it. thirty seconds in—tops—he’s gasping, “oh shit, i—i can’t—” and then he’s gone, spilling hard and fast, hips jerking like he’s never felt anything this good.

you pull back, lips slick and glossy, a little strawberry sheen left behind on him, and he’s staring down at you, mortified. his face is beet red, glasses crooked, and he’s already mumbling apologies—“i didn’t mean to, it’s just—god, i’m such a—” but you don’t let him finish. you climb up, straddling his lap, and kiss him deep, letting him taste the strawberry on your tongue. “you did so good, rafe,” you murmur against his mouth, soft and sincere, fingers threading through his messy hair.

he’s stunned, blinking at you like he can’t compute it—no teasing, no judgment, just you smiling all warm and pretty. his hands finally settle on your waist, tentative, like he’s testing if this is real. “i… uh… really?” he manages, voice small, and you nod, kissing his cheek, his jaw, leaving little glossy marks behind. he’s still reeling, doesn’t know what to do with himself, but that shy, dazed little smile creeping onto his face? that’s all you need to know that your his.

[luvbabydoll]

Price, Soap, and the Missus

Inspired by @goatgoesmbe ‘s idea…

Johnny MacTavish was a straightforward man.

He enjoyed looking at pretty things, plain and simple.

So, naturally, when a sweet, confused little thing in a sundress with a bow in her hair, for God’s sake, approached the base entrance whilst he was on lookout duty — well, you couldn’t blame him for wanting to have some fun. Turn up the charm, if you will.

Maybe he asked you a few more questions than necessary just to hear your soft voice and feed his ego, and maybe he demanded to ‘pat you down’ — just because it was all protocol, of course. He was such a good soldier, and he took that job seriously. As such, he had to ensure that he had patted down every part of you; every bit of your smooth, warm skin got bruised by his rough hands as he prodded and gripped you unapologetically.

And once he was done (which wasn’t for a while), leaving you stammering and flushing but too shy to say anything, he went straight back to charming the pants off of you. Or, at least, that’s what he thought he was going back to.

“So, what business has someone like you got here, hmm?” Johnny purred, accent rolling off of his tongue smoothly, head cocking to the side and he stared down at you with a devious smirk.

“Just… dropping off my husband’s lunch,” you replied quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. Your ears remained bright pink.

Johnny immediately froze.

He hadn’t expected that.

You were married? Dear God. Just his luck. All he could hope was that your husband was in a unit far away from him so that any comments you made about his ‘inspection’ would hopefully go unpunished.

He’d messed up, bad.

“Husband, eh?” He hedged, trying desperately to mask the waver in his voice. “And who would that lucky lad be?”

You hesitated, finally meeting his eye sheepishly, a little more confident as you took in his obvious falter. “Am I allowed to tell you his name?”

Johnny almost melted, staring at your big, blinking eyes — his previous concerns momentarily almost completely wiped out. You were so sweet. So innocent.

Someone was one lucky bastard.

“Well, considering this is our base, you should be fine,” he joked.

“O-okay. I was just checking, because he gets nervous about that kind of stuff, considering… everything.” You inhaled. “He’s… John Price. Do you know him? Or where he might be right now? The lunch is getting cold…”

Steaming bloody Jesus. Johnny felt he was about to pass out. He felt numb. “The… the captain?” He croaked. “He’s your husband?”

“Is that a problem?” You asked nervously.

“I don’t know…” a sudden, familiar voice rumbled. “Is that a problem, MacTavish?”

You turned delightedly to find your husband right there, glaring at the man in front of you but looking deliciously handsome as always, and leapt to give him a hug.

Dear God.

Johnny just about turned on his heel and fled.

He never told the rest of the squad how he got a broken nose that night. Partially out of embarrassment, but also because he felt he deserved it.

And from then on, he never dared to even utter a word to any unknown women coming into base.

