#simon riley has straight hair in this one

[eggnogs-fever-dream]

Made a doodle a while ago of them kissing 👉👈

[whateveriwant]

Simon Riley rough sex this. Simon Riley hard kink that. What about silly sex with Simon, huh? What about fun, carefree sex? What about goofy, awkward, ‘Ouch, you're on my hair’ / ‘Oh shit, sorry, love’ sex with Simon? Huh??? Ever think about that?

Simon who trips and falls after getting his feet caught in his trousers. Simon who fumbles his words as he tries to dirty talk, because you just feel so damn good he can't think straight. Simon whose sweat drips and stings your eyes as he holds himself above you. Simon who attempts to keep a straight face after one of you makes a fart noise, but then he breaks, which makes you break, and then you're both just dissolving into a fit of laughter. Simon who accidentally elbows you in the head as you're changing positions. Simon who misses your lips as he tries to kiss you in the dark, catching the tip of your nose instead. Simon whose voice cracks super loudly in the middle of a moan. Simon who forgot to lock the cat out of the room, and now she's jumping on the bed with you. Simon who has to pause and take five minutes after he gets a bad cramp in his leg. Simon who grins and chuckles to himself as he cums, biting his lip as he's overwhelmed by a feeling of bliss.

And finally, neither Simon nor you really worried about finishing, because at the end of the day all you care about is having fun together.

[saksukei]

subtle things simon ‘ghost’ riley does for you

masterlist | simon has a crush on you | captain john price version

everybody on the base is aware of one thing. first – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant. second – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant’s favorite. it's clear that simon has taken a liking to you, but he disguises it well enough for it to sweep under your radar.

just knowing eye stares. god. he's such a sucker for just staring at you, be it when you guys are training, when there's a meeting going on, in the barracks, when somebody says something stupid. he looks to you as a form of reassurance, giving you a slight nod most of the time. this is his way to communicate. he's thankful for his mask because he knows damn well he's blushing underneath when his eyes meet yours and you give him a big grin.

speaking of eye contact, if any time ghost says something sarcastic under his breath and you hear it despite being across the room, he will absolutely wink at you. it's disguised so so well omg. especially if you mention something that's a known joke between the two of you, god he’ll just lean back, give you a wink and continue listening to the briefing. (he also subtly checks you out by the way)

has a habit of just messing your hair. he knows it irritates you, but that's just his way of showing affection. the first time he reached out his gloved hand to mess your hair, price just grinned. he knew simon was smitten.

he lets you ramble on and on about things you like, dislike, philosophical debates, anything really, with him occasionally adding quips. soap is so shocked at simon’s change of attitude because when he talks for a minute, the lieutenant just asks him to shut up.

he secretly makes things easy for you. like you gotta carry big boxes to the warehouse? they’ll be done before you know it. a report is holding you up? it's already stapled and on your desk. “what else?” he asks. he's terribly intuitive as well, so he knows when something is bothering you.

has a habit of just standing behind you. that's his way of looking out for you. and if he senses any danger, you best believe he's gonna be on his A game. be it a sniper or be it some new private that made a suggestive remark, he’ll put them straight.

he's your biggest supporter except he's constipated in actually supporting. you did pretty well on a mission? most you’re getting out of him is “you did good, yeah?” but that's it.

he's also so so smug with his remarks. i’m talking constant shit eating grins, smirks, fucking irritating cocky behavior but he’s so hot with it. “you think you can take on me?” even with his mask on, u can just tell!! “oh yeah? c'mere and prove me wrong”

fucking simp enjoys training with you soooo much like especially the ‘first one to get pinned loses’ he puts you down so easily. but then he coaches you as well “c’mon you can fight better than this” as he points out other techniques to use. “atta girl” (i’m gonna kms). always the person to challenge you and push you to your limits because he's not taking a risk when it comes to your life.

