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High end restaurant AU, anyone….?

Price is the proprietor, of course— keeps things smooth, sweet, and in control. Always ready to meet new guests and keeps himself familiar with all of the clientele. And he’s gone and done the one thing he promised himself he’d never do— he’s stuck on a waitress. You’re new blood here, having mainly worked cafes and a couple of chains before— and you do what every new blood does. You make mistakes. And of course, occasionally the kind of people they serve bring their entitlement with them when they go out to dinner. John is more than happy to come over when he hears a complaint, and more than happy to take over serving one of your tables if you need to have a drink and sit down after receiving some less than kind comments. He’s also happy to quietly urge those people to find somewhere else to eat next time they feel like biting the hand that feeds them.

Simon is the head chef. Could he be anyone else? Constantly on edge, exhausted, and ruling the kitchen with an iron fist. Outside of the kitchen you’d be hard pressed to find him without a cigarette— but the kitchen is his temple. And you’re the newest devotee— fresh from culinary school, which at first he resents. He didn’t get to have a fancy education— he worked for this, long and hard years, his love for the art carried him. But then he sees himself in you. The love of it. Of making meals and feeding people. The way you won’t hesitate to stop a dish as it’s going out the door just to perfect it in a way you’d almost missed. The way you refuse to serve what isn’t up to your standards— you bow to his authority, but you can be hardheaded too. You’re perfectly alright to make people wait if that’s what the dish requires. Everyone knows he’s down bad when he lets you use his £400 knife that’s literally just for deboning fish.

Gaz is the head of waitstaff. Who else could Price trust as his eyes and ears on the customer base? He grooms himself impeccably and you’ll be asking to hear about the specials again just to listen to him talk. His relationship to you is a tragic one. When he sees you walk through the doors, it means one thing: your husband is making an apology. You sit at your same seat, at the same table, while the man uses a fancy dinner as a get-out-of-jail card for every time he lets you down. Sometimes he’ll even do one in advance— like when he was leaving for a two month business trip the next morning and hadn’t bothered to tell you yet— and he’d be missing your anniversary. Kyle is always your server, as you always request. So yes, he gets a front row seat to the sadness behind your eyes as you open another velvet box with sapphire earrings, smiling in an attempt to be kind and understanding to a man who doesn’t deserve it. Does he think about knocking your husband’s lights out and sweeping you off your feet? Every time.

Soap is a simple man. By that I mean he knows how to make steak tartare but he doesn’t have a bed frame. And he is in love with the hostess. Is he supposed to go in and out of the kitchen’s back door when he wants to leave or come in? Yes. Does he go through the front and get scolded by Kyle just so you’ll say hi to him and smile? Of course. This motherfucker isn’t slick. He’s out here fixing your plate for you at family meal and making your favorite whenever it’s his turn to plan it. And whose business is it if he touches himself to the thought of you in the full room refrigerator? Strictly speaking, it’s health and safety’s business, so he doesn’t actually do that for fear of being flayed alive by Simon. But the employee bathroom is fair game!

Nikolai sources all of the 141’s ingredients, which causes him to be familiar with you before he even has a chance to meet you. While primarily a patissier, you’re also often given the task of designing presentation for menu items (Simon is a flavor-above-all-else kind of guy) and coming up with new dessert items. And you have some very creative ideas. He isn’t often on the premesis in person, so you don’t meet him until months into your career at the 141. The way you’re introduced, it clicks for him immediately. “So you’re the one that had me driving across the city for star anise and scrambling to find decent squash-blossoms at the ass-end of their season, pchelka?” And of course, he’s absolutely hooked when he sees how embarrassed and apologetic you are at the prospect of having caused him trouble. Maybe he’ll forgive you if you let him take you out? Have someone besides the both of you worry about the food for once.

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Price can always tell when your mind is being too loud, unable to sleep but oh so fucking tired.

And everytime, without fail, he hauls you into his car, wraps your favourite cozy blanket around you and leans your seat back. Usually all it takes is a few laps around the neighborhood, but on really rough nights price hits the highways and goes until he hears your soft snoring.

Hes careful when he parks back at home, carrying you into bed and snuggling up with you. Happy to see your restful face again.