[luvbabydoll]

cant stop thinking about John Price with his cutie pie full time sub 😩😩

YESSS!!! an we make her his housewife and he loves coming home from deployment to her in a cute girly apron and sundress

[luvbabydoll]

I just started reading your stories and I am SOOO enchanted. They perfectly encapsulate everything I love. It’s so nice to finally read stories where the MC acts like me.I was wondering if it’s alright if I made a request if not that’s totally okay! With Konig,Ghost, Keegan or Soap (those are my favs 🤭). I love stories with a bit of CNC,being tied up, praise/Degradation,marriage and I have fallen in LOVE with you bunny & Puppy thing. Do with all that what you will, your the professional here. Thank you so so much XXX I love your works!!

thank you so much!!! i’m glad you enjoy my stuff! i tried a bit with the accents so hopefully it’s not too bad!

könig

you’re on your knees in front of him, the weight of the restraints pulling at your wrists as he towers above you, his mask only adding to the intensity of his presence. his voice rumbles low, thick with his accent.

"such a good little bunny for me," he murmurs, his voice deep and commanding as his finger traces down your cheek. "tied up like this... i could do whatever i want with you. and you vould let me, wouldn’t you?" his tone is teasing, yet full of authority, like he owns every part of you.

"you’ve been so patient, so obedient." his hands tighten the ropes, a small smirk hidden behind his mask. "i love seeing you like this, helpless yet eager. you won’t disappoint me now, will you?" his grip pulls at the ropes, making you squirm. the praise is soothing, but the undertone of dominance leaves you aching for more. you are nothing but his, a mere plaything to be molded at his will.

simon “ghost” riley

you feel his hands on your hips, holding you firmly as you're bent over the edge of the bed. the tight restraints on your wrists leave you helpless as his breath brushes against your ear.

"little bunny," he sneers softly, the deep rumble of his accent sending a shiver down your spine. "you’re so fuckin’ eager to please, aren’t you?" his words drip with both praise and mockery, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. "but look at you now... all tied up, waitin’ for me to take what i want. you know what you are, don’t you?"

he pulls your head back, his fingers gripping your hair harshly. "you’ll learn your place soon enough. learn what it means to be mine." his voice is thick with possession, and you know there’s no escape from his dominance.

keegan p. russ

"you’ve been so good, puppy," keegan growls, his voice dark and dripping with authority as he watches you squirm, tied up and helpless. his hands are rough, tugging you into position so you’re even more exposed to him. his voice is low and demanding.

"such a good little thing for me," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your neck before pulling back. "i could keep you like this forever... tied up, always ready for me." his grip on your wrists tightens, reminding you that you belong to him.

"you’re mine, to do with as i please," he says, his voice commanding and possessive. he smacks your ass hard, causing you to flinch and moan. "and you’re gonna be a good puppy, aren’t you?" his voice deepens with a growl, pushing you further into submission.

johnny “soap” mactavish

you’re sitting on his lap, tied up with your back against his chest. soap’s hands are rough as he plays with the ropes around your wrists, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers in his thick scottish accent.

"look at ye, all tied up like a wee puppy," he teases, his fingers tapping your chin, making you look up at him. "yer so damn cute when yer helpless, ye know that?" his words are a mix of affection and playful degradation, his voice deep and rich with a sense of possessiveness.

"yer mine, always. but don’t think yer off the hook, little puppy." his fingers stroke your cheek gently before trailing down to your neck, tightening slightly as he pulls you closer. "ye’re gonna learn what it means to be mine, aye?" his voice grows darker with a mischievous grin. "i’ll make sure o’ that."

[luvbabydoll]

The first time Graves used “all y’all” in front of the Brits, they had to physically restrain themselves from shaking him like a ragdoll.

...

“Now, all y’all just calm down a minute--”

A beat of silence.

Price blinked. Soap tilted his head like a confused retriever. Gaz mouthed ‘all y’all?�� like it was a slur.

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?” Soap asked.

...

Graves, undeterred:

“Y’all’d’ve done better if you’d waited for backup.”

Gaz made a noise like a computer shutting down.

“I’m sorry... y’all would’ve what?”

Graves: “Would’ve done better.”

Price, flat: “That’s not what you said.”

“I was fixin’ to explain!”

“Fixing what now?”

...

While reviewing blueprints:

“Might coulda added another entry point here.”

Soap stood up. “This is an act o' terrorism."

[luvbabydoll]

simon riley x john price x f!reader prev

tags: d/s (dom john, switch simon, sub reader); smut; binding and gag; hinted daddy kink; objectification kink; authority kink (& issues)

The yawning used to escape him, trickling into streams unchecked. That is then; it is an estuary now. It is something delicate. Vulnerable. Simon wonders when did his desires become visible and rippling. When did they form tendrils swimming past the noose he’s got on them?