[ragingbookdragon]

Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

[the-melancholic-human]

The infamous, long awaited, not once, but twice deleted… simon riley x single mom reader fic is finally here:

Simon riley can’t cook for the life of him. Every time he’s back home from deployment, he’ll just survive on instant noodles and canned beer for maybe a week and then he goes back to base and gladly munches on the prepackaged food they throw at him.

Truth is, it has always been like this, and he’s never seen anything wrong with it.

Until price told him that the next op will be in 3 months and this grown ass man shivered just thinking about eating shitty frozen food for 90 days straight.

He begged price, said he’d stay and clean up the base for free, anything! He’d do anything to stay! And price told him to ‘piss off for 12 weeks before he went insane’

Cut to simon, standing in the frozen goods isle, letting out a groan as he rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose. And he angrily stomped towards the frozen bags on the shelves and dropped everything in sight into his cart, trying so hard not to puke at the mere thought of eating all of that junk. The thing is, he was so mad at that moment that if some poor soul approached him asking where the milk was, they’d get a box of frozen turkey legs shoved down their throat.

And you know, someone did approach him. And no, they got to live.

It was a tiny toddler, maybe around 5 or 6, wearing a purple tutu skirt, and she was holding a dino plushie to her chest, looking straight up at simon.

Picture this, a grown 6’2 man, muscular with tats and everything, looking down at a 5 year old girl with messy hair and yellow rain boots. They both looked so serious, none of them broke the eye contact, staring at each other with puzzled expressions.

Simon was about to continue shopping when he saw a woman running towards them, she dropped down to the ground, distressed and scared, tightly hugging the toddler. She whispered to the kid ‘why did you leave me, never do that to me ever again, mom was so scared’

And you know, he could’ve just walked away at that point. Of course, It was a heartwarming scene to behold, a mother finding their lost child, but god, simon couldn’t stop staring at the woman kneeling on the dirty in front of him, the way her eyes were glossy with tears, her cheeks slightly red from the tear stains and she was beautiful. Beautiful.

It had been years, if not decades, since the last that simon thought a human being was beautiful. He wasn’t used to the butterflies that were flying in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure how to react. So he sat down, next to her.

“Hey… t’s okay, don’t worry luv, you found her, alright?”

“I- she was holding my hand one second… and the next i couldn’t find her! I got so… scared, and she wasn’t anywhere, and i thought- i thought”

Simon wasn’t one for holding hands.

But he held her hand. He put his calloused pale hand over hers, and he couldn’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the feeling. He was dizzy, like he had been drinking bottles of cheap booze, but he didn’t feel sick like the way the cheap booze made him feel, he felt warm.

And with that, the woman looked up at him,

“Thank you? For, for-“

“I didn’ find her luv, you did, but y’welcome anyway”

He laughed out, trying to act like there weren’t fireworks exploding in his head just by looking at her eyes.

But she chuckled, she chuckled at him!

“Sorry i couldn’t help but notice… is that like 20-ish pizzas you’ve got?”

And she pointed at his cart, which had a huge pile of frozen pizzas stacked on top of each other. She giggled.

He cursed under his breath,

“Yea, i- long story, i… can’t cook?”

“Can’t cook? Cook food?”

He put his hand on his neck, rubbing the aching muscle, as he let out another sigh shaking his head.

“That… can’t be good for you, blood pressure is the silent killer after all”

“I know, i know, i-“

“I could… teach you how to cook?”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Cockwarming Simon as you two make out in his office.

From the request here

“I need it in ya, baby,” Simon gasps in between the breaks in your lips connection. “Just for a bit. Ya know ya fuckin’ want me in ya too.”

The tiny office is silent save for the deep groans and sharp breaths as Simon holds you close, you perched comfortably on his beefy thighs while he sits at his desk so that he can steal kiss after heated kiss, relishing in the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Rough hands run up the length of your back, following your spine over your shirt until they reach the back of your head where he uses them to draw your face in tighter until your mouth stings from the pressure. 

Sitting in the middle of his lap you can feel his cock poking against the cheek of your ass, pulsing and throbbing as it strains against the fabric of his pants. It’s no surprise what he needs; it’s the same thing he wants every time he calls you into his office for a “meeting” during your lunch break, which is becoming more and more frequent these days.