[plethaid]

The brownies that inspired this

Fic btw

So yummy

[plethaid]

Hi!! A little blurb as a treat (for me)! I've never written anything besides headcannons so I hope it's good :>

John PricexGN!Reader

Cw: none, tooth rotting fluff <3

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Imagine, if you will, a reader who likes to bake on occasion (don't we all my guy), and since you've been craving chocolate recently, you make some brownies with such a frankly insane amount of chocolate that it probably qualifies as a health code violation. As soon as it comes out of the oven, John has it plated up with a fork and brings it to you, scooping you into his lap and giving the brownie to you. All snuggled up on his lap, blissing out as you eat a warm brownie and zone out as your comfort movie drones on in the background. Price rubbing big, comforting circles onto your back and occasionally commenting on something, whether it be about the movie or his day, his low rough voice rumbling through you. Putting you gently aside to put the now empty plate into the sink before coming back and cooing about how tired and cute you look.

Kk thats it ;-; i tried my best

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I’ve been thinking again about transitioning and your forcemasc with price and ghost ?? My brother in Christ where do I pay for MORE OF THAT

Ik alot of my forcemasc centers around tshots but PLEASE consider them dousing you in some good ol toxic masculinity <3

Ghost pulling you aside just so he can pull the waistband of your pants back and scoff at the frills he sees. shoving a still-gloved hand down them to grab at your tdick for emphasis. "Seriously kid? Panties? Yer not a fuckin' girl. Go get changed."

Or price holding his drink up to your lips, forcing you to hold the burn in your mouth because *real men drink whiskey so you better get used to the taste*. Of course he gives you just enough for your movements to slow down, mocking you as he shoves you against the desk. "Little boys who cant hold their liquor need to at least know how to take it when real men find them, dont you think?"

You have to attend some military ball, dressed up in the one fancy dress you own because you still look so feminine and- ghost scoffs when he sees you. Genuinely frowning and grabbing at the outfit "the fuck is this kid? We're going to a military ball, you know what people will say when they see a man walkin' around like this?"

Price peeks his head out from around the corner and frowns too, "im not letting one of my men dress like that. Here, I bought some proper clothes for you. Dont ever do that shit again, got it?"

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By the time Johnny is back with a key reader is such a cock hungry mess that she's basically begging to be passed around like a blunt for days 🤭

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Johnny returned he was expecting you to be right there waiting for him as he landed. He kept chubbing up in his pants on the flight back just thinking of how you would jump him. He was so excited. He had had it rough to, a month of just his hand. Probably not as rough as you had it though.

But only Ghost was there. Soap was actually disappointed.

Ghost put a large hand at the back of Johnny's neck as he approached. Guiding him in the direction of Price's barrack.

"Johnny. If you ever put me in one of those things, I will shoot you on the spot."

The Scot gulped. What the hell had happened to you while he was gone.

He was lead to Price's room, he could hear your loud whines from three doors away. Twitching excitedly in his pants knowing he was about to have you while you were so desperate you couldn't think. Just like him.

Opening the door he grinned. What a scene. Price had Gaz bent over the bed. Fucking him slow as he kissed you. You were uselessly humping a pillow. Tears rolling down your face in frustration.

Simon shoved Johnny forward gently.

"Unlock 'er. 'S been too long since I felt that warm cunt."

In a bit of a daze Johnny retrieved the key from his breast pocket. He had kept it close the whole op. Running his fingers along the edges every time he'd grip his cock in the middle of the night. You hadn't even noticed he was there yet. Your heartbeat loud in your ears as you chased pleasure that would never come.

Simon tugged your hair hard. Pulling you away from Kyle to get your attention.

"Sit still, kid. You want cock in you, don't you?"

It took a long moment before you nodded. Slogging through the heavy fog in your brain to come up with a single coherent thought.

Ghost situated himself on the bed and pulled you onto his lap as Johnny unlocked you. The second the belt was gone your hands were on your clit. Gasping with a full body shudder. Simon slapped your hands away and pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance. Giving your clit a hard smack before pushing inside you all in one go.

Your whole body seized as you came. Clenching down so hard on his cock Simon had to breathe slow to focus on not cumming immediately. Each fluttering pulse of your neglected cunt making him groan in your ear.

Your legs were boneless but you still tried to buck and grind against him, dragging out your orgasm until you were sobbing again.