Terrifying. Simon's desires are terrifying. He cannot map the exact moment that they began, just that they did, and now he finds himself crumbling at the slightest look. At the barest of touch.

Simon wants his captain. 

He dreams of John. He dreams of how he will take the older man with hot lips and scalding prayers. He dreams of a pleasure so great, it leaves his captain shaking. Stuttering with quiet tears and swollen lips tugged up in a satisfied grin.

“C’mere, boy,” his captain—this version of him that plagues Simon’s dreams—says, all soft and sweet and coy in that way that will leave Simon’s throat aching like it is clogged with caramel and taffy, and he falls to his captain with a whimper.

He strips his cock with his rough hands when he wakes up, teeth biting into the flesh of his lips to muffle his moans. He thinks of the slope of his captain’s neck, the bend of it when he drops his head when he is exhausted. He thinks of his captain’s beard, how it felt on his skin in the burst of moments when the older man would turn to brush close to Simon in whispered conversations. He thinks of the soot on his captain’s boots; he thinks how he will not care—he will lick it clean if John asks.

Cum sprays in his hands, shooting across his stomach to land on his chest. Simon groans, his eyes shut close as he savours the moment. He waits for the shame to lick past the desire, for clarity to wash away the hunger, but his need grows.

It settles.

Ah, Simon thinks, peeling his eyes open. That’s how it’d be.

There is something different in Johnny’s gait, and Simon stalks close like an apex predator stalking the wounded prey. He expected shame or even denial from his friend, but what he sees instead blinds him with envy.

Johnny’s been claimed; he’s been moulded into Kyle and his darling girl’s doll. In a moment of weakness, he unleashes his jealousy and bares his teeth to the mutt. 

When his captain finds him, he takes one look at Simon and laughs. It is loud and booming, the kind that rumples the corners of his chest, and he is struck; frozen in time like he is young once more, wilting under his—

Under his father’s gaze.

“Ye’ jealous boy,” John says, his grin too sharp to be a friendly tease, then he leaves.

Simon watches him go with his lips pursed.

Something changes within his captain, after that. He is always stalking close, always a breath away. His eyes are sharp and knowing, heavy as they trace over Simon’s body. For his part, Simon doesn’t try to shake him off, rather, he basks in the attention. 

It is not warm or fluffy. It is burning, almost accusing, but Simon takes what he can get and this is his for however long his captain wants him. 

It is Kyle, greedy man that he is, who breaks the facade. 

“He’s testin’ you, LT,” the younger man says, bringing the flickering fire of his lighter to Simon’s stick. Simon doesn’t reply but he turns, head jutted to hear Kyle better. He meets Simon’s eyes head-on.

“He’s got a bird,” Kyle begins, the admission coming out so smoothly from him like it is some sort of retribution. Simon supposes it is—he did taunt his puppy, after all. “Cap’n’s about to leave ‘er for a mission, an’ I think that he wants to leave ‘er to you.” 

Smoke leaves Simon’s lips in stuttered wisps. Kyle shoots him a crinkled smile. “He’s not doin’ that—” the weighted attention, the obsessive hovering, “f’r you, sir.”

Simon doesn’t give him a reply. He knows that it is nothing but an attempt at hiding. 

When Kyle leaves, Simon begins his hunt.

Names, relationships, places last visited—Simon finds them with ease, bypassing encrypted and locked accounts as he sinks his teeth further into the tender acres of his captain’s secret. A bird, one that Kyle knows of before Simon could. 

He doesn’t know what to name the taste lingering in the back of his tongue but it makes him angrier. Greedier. 

He realizes he’s found her when he sees you. 

And, oh. The ease, the way each code that he tried had worked—his captain wanted him to find you. Shivers rack his body, making him twitch and his mind grows heady because he takes this for what it is.

A reward. 

Or, better yet, his invitation. 

John introduces the two of you, waxing poetry about Simon, promising you that he will be kind. That he will be here to protect you. And you laugh through it all, bright and bubbly, thanking your boyfriend’s colleague for volunteering to help. Neither John nor Simon corrected your assumptions.

Boyfriend. 