You are a very addictive problem, one that he is constantly losing himself in and making every excuse in the book to spend as much time wrapped up in that he can. A pretty thing like you, how is he supposed to keep his hands off? If that means setting up a quick make out session to get through the day, then he’s gonna make it happen one way or another.

“Have training in a bit,” you mutter as you break from his mouth just for a split second. “Don’t want to be late.”

He’s right back on you before the last beat of your reply can hit, not wanting to be parted from you for longer than needed. It takes a minute before he tries to reason with you again. “Not gonna be late,” he reassures. “But how the hell am I supposed to stay outta ya, hmm? Not when ya feel so fuckin’ good. Just want ya to warm me for a bit and then I’ll make sure you’re outta here with plenty ‘a fuckin’ time.”

His hand rubs along one of your thighs as the other is still tangled in the strands of your hair, not wanting to give you the chance to get away from the barrage of his lips. Fuck, it’s getting harder to think straight the longer his mouth captures yours in that tangled dance that he seems to be an expert in. You lean into his embraces a bit more and Simon is sure he has you right where he wants you now.

There is not a chance in hell you are going to deny him. “You better make it up to me later,” you say breathlessly and you can feel his lips upturn into a smile against your own.

The grip on your hair tightens as he gives it a sharp tug. “Take off your fuckin’ pants.”

That gravely, heavily accented tone sends a full shiver down your spine. No one can make a demand like that sound so fucking good, especially now that he’s made you delirious off his kisses alone.

The officers building is full of people today so privacy is near non-existent and though you know this is probably a terrible idea, you can’t be stopped. Helping you off his lap Simon sets you on your feet to the side of the desk, giving you the space to do what you need to do. He watches with hungry eyes as you undo the button keeping your bottoms secure; goddamn you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?

Adjusting himself, he sits back more in his chair. “Slower,” he demands firmly. 

Instantly your movements become measured as you take your time undressing while you keep those beautiful eyes directly on him. He doesn’t break eye contact at all; instead his hand slips down over his abdomen to the crotch of his own pants where he tugs at the fabric tenting there before massaging the spot as he watches your little striptease. Those unflattering uniforms keep all those voluptuous curves hidden from his view and so any chance he gets to see you out of them is a treat indeed. 

You drag the zipper down painfully slow, making sure to give him all the tantalizing he wants. As the front now hangs open, you slide your hands back to your hips where you slip your fingers into the waistband and begin to push them down until the top seam of the panties clinging around your hips are exposed. 

Eyes unblinking, breathing stayed, Simon is caught in the moment, his hand pulling up the hem of his shirt just over his navel so that he can fiddle with his belt buckle until he can pry the damned thing loose. He grunts as he has to roll his hips back so that he can slip his hand between the bulk of stocky muscle on his lower abdomen and the seam of his pants to get it off. The metallic clink rings out and he quickly undoes the rest, plunging his hand inside to pull out his cock so that he can palm it and give it a proper stroke as you continue on. 

Instantly you freeze as your eye catches that trail of sparse hair traveling down the line of his stomach below his belly button towards his member and your mouth begins to salivate and a hard, throbbing pulse between your thighs makes your legs feel like liquid. God, you are so down bad for your superior that it is bordering on pathetic the way that even that small patch of hair has you chomping at the bit.

Simon clears his throat as he catches your sight lingering and as you meet the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his kiss-raw lips, you refocus on the task at hand. These pants still have to go and time is of the essence. You continue on, pushing the fabric down over the curve of your ass to your thighs and then your ankles in the same slow fashion, only this time more unsteady as your heartbeat pounds. They hit the ground and those damned pants are finally off; there you stand before him in nothing but your panties.   

 “Off,” he hisses as his head nods down to the last article of clothing keeping you from being filled by him.