"Si! Si please more! More moremoremore!"

He only laughed and started to fuck you. He had missed your pussy almost as much as you had missed him. Sure your mouth was fine, and watching you choke on his fat cock was one of his favourite hobbies. But the way your walls fluttered around him was unmatched.

Johnny was left to watch. Even Gaz and Price had paused for a moment to watch you writhe in pleasure.

Soap neared, reaching for your before Ghost grabbed his wrist.

"No. You're not gonna touch 'er till we're done. Then it's right back in the cage. You deprived us of that cunt for a whole month, don't think you're gettin' off easy."

You wished you had a camera to save the absolutely devastated look on Johnny's face. Barely able to grin up at him as Ghost made your head spin. After the first week of being locked up you knew you weren't letting Soap get even a taste of your pussy when he was back. He dug his own grave.

Once Simon had finished Price took over. Manhandling your limp body so you were on your back against the pillows. Three mean smacks to your clit had you spiraling into climax again. He slid in, fucking you deep and slow. Pulling all the way out every now and then to slap your cunt again. Gripping your thighs to stop you from shaking too much as your clawed at his shoulders, not even aware that your nails were digging into his flesh to the point he nearly bled.

Gaz had situated himself behind Johnny. Calmly playing with his cock. Watching it twitch when he trailed his fingers from base to tip. He was sensitive sure, but this wasn't enough. It didn't take long for him to start pleading Kyle to jerk him off properly.

"You heard the Lt. Next time maybe think about the rest of us before you be a fuckin' tease."

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Glass frog!reader who shows the guys your favourite party trick. Holding a flashlight to the small of your back, shirt lifted just enough to show off your stomach.

Soap nearly chokes when your muscles tense and your skin becomes fucking see-through. Your organs a bit transparent too, they can literally see the way your organs twitch and blood pumps through your veins. It's so cool, and all soap can think about is if he could see his dick inside of you through the skin.

Ghost, with less social inhabitantions than soap, asks bluntly "ye ever been fucked like that?"

And you?? Actually answer?? Laughing while you pull out your phone "tried it a few times but it freaks guys out, here I have a photo and-"

The photo is of you sitting on a bright blue dildo, generous in size and pressing against your walls in a way that the blue peeks through the translucent skin. It's absolutely sinful. All the guys can think about for the rest of the night is what they'd look like inside you. Maybe they could convince you to let them stuff you with cum. Holding a light up to see it inside you?

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The freak.

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Oouugh hyperfemme bunny reader my KRYPTONITE…. I keep thinking of expansions….. fellow rabbit Gaz who’s happy to hop along together politely but fucks like the energizer bunny, in and out like a machine and never stopping…… Mastiff König scared to hurt the delicate bunny but obsessed with her scent…… sitting in Price’s big warm lap while Simon rails Johnny for being so rude…

ohhhh you're onto something here... rabbit gaz may be it. lemme cook next part on the way

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Indirect kiss

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Sorry we really went from free the nipple, take back the night, slut walks, and ending gender/sex segregation in sports being fucking milquetoast feminism 101 concepts to fucking girl dinner and "I just worry about fairness if we let trans girls play against cis ones" and "it was right of that woman to call the cops on a black man for existing near here in public during the day time because men are all violent monsters" and "radical feminism isn't transphobic we just need to kill all men including trans ones those oppressive traitors" and I will legit never be able to be normal about it. What the FUCK happened. I'd say I wonder what the feminists of my youth would say about this but I'm one and lemme tell ya I want to throw up. Go fucking read bell hooks or do something else useful please because all of this learned helplessness, gender essentialism, and transphobia dressed up as feminism is actively holding us back.

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Simon loves being Price's demonstration dummy. He loves the aftermath even more.

cw: sexual content, a horny lieutenant, body worship, oral sex, anal sex.

"Start by securin' a grip on yer opponent's arm with one hand, and use the other hand t' grab their collar or shoulder. Carrier vest works well too."

Simon stood at his captain's side, his body relaxed as he prepared to go airborne in the name of practical demonstration. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't his favourite part of the week... well, that and what always followed.

He watched Price from beneath low lashes, drawing deep, slow breaths through the fabric of his mask, if only to keep his bloody heart from thumping through the wall of his chest in excitement. Price's hands warm and firm against his body even through the cotton of his shirt, and his skin tingled in their wake.