It is such a juvenile term but John had looked so proud, his chest puffing up and his lips wobbling as you bulldozed through your words, fluttering about how you didn’t need protection, bee-tee-dubs. Simon watches as John pulls you into his arms, whispering in such a soft voice that Simon feels—

Stilted. 

This isn’t the John that he knew. 

This isn’t the John that he wanted. 

The jealousy that threatened to burst in his veins petered into a soft ripple, calming down at the sight before him. Because you can have this John, the one that is too soft and too gentle and too human, but Simon has the one he wants. 

The one hardened by the war; the one who smells of cigars and soot and ozone; the one who barks out orders; the one whose gaze is hard, sharp, edged like every narrowed gaze is a slashing. Simon has the John that matters. 

Simon wilts into himself then, distancing himself from the two of you. The domesticity, the cozy flat, the lined books and art-nouveau-style mirrors and bookshelves—yes, you can have this. Simon isn’t envious of this. 

Before he leaves, John turns to Simon, his warm hand cupping Simon’s jaw. Warm eyes stare at him. “Well, then. Take care of y’rself too, ‘kay?”

He asks like he did not just strip the layers of reassurances that Simon cloaked himself in, leaving him bare and vulnerable before John’s callused touch. He is too startled to reply, and John finally makes himself scarce, leaving two yearning souls waiting for his return.

Simon didn’t intend to overstep beyond the morning check-ins and the nightly tuck-ins, but routine takes root and he finds himself unwinding in the little corner of your flat. 

It isn’t too difficult—you are a warm host. You know not to ask much or to speak too loud, and Simon wonders how much of this is learned behaviour. Is this John in your form; is it his captain teaching you how to live with someone so torn and so broken that Simon is seeing so much of it in the way you look at him, the way you talk to him?

But it’s too much. Like muscle memory or something natural like breathing. It is like a reflex; your kindness just is. It gives him comfort, how your sweetness is innate. 

It’s two in the morning when he understands why his captain keeps you. 

He hears it by accident; murmured conversations slip through the crack of your door. Simon was just about to close it when John’s voice pierced through the static. 

“Simon treatin’ you well, baby?”

A moan drips from your side, and Simon startles at the following squelch. 

“He—hnn—he is, daddy,” you pant out, sniffling. The bed creaks, the sheets rustling. “I want the two o’you.”

“Shh,” John consoles, all faux worry. “Soon, baby. Be good f’r him, okay?”

Simon doesn’t bother hearing whatever you said next, choosing instead to march back in his room. He drops to the mattress, head falling to his hands. He breathes in, trying to will off the fever, but John’s voice rings in his head, then your quiet mewls, and Simon knows that it is futile now. 

Hunger thrums, it builds. 

His cock is in his hands in the next breath. 

Simon looks into your eyes, trying to see how you could have hidden your desire for him; trying to map out how you managed to lock it up so that he wouldn’t notice. But your furrowed gaze and your confused smile shows him something that is fascinating—you are a fraud. 

You’re not sweet. Well, you are, but not in that wide-eyed way that you and John showed Simon the first day thathe introduced you to him; not in that curling innocence that you shrouded yourself in. You are not John’s shielded bird nor his pampered dove. 

No. 

You have been playing John’s game; your cards are just as hidden, if not sharpened, and your dice are edged. You were cheating, creating all this miasma to reel Simon in. The river to his estuary. 

Cunning girl. 

“Si?”

But Kyle already sent him a curt message: Captain’s back. And Simon knows enough of the game to play it. 

“C’mere,” he grunts and pulls you close. Your squeak is devoured by his lips, and something hums in his chest like he’s finally at the precipice of being full. 

That is how John finds the two of you—you, bound and gagged and spread open in Simon’s room; your cunt is all bruised and leaking and stuffed with a toy; and Simon, smoking close to the window, his ass perched on the windowsill, watching. Waiting. 

John laughs and it is so mean. The howling in Simon’s head screeches to a halt because finally. Finally, he has his captain back. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” John croons as he steps close to you. Your teary eyes gaze up at him, begging, but Simon watches as all that John does is trace his knuckles along your splotchy cheek. “Y’haven’t been good, have y’?”

Your reply is nothing but a muffled complaint. John clicks his tongue. Simon straightens up, back going taut, his cock hardening in his briefs. 