There’s heat bubbling in your cheeks now, making them flush, and though you are almost rendered dumb just from the tension alone there’s still a little fire in you yet. “What’s the magic word?” you ask with a good bit of sass. 

A chuckle escapes his mouth as his hand strokes harder around his dick; he does love a bit of cocky pushback, but make no mistake that that will be remembered for later. His mouth yearns to devour your lips again and he doesn’t want to wait any more than he already has, so he lets it be…for now. Leaning forward in his seat he reaches out and his large hand wraps around your wrist to pull you back to him.

“Keep ‘em on all ya fuckin’ want sweetheart, don’t need ya to take ‘em off for what I wanna do,” he groans as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to move yourself back on top of him straddling over his lap. 

Fair enough. 

You can feel his warm fingers twitching with anticipation as they move in between your thighs and up against your clothed sex before his digits hook themselves into the crotch of your panties and wrench them to one side roughly. The seam digs into that soft area at your upper inner thigh as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck while a hand on your hip aligns your body at the perfect spot over top of him. 

Holding the base of his cock, Simon pushes down on your hip and you don’t fight it. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, now let’s get this in,” he praises as the tip pokes through your petals and against your entrance. A harder press on your body and his cock shoves its way inside, stretching you wide as it slips in and you whine inside your closed mouth as you struggle to take him in so quickly. 

“F-fuck,” he exclaims, his body shuddering as you come all the way down until you are once again sitting on his lap only this time with all of him thrust deep inside you. “Isn’t this better? Goddammit, this is where ya fuckin’ belong princess.”

His forehead comes to rest on your own, staggered breath being siphoned between the pair of your lips before he leans up into you and crushes your mouths back together in sloppy kisses that leave you with a yearning that situates itself deep in your core. Your mouth is like candy, sweet and addictive, and each brush of your lips against his own only makes him vibrate with a need for more. Long fingers find their way back to tangle in your hair to grip it hard as he smashes his face in until your features are molded together.

Those soft, supple lips are his to ruin and he will, by fuck he will. With each fiery embrace he lays his claim upon your mouth as if he wishes to bind your faces together so he never has to do without their euphoria. Without warning his strong, thick tongue parts your lips with ease and plunges fully inside your mouth to dance and twist with your own, filling the orifice to capacity as he shoves it down the back of your throat. 

You can barely intake air with your mouth full of his tongue, but it doesn’t matter. Suffocation feels like a dream when you are stuffed so overwhelmingly from above and below. Your pussy holds him tight, tight enough that the throbbing from the blood rushing to engorge his cock feels like he’s being stroked without any movement. Each throb has a visceral reaction and you can feel the wetness gathering by the second with every beat. 

The dizzying intensity of his kisses and the pulsating of his cock are too much and leave you clenching your thighs, squeezing him in the process as you cannot help rocking your hips, but that is dangerous territory. Simon is already teetering close to the razor’s edge.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ move,” he says with a sharp hiss of breath, wrangling your hips down square against his pelvis with a heavy grip so that you cannot shift them at all. “We don’t have time to do this proper, just need to feel ya to get through this fuckin’ day and then I’ll do it right later.”

There is desperation on his lips something vicious and it can be felt in the way his embraces become more aggressive; through the haze fogging your brain you instinctively know he is holding on by a thread. Doing as he says, you do your best to keep yourself still to allow his cock to soak in you just as he wants. 

Your arms around his neck tighten as you grip on to sanity and his hands travel back up your body to cradle your face between them. There’s nothing outside of the taste of your lips, the burn from the pressure of your mouths together, the throbbing from inside your tight pussy as it coats his cock in your nectar. It all becomes an insatiable blur as his mind numbs and he forgets everything else outside of the ecstasy of you. 

The longer he’s buried in you the more your walls swell to squeeze him tighter and he does not realize what is happening. Simon forgets that he is getting too worked up, succumbing to all that pleasure that he cannot stop his body from its more primal instincts. With each passing minute the tension from the coil knotting in his abdomen is drawing closer together, threatening to snap at any second and send him coming and coming hard. 