"Step t' the side and lower yer hips while bringin' yer opponent close to ya," Price said, his attention on the new recruits gathered around the mat. Simon didn't resist as his captain drew him close, but he did breathe him in; sweat, deodorant and cologne, a deep musk that gathered at the back of Simon's throat, made his mouth water. Simon wanted to shove his nose into his ruffled hair, underneath his arm, across the ruff of his chest, for that scent to soak through to his bones.

"Yer shoulder should be positioned under their armpit. As ya pull yer opponent forward an' down, rotate yer hips and shoulders into them. Use yer legs t' lift an' drive yer shoulder into their body. Big fuckers like this? You gotta use their weight," Price moved and Simon's feet left the floor, "against 'em."

Simon's back hit the mat, punching a grunt from his chest, and he felt the familiar thrill unfurl down his spine as Price's body crowded over him. He studied the dark v-shape of sweat in the front of his shirt, the glisten of wet up his throat that disappeared into the scruffy stubble of his beard. Fuck, Simon wanted to lick it off him.

"As yer man's thrown, maintain yer grip t' control his fall and prepare for a transition into a dominant position or submission. Grapple, choke. Don't pause t' catch yer breath," he explained, half sprawled over Simon's body, his thick chest pressed to Simon's, so close that Simon felt the vibrations of his voice against him. "Any questions?" There weren't any. "Good. Pair up. Technique over strength."

The squaddies grabbed a buddy and headed to the other mats, and Price looked down at his junior officer's face. "You bulkin'?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so. Had to put some welly behind that one," Price said, lopsided grin making Simon want to shove his tongue down his throat. Those blue eyes framed in scruff and laughter lines, the curves beneath his sloped collarbones, the effortless way he had thrown Simon's sizable bulk to the floor, his form perfect, the explosive power in his body exercised with trained precision; everything about him made Simon feral.

The captain rolled to his feet and Simon grabbed the arm he offered down. "Take the four over there. Positioning like that's gonna lead to somethin' tearin'."

"Rog."

Simon wandered over to correct the indicated trainees and Price observed another set. This latest batch were promising, but they were almost skittish in their desperation for approval. More likely to make mistakes and second guess themselves. They needed to relax into it, listen to their instinct over the noise in their head. Simon decided to break the ice with the next demonstration.

It was a simple manoeuvre that tended to be a whole lot of fun to finish the session; the ranger roll. Quick and snappy way to pluck someone from the field and leg it under fire. Price was a pro at it. Simon upped the difficulty by latching onto a nearby bench, locking his legs so that Price flailed on his back halfway through the roll, splayed over Simon's belly with an arm hooked under his knee.

"What the fu--?" Price glanced up, saw Simon's ploy and elbowed him in the gut in retaliation, smirking. "Ya bloody muppet." The recruits laughed, their stances noticeably relaxing as Simon shrugged apologetically. Ice broken. Price rolled to his feet and performed the move again. This time, he lifted Simon from the floor, and Simon draped over his shoulders with a soft, satisfied hum. Fuckin hell, he needed Price on his back, needed those strong thighs around his hips, needed to hear that gruff voice sex-rough, fucked raw.

Simon suffered through another twenty minutes of watching others perform pale imitations of Price, before the captain finally dismissed them to the showers, heading out of the gym to his room.

Simon stayed long enough to ensure no one lingered by the dumb bell rack before swapping out of his boxers and shorts to a pair of grey joggers; he wanted as little between him and his prize as possible. Hands shaking, he knocked at Price's door after pursuing him down the corridors, shouldering his way inside only when Price greeted him from behind it. "Feelin' impatient, Simon?"

Simon watched as Price stripped off, revealing damp curls of chest hair, the sweat-slick curves and slopes of his body, still pumped from exercise, thick and flushed. His mane of brown scruff was ruffled out of place, sticking up in all directions, begging for fingers to grab it, to tug until he was forced to show his throat.

Simon's cock thickened in his joggers, pressing out against the soft grey material, and he folded his mask up above his nose in anticipation. Price chucked his t-shirt onto the floor, standing there in his shorts and nothing else, built like a fuckin greek hero and begging to be defiled, blue eyes dark. "C'mon then, boy. Come get it."