“Stop complaining,” John tuts, flicking at your nipples, making you howl. Gone is his softness, replaced, instead, with someone overpowering. 

Oh. Simon thinks that he is falling in love again. 

John makes Simon fuck you, and it is all parts delicious, and good, and painful. 

Simon’s not allowed to cum—not in you, not on your thighs, or even in his own hands. John forbids it. And Simon knows better than to fool his captain; not only is he stalking close, with a lit cigar propped in his lips and his wandering hands pawing at your heaving chest or cupping Simon’s jaw, but he dictates everything. 

He tells Simon when to pull out, gruff voice barking out orders once again, before reaching over to clamp his hand shut around the length of Simon’s cock like his captain cannot trust him to not cum. Simon feels the stirrings in his gut, pushing and cornering him, and he feels small when his captain uses him this way. 

John’s thumb brushes over his slit and he hisses in his oversensitivity, making his hips twitch. John clamps his hand tighter in warning, a warning growl ripping from his captain’s chest, and Simon stutters out his sorry’s. He doesn’t mean a single one; he doesn’t even want John to loosen his hold because Simon loves it like this. Painful. Humiliating. Him, being reduced to a twitching mess. 

“Look at him, baby,” John murmurs, his voice lilting to a spark of softness, the first of the night. Simon’s eyes fall on you at his captain’s words, and his chest seizes at the teary mess that you make. 

You have been beautiful in your measured sweetness, but like this, sobbing and begging and at their—because John still allows Simon to ruin you—mercy, Simon knows that you have never looked more beautiful. Is this why John is addicted? 

John’s other hand pushes your hair away from your sweaty face. “Isn’t he pretty?”

All you can do is gurgle something behind the gag in your mouth. You’re not even looking at Simon, drawn to the only person in the room who’s still in his clothes, another layer of John’s total control. You are studying John, arching towards his caresses like it didn’t matter how Simon truly looked, you were just giving out a reply for John’s pleasure. 

Simon gets it, he does, because you are just like him, after all. 

He finally cums in John’s hands. He cums to the scene you make, rutting your pussy so desperately on his captain’s face, smothering him with your slick and your folds. John takes it like a fucking champ, his tongue working overtime before sucking at your slit like he will die of thirst if he doesn’t swallow your juices. 

It’s so debauched that all John had to do was pump his hands on Simon’s cock twice before he’s spraying his spunk all over his captain. 

He’ll burn this image in his mind. Fuck. Where’s his phone when he needs it?

“Good?” John asks, gliding his fingertips along the expanse of Simon’s arm. 

Simon grunts, trying his best to stay quiet with you sleeping between them. John huffs a pleased laugh and ducks down to press his lips on the top of your head. 

You grumble, twisting, before cuddling up to Simon. 

“She’s clingy,” he grumbles like he isn’t pulling you closer to him too. 

John fondly rolls his eyes at him before turning to shut the lamp off.

J Mactavish: hypocrite

note: god this didn’t come out the way i wanted but if you stuck until the end, thank you so so much <33

[luvbabydoll]

[luvbabydoll]

john price dating a girl who has a job, very independent, the whole girlboss thing. he’ll humor it out, make light jabs at your so called “jobs” but once that six month mark comes around he’s fucking you full on nelson and murmuring “don’t need any job besides lookin’ pretty underneath me”

[luvbabydoll]

this is in the "141 and john price's wife" universe. still gn pronouns. i also don't think price texts that much- old man syndrome.

the 141 absolutely have a group chat dedicated to pictures and information (porn) about their little wife.

it starts, as many silly things do, with johnny and a picture of you asleep on the couch. cuddled into the armrest covered in the tortilla blanket he'd gotten you as a gag gift, and it was just too good not to share. (although he only sent one of the thirty he actually took, he's gotta keep as much of you to himself as he can.)

then it was kyle with you in the yard, laying in the grass after cutting down branches in the sweltering heat (something john would never let you do if he'd know about it, but he appreciates the flush of your cheeks and the angle of the photo makes it seem as if you were under him doing another strenuous activity.)

and it continues like that for months, cute little pictures of you gardening with price, walking with simon, watching tv between kyle and johnny- just sharing the daily life of their pretty bird.

but the real nature of the group chat doesn’t start until simon sends a picture of you bent over, putting something in the oven, in the tiny, red daisy duke shorts that are only just long enough to be considered inappropriate for the public.

sr: fuckin' lucky that shit only takes 10 minutes to cook or we'd be in the kitchen all day.

soap: fuuuuuuuuckin' hell

kyle: don't rub it in simon, we'll be home in two days

sr: don't worry, i'll warm 'em up for you

price: Behave yourselves.

and it all just unravels from there.