Eyes closed, mind gone, body so warm it feels like he is on fire, the feeling of your body driving him insane, it is all too much. That coil has tightened all it can and he finally becomes aware of it just as you accidentally rock your hips ever so slightly, but it is enough that there is nothing else he can do other than accept what is about to happen. 

“Fuck,” he groans against your parted lips as he realizes that he has miscalculated just how much he can take. “Ugh…fuck, baby.”

It’s too late, this cannot be stopped and at the last second he reacts. With a sharp, loud grunt he picks your hips up and rocks his own back to pull out of you just as he pops off. The sticky, warm emission spurts out of him with force and up onto his exposed belly, catching the bottom half of his t-shirt in its intensity. His lips lock to yours in an effort to keep the noise from those deep, guttural whimpers down as he rolls his hips, milking every last out of the aching tip that he can as you grind against it.

A couple of minutes pass before his pace finally slows and comes to a stop with nothing left to give as that swift flow of exhaustion floods his body. Those bruised lips unlatch from your own as he falls against the back of the chair to sit limp as he works to regulate his breathing. Being so worked up is something he is still getting used to, losing himself like that is not a problem he had before you came along. But no one has ever made him feel as if he’d been struck by a live wire before: all excitement whenever you are around.

Just one of the hazards of being with such a vixen.

There is still a pulsing in you that causes your body to continue to ache, but as your wandering eyes land on the watch around Simon’s wrist you see that there are only a few minutes left before you need to be in training and you still have to make it across base. Carefully, you get up off of him and make your way to your pants, redressing fast as those brown eyes cling to your every move.

“See what ya fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart? I’m a goddamn mess for ya,” he sighs as he watches you fix your soaked panties back into place before pulling your pants back on, sad to see such a gorgeous sight be concealed once more. 

“Seems like we have that in common,” you smile as you finish up and lean back into him, using his thighs as support as you give him one last, lingering kiss. You’re already gonna be late, might as well make it worth it. 

Simon wants you to stay, to have you for the rest of the afternoon, but he knows that duty calls and if he doesn’t tell you to go then it’s only going to get harder to leave. “Best get outta here ‘fore I change my mind and do somethin’ stupid to get us both in fuckin’ trouble,” he says with a nod of his head. “We’ll finish this up later, I swear.”

You lean in one more time for a short peck before turning tail and quickly making your way out of the office. Simon’s gaze lingers on your form until you exit and shut the door behind you, leaving him alone to deal with the mess he’s made of himself while his raw lips are already craving yours again. 

“She is a problem,” he chuckles to himself, “a very big fuckin’ problem.”

Tag list: @llelannie

[chocolate-pies]

saw the "just the tip?" trope and am GOING FERAL OVER SIMON RILEY ASKING

MDNI

holy shit it'd just be a normal sunday morning too, the weekend after he came back from a mission and you figured you already made love to him, why would he get randomly hard again the next morning around LUNCH time??

well, he's standing at the doorway to the living room. you're sitting on the couch, attention focused on the television when you hear the shuffling of his feet.

"love?" his voice sounds a little strained.

"what is it?" you'd hum, and see movement in the corner of your eye.

simon would be standing near the end of the couch, bulge painfully obvious (and at eye level with you on the couch), his eyes focused on you sitting with your calves beneath you.

"you've no idea how beautiful you look sittin' like that." he sounds a bit gravelly now, breathy.

you let out an astonished breath of air--teetering on the edge of a laugh--as you sit up straight to look at him in the eyes. "are you really horny right now? we're about to have lunch. have you been holding it since morning, or?"

"been holdin' it since we woke up." he confesses, watching you move on the couch as your thighs reshape from the movement. simon practically salivates at the way your thighs and chest heave itself as you sit upright and with your legs off the couch.

"really, riley?" you ask, albeit a little annoyed and with an edge of arousal.

"just the tip? please? 'fore we gotta get lunch." there's a pleading edge to his voice, and it instantly makes you melt.