Simon didn't need telling twice. He growled low in his chest and surged forward, barreling Price into his bed, his mouth pressing to his throat as he ground his hip forward between Price's thighs. "Mmf, fuck, yeah," Price moaned, fingernails snagging in Simon's t-shirt as he bucked eagerly.

Price arched, his body begging for worship even if his voice stayed stoic, understated. For now. Simon buried a hand in his hair and pulled his head back, sucking and laving biting kisses down the arch of his throat to his chest, mouthing thick muscle with desperate, wet licks, before sucking a nipple into his mouth with a grateful moan. Price tasted like heaven, raw masculinity and power, and Simon wanted to overwhelm him, overcome the strength roiling beneath his skin, possess it and feel it wrapped around his prick until it yielded to him.

Mine, mine, his mind chanted, his nose burying in Price's armpit as he forced one of Price's arms above his head. Simon ran the flat of his tongue into the groove of it, tip flicking over the veins in his bicep before he sucked kisses into that flesh too. Price gasped, a low, raspy sound deep in his throat, his erection pressing up into Simon's belly, and Simon sank off the edge of the bed as he worked lower.

There was a layer of plush on Price's abdomen and Simon nipped at it, tonguing the trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his shorts, before wrenching those down too. Price's full cock bounced free, the slit wet with precum, but Simon ignored it to bury his face in the dark curls around his sac, inhaling the deep musk of him with a feral, half-wild growl.

"Filthy git," Price said through a throaty laugh, only to dissolve in a low moan as Simon sucked, wet and open mouthed, at his balls, teeth threatening tender skin in a way that made Price's cock twitch and throb with arousal. Simon didn't leave him waiting too long, swallowing the thick bulb of his glans to the back of his throat, tongue writhing and wriggling beneath his shaft. Price arched, strong fingers scrunching at Simon's mask and then dropping to grip the blonde tufts that escaped the back of it.

Simon let him fuck up into his mouth, his arms curling around his thighs to pull them apart, Price's heels nudging the backs of his shoulders. It was erotic, the way Price's body moved in search of pleasure, even splayed and vulnerable. His command didn't falter. "Nnh, Simon, fuck, fuck... Yer mouth's a bloody treat, sweet'eart."

Simon growled and pulled off, leaving strings of saliva and cum to trail down his chin to the tip of Price's cock as he stared up the naked length of him to the mischievous blue eyes watching him. Price knew what he was doing. Knew how he was baiting Simon to fuck him until his legs didn't work and his throat was raw from the moaning. Simon's cock ached, the brush of soft fleece enough to make him rut forward against the mattress in search of pleasure. "C'mon, Simon. Fuck me," Price snarled, strong thighs testing Simon's grip on them.

Simon surged up his body to smash their mouths together, teeth catching chapped lips, the taste of copper between them as he snatched the bottle of lube from where Price had chucked it in full anticipation of the railing he was about to receive. Simon squirmed out of his joggers, thick cock rutting into the sweat and spit slick skin of Price's hip, fisting the bed sheets with one hand as he gathered enough self control to tilt to the side and soak his cock in lube. A messy fist smoothed the gel down to the base before gathering Price's legs up his torso, his tip pushing into the snug grip of Price's hole.

"Mmf, fuck, slow, slow... Fuckin hells," Price snarled, nails biting into the side of Simon's neck as Simon quivered under the strain of self control. He rolled his hips in short, measured thrusts, easing in slowly, hunching down to kiss the grimace of concentration off of Price's face.

Simon was a decent length, nothing to sniff at, but it was the girth that truly satisfied, left people wrecked. It had taken previous lovers time to work up to and even Price, practiced and experienced, huffed deep breaths as his body yielded to it. "God bloody fuck, mm..." Price cussed, pushing his head back as he rocked up to meet Simon's hips, sliding himself up and down the full length of him. "Yeah, tha's it, right... Ah, right there, Simon, fuckin... Ah."

He was fucking beautiful like this. Beautiful. There weren't a word that fitted better. Blue eyes misty, his head thrown back, the flush of pleasure down his neck, splashed across his furred chest. His legs spread wide and wanton as Simon's fat cock sank into his greedy hole. Simon wanted to look, but he also wanted to taste, his teeth scraping through the scruff of Price's beard on their way to his neck. The pace was sweet torture, the pleasure curling up his spine, his balls pulled tight, sinking in all the way to the hilt, hoping Price'd be able to feel him in his guts if he thrust deep enough.