John's the next culprit. he has loads and loads of less than decent pictures of you, perks of being the first husband, but he's not reaching into the stash for this one. he has a point to make: if anyone's getting off to pictures of his wife, he's gonna be the one sending them.

it's barely two hours after the other three left that something is sent into the chat. face down, ass up, cunt dripping with cum as price uses his thumb to keep your pussy open to the camera, the rest of his hand palm down on your ass, the ring on his finger glistening in the flash.

sr: fuckin' filthy captain

soap: BRING ME BACK, PUT ME IN CAPTAIN

kyle: tell 'em i said thank you

it's not surprising that the minute he comes back, johnny's on you. methodically placing the camera, making sure it captures all of you and his face buried between your thighs. it wasn't the first video sent into the chat but it's definitely one of the best ones.

your head thrown back, hands in his hair, gripping what you can so you can grind your pussy on his tongue. his phone is just close enough to hear your small pants and groans as he sucks on your swollen clit.

soap: i could spend the rest of my life right there

sr: you let 'em fuck yer face like that?

soap: lt i'd let 'em gag me

soap: then step on my dick

soap: then leave me on the floor to rot

*kyle, price, and sr disliked three messages*

soap: like you fuckers wouldn't

and kyle is not a man to be left out, but he is also not as keen on sharing his private time with you as johnny is. so there aren't videos coming from him, instead he has 4k close ups of your tits after he spent almost an hour sucking hickeys into every part of your chest he could reach.

and kyle is like an artist, he makes sure your hair is splayed out perfectly, and that you're just fucked out enough to give him a bright smile. ha also makes sure that the locket they gave you, the one that's has their names engraved on the inside, sits perfectly above the swell of your boobs. and goddamn is he proud of his pictures. (it's not hard for you to look pretty in pictures because you're already pretty but kyle thinks he's the best at actually capturing it).

soap: another two things i would put my face between until i suffocate

*sr, price, and kyle disliked a message*

soap: go fuck urselves

and simon is just mean, fingers peaking under your panties, finding your clit just to sit there, finger pressed on your bud, only moving for a few seconds before falling still again; his other hand hold your hips down so you can't do anything but wait for him to move again. and he does it the entire length of the manchester game until your panties are completely soaked through.

soap: stone cold, lt. stone cold.

but before he can do anything, he has to take his picture so the other fools can remember what a whore you are for him. and because it's between games he'll let you sit on his dick and grind into him during commercial breaks. maybe he'll even film in and send it to the guys, let them see you drip all over his lap whole stretching to fit him in your cunt.

but whether his team loses or wins, he'll flip you over and fuck you into the couch cushions, so at least you get that!

then they're all away on a mission, and you know about their little chat (it's hard not to when suddenly they have a camera out every time you're in their vicinity.) so you take it upon yourself to give them their fix. and why not play around with them well you're ar it?

it starts when you go shopping merely three days after they left. they tear up your bras and underwear so obviously you would need to buy more eventually. but usually when you go shopping one of them is with you to share their opinions, but since they're away, you just have to send pictures instead!

a whole catalog, in facts. you've got angles, dressing room lighting, and a whole lot of time on your hands.

*you sent 22 photos to 'the bird house'*

you: i can't choose :(((

you: help me out?

kyle: give me 6 hours to fly home and i'll help you with anything

price: Looks great. But I can't tell from the pictures, you'll have to try them all on again when I get home.

soap: licking the screen isn't working, captain i think i need to go home.