"fine." you give in, watching as he readily lays himself on the couch. you get up as a result, watching him shove his boxers and sweatpants down, his erection springing and slapping itself against his happy trail. precum is already leaking, glistening the couple pubic hairs it has touched.

the length and girth seemed.. bigger than last night. you quietly gulp as you move to straddle his hips, your left knee brushing against the couch a bit uncomfortably.

"le'me help you, sweetheart." his voice is husky, rough hands moving to grab your thighs and positioning himself with you so you didn't scrape your knee against the fabric of the couch.

the warmth from his dick catches your attention, your eyes downcast to see it rubbing against the cloth of your pajama shorts. a wet spot is already forming there.

"already so wet for me." simon rasps, digits harshly engraving dots into your thighs as he feels every slight movement from you against his cock.

"let- let me," you steady yourself as you hover over him, dick barely touching you. your one hand moves to lift your panties and shorts to the side, his dick twitching at the sight of your cunt sopping wet so fast.

"f-fuck." his hands rub circles on your thighs, feeling your pussy folds touch the tip of his hot dick. precum is immediately mixed with your juices, his eyes strained and focused where he disappears inside of you, "so fuckin' pretty for me."

you suppress a moan as you stay hovered, his fat head already feeling like a stretch as you feel the beginnings of his girthy shaft also enter. "y-you said just- just the tip." it comes out shaky, breathy, as you moan with your teeth on your lip.

"'m sorry, doll, you just look so fuckin' delicious. your cunt is so tight and addicting." his voice is strained again, groans erupting from his chest as he bites down on nothing. his jaw flexes from the motion as he stares at your juices staining your clothing and his dick.

you stare at him for a moment, his pupils blown wide as you begin to slowly take him fully. "so, so big." you mewl, thighs beginning to shake from having to keep yourself up as his length stretches your velvet walls.

"just f'you, my love. just f'you. all f'you." he begins rambling nonsense, his mind racing and at the same time, blank, as he feels himself bottom out. your cunt is just so perfect.

"'m not pullin' out, love." he rasps before his hips buck you into the air, the extra motion forcing his dick deeper into you as his balls press against your ass.

"gonna put a baby in you." he continues, hurriedly thrusting you into the air as you bounce on him to meet his hips with your own.

"would look so pretty f'me with a baby bump," he groans, practically growling, "and everyone will know you're mine." he seems to move faster with the last bit, his hips snapping into yours as the sounds of skin slapping get louder.

at the same time, the squelching from your wet pussy begins to pierce your ears as you shut your eyes, only mewling and moaning to the sensation of his dick brutally splitting you apart. your mind is numb, lackluster of any thoughts.

"cuh- cumming." was your only warning as he thrusts up one final time, your body slouching a bit as he fills you up. his hot cum already begins to dribble from out of you, and seeing this, simon continues to thrust more into you to keep it all in.

"look at you," he breathes, eyes focused on your blissed face, "all 'cause I creampied you?" his proud grin shows a bit of teeth as he focuses how your face contorts from the pleasure.

he stills, keeping his dick inside you to trap any and all the semen he could.

"love you, doll."

EDIT: found out about the read more divider!!!!!!

[yawnderu]

Beacon — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by the amazing @ave661

"She's kicking." Simon whispers, head delicately laying on your pregnant tummy, feeling the tiny kicks with his face and hands. His eyes are closed, fully focusing on the sensation he has been infatuated with for months.

"It tickles like hell." You comment with a laugh, hand running through his short hair, holding him closer to your body as a content sigh escapes your lips. He chuckles softly at your words, his hand delicately tracing patterns on your stomach while he talks to the baby, whispers you can't even make out.

"Someone's chatty today." You tease and he playfully rolls his eyes, gaze drifting up towards you, ignoring the way his cheeks hurt from smiling ever since he came back to his pregnant wife.

"What're we naming her?" He asks softly, looking completely relaxed as he lays there with you, feeling the baby kick away like the troublemaker you're both sure she'll be.