"G'wan, fuck me proper, boy," Price rasped, rewarded almost immediately with a firm thrust that startled a yelp out of him. It was all the encouragement Simon needed, gathering Price's legs to his shoulders as he began to piston his hips at a relentless pace, fucking hard and fast into the warm, wet clutch of Price's body.

Simon loved making Price loud, his bitten off cusses peppered with lower moans, gasps that almost bled into whines when Simon found the right angle. It was a complete and utter fracture of his iron control, and Simon revelled in it. His own noises ran away with him; snarls, growls, Price's name, his title, sir. The dizzying pleasure unspooled through him from head to toe, the day's tension burning out of his muscles with every pant of exertion, Price's body milking his cock with the most delicious friction.

Price didn't touch himself. He never did at first. He liked being fucked; liked the way a thick cock felt as it spread him open and pounded his prostate, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he met each thrust, demanding. When Simon shifted onto his feet, curving Price's hips up until he was fucking down into him like an animal mounting a mate, deeper, harder, than before, Price finally fisted his cock in search of his building release.

Simon lost track of anything but the heat of Price's hole, the pulsing clutch of it around his prick, the increasingly desperate noises each of his thrusts punched out of Price's chest. His orgasm curled up his spine, pulling taut in his muscles, his balls high and tight as he held off until the end he desired.

Price's hand stuttered and then he was spilling, thick ropes of cum splashed over his chest and neck, his impressive cock throbbing and flicking in the circle of his fingers as he teased himself through the aftershocks. Simon went to pull out, but Price snarled, "Don't you... fuckin dare. "

It flicked a switch in Simon's head, cut the final thread of a chord that had kept him tethered, and he began to rut like the animal he was. The wet slap of his hips grew louder as he chased his high, Price's groans broken around the pain-pleasure of overstimulation, his hole more lax post orgasm, relaxed, sloppy with lube and precum, the noise of Simon's cock fucking into it as obscene as his command to be bred full that punched out in the next breath. "Fuckin... breed me, Simon."

Simon came with a bitten off shout, grinding down into Price 's body as his balls emptied in hot, heavy pulses. Price moaned, pressing up into Simon's hips, rocking slowly as Simon's stuttering thrusts ended with him staying as deep as he could until his cock had stopped twitching, brimming Price with a week's worth of frustrated build up.

"Fuckin hell," Simon rasped, slumping down onto his elbow as he drew out, satisfied by the wetness that covered Price's thighs in the aftermath, and the puffy redness of his fucked out hole.

"Hope they do," Price murmured, shaking legs dropping off the edge of the bed. Simon slumped onto his back, and Price rolled onto his side, following him. "You broken?"

"Nah. Fuckin knackered."

Price barked a laugh. "Simon 'One Nut Wonder' Riley."

"Fuck off," Simon blustered through a laugh of his own. "Aren't you meant to be gettin' a limp dick at your age anyway?"

"Watch it," Price shot back, but without heat. He patted around blindly for his cigarettes and lighter, striking one up between his lips. He took a toke before passing it across to Simon, who puffed smoke at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Surprised maintenance haven't beasted you for that smoke alarm yet."

"They'd have to catch me first."

"Wiley bastard."

Price smirked as Simon passed the cigarette back, smoke curling from his nose as they both gazed thoughtfully into the dark above them, comfortable and quiet in the afterglow.

They fucked again a few more times that night; slower, closer to lovers than the raw fuck of earlier, and Simon spooned up behind his captain, thrusting into him as he tenderly kissed his neck, drawing out softer moans and praise. "Yeah, Simon... Mm, fuck, that's, ah, ah, please..." The way Price arched into him, muscular body spreading itself eagerly to be pleasured, gravelly voice demanding and pleading in equal measure, made Simon heady with lust and adoration.

Simon wasn't sure what the fuck they had, what it was called; he knew it was wrong by the standards of the service, but they'd have to pry it out of his cold dead hands.

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I need your brilliant mind on the "Secret Kinks" for the COD people. I'm talking the kinks that they're too shy or too unhinged to openly talk about and have to ease their respective partners into understanding.