*sr saved 22 photos to Camera Roll*

kyle: smooth riley, real smooth.

and of course it doesn't end there. you have a chance to torture them a little bit with zero consequences and you're going to take it.

but it takes a while for you to send videos, usually you send  your outfits, or the tiny bathing suit top you wear while tanning, even one of you in the kitchen in nothing but your tiny apron. (it's the only one that john does not appreciate, popping a boner between briefings as a captain is not hie proudest moment.)

but as the months go longer and longer, you get more and more desperate. your toys are reserved for times like this, a small bullet vibrator and a thick 8-inch dildo. it's nowhere near as nice as fucking your men but it'll have to do for the time being.

and you know them being away is not their fault and they'd be home in an instant if they could choose to be; but if you have to deal with your pent-upness, so do they.

so you set up your phone, leaning it on the lamp that sits on your bedside table, so it captures your entire body, covered only by sheer light-blue lingerie and your locket, as you sink down the length of your dildo, vibrator pressed to your clit. you send four different videos, one for each of them, in the order they came into your life (you think it's cute, they're one picture away from firebombing the whole country they're in and flying home).

you: just something to hold you over until you get back!

kyle: so good for us babe.

soap: yer evil bonnie.

soap: my arm can't keep up with this

sr: birdie thinks it's real funny now

you: i do

sr: not gonna be so funny when we get home, yeah? might have to give you a refresher about what happens teasing birds.

price: 6:30am tomorrow, get everything you need in order because you aren't moving for the foreseeable future.

*you loved a message*

[luvbabydoll]

hihiii, was wondering if you could write Simon Riley with a hyper fem gf who is just so cute and soft and sweet, he can’t help but share her with Johnny? (Bonus points if she has lots of stretch marks pretty please?)

you’re curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, flipping through a fashion magazine. simon stands in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching you with a small, fond smile.

you flip to another page, showing him the next ridiculous thing, but he can’t help but watch you. the soft glow of the room makes you look even more delicate, your skin so smooth. his hand instinctively reaches for you, brushing your arm.

you lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, “m’happy you’re home, si."

he tightens his arm around you, the roughness of his hand contrasting with the softness of your skin. "yeah?"

you smile, pulling the blanket closer around you, and as you shift, your shirt rides up, exposing the stretch marks on your stomach. simon’s eyes flicker to them before looking back at you.

"you're perfect, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft. "every part of you."

you smile shyly, a little unsure. "but… the stretch marks?”

he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. "they’re part of you, love. and they’re beautiful."

you giggle, warmth flooding through your chest. "you really think so?"

"i know so," he says, his tone sincere, brushing his hand gently over your skin, tracing the marks.

[luvbabydoll]

hi guys my requests are open so please feel free to send me some requests or thought’s!!!!

[luvbabydoll]

mechanic!simon riley headcanons

mechanic!simon riley who swore he fell in love with you the minute you walked in the shop, your eyes wide but your expression serious. his usual customers are on the older side and always men who are too insufficient to fix a car on their own, so you were the perfect change of pace.

mechanic!simon riley who knew as a woman you were highly likely to get ripped off by other mechanics, so he was glad you came to his shop. he makes sure to offer you water and some light snacks. he doesn't do that with his other customers, but you're an exception.

mechanic!simon riley who thought it was hot when you got straight to the point before he could even introduce himself. you already diagnosed your car before you came because like simon, you knew how you could get scammed in repair shops. you nodded when he asked if you knew a lot about cars and he replied with, "a woman after my own heart."

mechanic!simon riley who is already wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, but rolls up the sleeves to his shoulders so you could get a view of just how huge his biceps were. it doesn't help your temptation when you see that his tattoo sleeve in fact does continue up until his shoulder.

mechanic!simon riley who on purpose makes sure his t-shirt lifts a little bit higher than usual while he's working on your undercarriage. he's lying down under the car, and makes sure to extend his arms higher so he can tease the gorgeous combination that is his happy trail, abs, and v-line to you.

mechanic!simon riley who drains the oil in your car on purpose while he's working on it just enough so that you have to come back a second time and so that he has an excuse to see your gorgeous self again.

mechanic!simon riley who doesn't let you pay for any of the repairs you needed. he reasoned with you saying you had enough trouble driving the car to the shop as it was, and doesn't want to add on to it.

(idk)

[luvbabydoll]

husband simon who after an argument apologizes with a bouquet of flowers and his dick 🙇‍♂️

[luvbabydoll]

hi guys my requests are open so please feel free to send me some requests or thought’s!!!!