"I was thinking about giving her your mum's name, if that's okay with you." You tread carefully, tone gentle and soft, knowing fully well just how delicate this topic is. He looks away, expression hardening slightly as he thinks about it. If anyone else saw his face, they'd think he's angry, but you know that face too well— eyebrows furrowed, lips pulled into a straight line, and unblinking eyes looking at a random place in the room. He's deep in thought for what seems like hours, yet it was only seconds before he looked back up at you, gaze immediately softening.

"That'd be nice." Is all he can manage to say at first, heart beating so fast in his chest it feels like it's going to burst out, the memories of his mum are a wound in his soul that never closed.

"Thank you." He speaks softly, eyes closing as he leans the side of his face on your stomach, the baby's tiny feet kicking at his cheek gently. "Thank you for letting me have a piece of her back." Simon Riley thought he cried all his tears away as a child, yet no one can deny the wetness making his eyes sting, dotting his long eyelashes.

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley / female reader Secret baby trope / 18+ Inspo musing

It’s your eyes.

He notices them first.

They glance over from across the room, incredibly brief. You touch on everyone seated along the worn wood, cataloguing, categorizing, before turning your attention back to your friend, who seems to be in the middle of a story.

Like Johnny is.

“LT, ye even listenin’ to me?” Simon nods, but he’s still watching you. Tracing your spine, staring at the exposed skin on your neck. He imagines you smell like lavender, or citrus. Something spritely and soft. He conjures up the image of his thumb pressing into your bottom lip, and he wonders how plush it is.

You look like a perfect little treat.

And he’s in need of one.

“She’s bonnie.” Johnny sips his beer, eyebrow raised. “Like what ye see?” He shrugs. He hasn’t taken a woman to bed in years. It always ends up feeling wrong somehow, stale. Unease twists in his gut when clothes start to come off, anxiety trembles in the swell of his blood, and his scars begin to feel fresh. Torn open.

Sex makes him feel torn apart. Ripped to shreds.

But he’s not opposed to having another go at it. Not if you're the one taking his cock like a good girl.

There's something about you. You’re bright, like a little jewel, sparkling in the sun. A piece of something precious. Too golden to be tarnished, too sunny to be sullied by darkness.

He nearly swallows his tongue when you appear at the end of the bar, opposite of Johnny. You’re waiting to order another beer, he assumes, but you look over at him for too long, a second or two, and it tells him all he needs to know.

It’s in your eyes.

“Hi.” Your lips curve upwards at each side, a secretive smile, imparted only on him. His heart flutters like a school boy, young and naive all over again. His skin is hot, prickled under his clothes, hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

Fuck, you're so pretty. You're perfect.

He's staring at your lips, memorizing the pert Cupid's bow, the soft color that shines when your tongue darts out to lick them.

Johnny clears his throat. Simon's brain catches up to his body. "Hey-"

An oversized brute jostles you, his shoulder nearly pushing you into Johnny. You blink, doe eyed, and then step back from the bar, allowing him to take up the space where you just occupied.

Simon grits his teeth, vision tunneling red.

Kitten doesn't have any claws.

That's okay, he thinks. You wouldn't need them, if you had him.

He wonders if violence scares you. If he beats this ogre to a bloody pulp, would you run from him? He takes in the confused crinkle in your brow, wide, shy eyes, and decides on a different tactic.

"C'mere love." He husks, extending his hand, pushing Johnny's stool over with the heel of his foot, carving out a space for you to sidle in between them.

You press against his thigh as you take your spot, leaning forward to talk to the bartender, and when you look over your shoulder at him, small smile tugging at your lips, he presses his palm to the small of your back.

"And... two shots of whiskey, please."

You're... everything.

Naked, laid out on your bed with your legs spread, eyes still wide and sweet, and he can barely get his mouth to work as he looks at you.

"Simon," you whimper in the dark, hands reaching, searching, and he kisses each finger like they're a decadent treat, one he'll never have enough of, "please."

Moonlight illuminates your face, shines across the curves of your body, and he has to blink multiple times to steady himself, to keep himself grounded.