I envision the first time Alerudy expressed burning/branding as a kink being a "haha, that's funny" to "Oh fuck you're serious and it's actually stupidly hot"

The branding is an Alejandro thing, but after finding out about Rudy's penchant for cigarette burns, they decide to try it on Rudy first because he asked so politely. Alejandro ends up harder than he's ever been in his life. Also, predator/prey.

I also stand by my "Rudy has a thing about ears" shit because that's a hard one to convince people on. Not to try, but just to consider it in the first place.

John's, as tame as it is, is choking. To admit that he wants to hand over control to someone in the bedroom and allow them to wield that power over him? That takes work, but eventually he's able to articulate it to Nikolai and as to be expected, the Russian adores it.

Nikolai's is chastity, one he has not explored with John. [Yet.] But he's explored it with many other people in his past.

Adler's is degradation in the form of homophobia. And by that I mean if someone were to wrap a hand around his throat, pressing their chest to his back while they spit something about how "Knew you'd take it like a good little fag, pretty boy like you." He'll clench down with a vice grip.

Woods is the opposite end of that; he wants to be the one calling Russell a fag. Also, one day, in the midst of an argument that's bordering on a quickie, he grinds a handgun against the soaked fabric of the other man's underwear and ends up having to catch him as Adler's knees weaken.

Simon likes sweat and musk. Soap's just back from the gym? How nice, he's gonna lick the sweat from the Scot's pits and huff his shirt later on when he has a hand on his cock. He never brings it up; it's Soap who notices, but when he does, Simon gets shameless about it.

Johnny's? Spanking. Too stubborn to want it or ask for it, gets aw rid in the face if Ghost so much as alludes to it. Until the day Ghost smacks his arse so hard he leaves a red handprint on his left cheek and coos at him, "Look at you, gagging for it."

Gaz has a thing for boss/secretary roleplay. Specifically, that is because he likes to play the boss who has some poor, overworked secretary crawling to him on their knees just for him to make them try to unbutton his slacks with their teeth.

Alex's is femdom and titfucking. I don't have to explain. He only admits this to Farah when drunk and almost falls ass over elbow when she drags him away from the table by the collar of his shirt.

Farah thinks she has a thing for temperature play. She thinks it's stranger than it is and brings it up to Alex with great reluctance, who then immediately fetches a bowl of ice cubes, pops one in his mouth and drops to his knees in front of her expectantly. That's how she learns that an ice-cold tongue lapping at her clit will have her hips arching off the bed.

Graves likes being smacked around; he's open about that. He's less open about his desire to be collared and tugged around on a leash.

And lastly, the Laswells. Latex. I shall say no more; my Catwoman roleplay posts say enough.

I lied, not lastly. Nolan is into high sex, really into it. Even if he's the only one who's high and he's getting smacked over the back of the head for acting like a misbehaving mutt as he humps Makarov's leg.

I actually can't think of one that Makarov wouldn't be entirely open about. Never mind, one word: Corruption.

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"Your commander on this Op is Philip Graves, call-sign SHADOW-01. If you want to get shit done, he’s the man you want in charge."

[plethaid]

konig hyperspermia anyone??

Gaz takes one look at Konig and knows he has to make this huge man cry. He wants to break him down and have him begging.

Gaz very quickly learns three things, Konig cums fast, he cums a often, and he cums a fuck ton. One touch and hes trembling. He'll be five orgasms in before he starts to beg for a break. He's ruined multiple sheets with the sheer amount he can produce. And fuck is Kyle obsessed.

Konig becomes a tool for him. Ordering the giant to jerk off into the others coffee in the morning. Using him whenever he needs to wind down before passing him off to Ghost or Price. Sometimes Kyle and Simon have a competition to see which one of their subs finishes first. Konig always wins. Meaning Johnny spends most his nights grumpy and unsatisfied.

An idea strikes Kyle and he can't get it out of his head. It doesn't take much to convince you. So he gets everything prepared. Inviting the whole team to watch the show he's planned.

Konig's already squirming from the attention. All eyes on him and you as you straddle him and slowly sink down onto his cock. He had been allowed to keep his mask on, but was already regretting it as he started to sweat below the heavy hood.

Kyle's movements were slow and practiced as he tied knot after knot around you and Konig. His careful fingers raising goosebumps along your skin. Before long you and the Austrian were tied together. Unable to move. Konig was trembling with need. The warmth of your walls having him teetering on the edge already.

Then Gaz started to prep him. One finger then two as he stretched Konig enough to take the vibrator he had ready. Konig came twice during the the prep alone. You could feel it inside you. Plugged by his cock and unable to leak out. You already felt so full but you knew it was going to get worse.

Konig was panting and trembling against your chest by the time Kyle stuffed the toy in him and turned it on.

Now the others could sit back and watch as you were stuffed full of load after load. Thighs shaking. Every time you clenched down on him he would cum again. Every time you would try to pull away he would cum again. Every small movement, every twitch and pulse and grind had him moaning and stuffing you full of an impossible amount of spunk.

It almost hurt how full you were. It was starting to ooze out of you despite his cock keeping most of it in.

They kept you like that for hours. You had cum a handful of times, just from the pressure alone. But Konig, he was gone. Mindless incoherent babbling as he was stuck in a near constant orgasm. Cock jerking inside you weakly with each spurt of cum.

Finally after what felt like forever you two were pulled apart. You whined shakily as an absurd amount of cum spilled out of your poor cunt. Pooling on the sheets below you. Tears welled in your eyes as all the pressure was release and yet another orgasm washed over you.

Jesus was Konig still hard?

[plethaid]

✎. simon will do this, if it makes johnny feel better.

tags. fem!reader, established relationship (simon/reader), threesome, double penetration in one hole, slight size kink, dirty talk [18+ only]

featuring. simon, soap

masterlist

Simon doesn’t share, but he makes an exception this time after his best friend’s date is a no-show, and he isn’t heartless enough to let Johnny hang out at the pub alone. Anybody will tell you: he can be a real nice guy when he wants to be.

And you don’t mind the extra company or another mouth to feed, that the flowers in the vase you put on the counter were meant for someone else, how Johnny gets flirty after his fourth beer, or— 

“Fuck, love,” Simon grunts into your shoulder when he finally eases his cock into you beside Johnny’s. “I guess you can take it like a champ, after all.”

But you hardly hear him over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and the creaky mattress below your knees.

Johnny thumbs away your tears while you tremble above him, cupping your face to pull you into a kiss so you have something to focus on other than the feeling of being split down the middle—it takes an extra amount of effort not to clench down when you already feel like you���re about to break in two.

“Look at you,” Johnny mumbles against your lips. “Never thought you’d really let me do this.”

Then he pulls out, slick heat gripping him the whole way, and pushes deeper inside, punching a shaky breath out of you. 

He and Simon are in perfect sync, keeping you full while the other drags his cock out, only to fill you up again. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are—at how much you like it—a hazy cloud settling over you as they use you for their pleasure.

Because Johnny’s sad, and you have a thing for making people happy.

Simon sucks little possessive marks into your shoulder and across your spine, murmuring filthy praise against your skin that consists of “sweetest and tightest pussy, my perfect little fucktoy” and “so fucking pretty.”

“That’s it.” Johnny’s voice is low and strained, barely heard above the loud squelching between your legs, but he sighs it into your mouth as he slowly comes apart. “Fuck—ah—you feel so good.”

A hand dips between you to press against your belly, where you can feel them, hot and heavy against your walls, making you squeal as a little ball of warmth travels down to your toes and all the way to the tips of your fingers. Simon fists your hair, tugging you away from Johnny so you’re looking up at him upside down. 

“So greedy that you needed two cocks to fill this soft little cunt, huh?”

You whine, unable to form an actual response outside of a few jumbled syllables, but a slap against your ass makes you whisper a shuddered yes.

He tells you to open your mouth before he spits onto your awaiting tongue, some of it hitting your cheek. When you swallow obediently, he smears what doesn’t make it across your lips with the thick pad of his thumb. 

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he sneers, at odds with the soft way he kisses your cheek and reverently chokes on your name. Neither of you hear Johnny groaning under you as you clench down hard at the possessiveness in his voice—because at the feel of his wedding band pressing against your throat like a brand, how can you forget?

Simon doesn’t share, but this, he’ll do. Just this once because you’re already his, and he wants Johnny to know what it’s like to have a woman like you.