Your fingers don't feel like razors. Your mouth isn't torture. Every soft word you give him is like a balm. You're everything.

And he's going to show you, he's going to make sure you know- you're everything.

He's going to fuck you face to face.

But first, he needs-

Your hand wraps around his wrist. "I'm on the pill." you whisper, desperate. "I want to feel you... I'm clean, if you-" The trust you're implying is a foreign concept, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries. You're going to let him fuck you raw? You're going to let him feel the clutch of your pussy, without any protection?

You're out of your mind.

But so is he.

"I haven't been with anyone in years." His accent is a rasp, heavy with desire. "And 've got a clean bill of heath."

It's a mutual agreement. And it doesn't take any convincing.

"You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy raw, sweet girl? Is that it?" His mouth covers yours, and then trails down to your neck, nips across the tops of your breasts. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yeah," his fingers slide through your folds, teasing from top to bottom, swirling around your clit, "fuck, yeah, I want-"

"I've got a lot of cum for you, honey. You sure you can take it?" You clench around the finger he's slipped inside, and moan.

"Oh my god," Your spine arches, and he holds your hips, aligning himself before pushing into your body, melding the two of together almost perfectly.

Almost, because you're so bloody tight, it's like you're strangling him. He's not going to last.

"Relax," He murmurs, kissing your jaw, rubbing a slow circle around your clit. "There you go, that's my girl." It slips out, but you don't seem to care. Neither does he. Tonight, you're his. You and your body and your heart and your soul, belong to him. He'll mark you like you’re his. A fantasy, a wish, a far cry from reality.

In another life, maybe he'd have you forever. For real.

But in this life, he'll take what he can get, and you let him. You let him take and take and take all night long, on your back, face bared to him like he's the brightest star and not the darkness haunting dreams. You kiss him like it's real, and when he comes inside you once, and then twice, you let him stay there, locked tight, staring down into your eyes. He rubs your cheek with his thumb, and you smile. He presses his forehead against yours, and your cup the back of his head, gingerly kissing him, carefully, like you know. Like you can see him.

You say his name. You moan it. You scream it. It's never sounded so good, and he wonders if this is what it's like- to have and to hold.

In the morning, before the sun rises, he stands at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. He wishes you'd wake, wants you to open your eyes and ask him to stay, hopes you'll roll over and realize he's not there and call his name-

It's all a fantasy. Something that could never be more than what it was in that moment, in the moonlight, a secret held between two strangers, the first breath in the dawn.

He brushes his lips across your forehead one last time, and then disappears down the hall.

Out the door.

Out of your life.

[homicidal-slvt]

Thoughts on COD men favorite way to cuddle? Personally I believe Soap likes to lay directly on top of his partner, he’s a whore for head scratches. Please any soft headcanons you have for 141+LV would do rn. I just need some soft boys. 🥹

How Do They Cuddle?

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COD SFW Head-Canons

Characters: John Price, Johnny Mactavish, Simon Riley, Kyle Garrick, Alex Keller, Gary Sanderson, Nikolai, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Kate Laswell, Valeria Garza, Phillip Graves, König, Farah Karim

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Warnings: None- Just Fluff.

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John Price

Loves to pull you into his arms in bed and be the big spoon, honestly okay with most cuddle positions.

Will lay on top of you and snuggle but it's typically unintentionally in his sleep- like a weighted blanket that snores and sleep talks.

Will pass out immediately if you rub his shoulders.

Johnny Mactavish

Absolutely adores laying on top of you with his head on your chest, your heartbeat soothes him and lord help him if you scratch his head- he may just drool.

Any and all types of spooning is welcome, will be the little or big spoon.

Hands on you every chance he is given, tugging you close in bed and nearly roasting you because this man is a straight up living furnace.

Simon Riley

Pulls you into his side so you can lay your head on his chest, typically sleeps laying on his back.

Absolutely melts if you press little kisses to the scars on his face, wraps his arms around you so tight that there is no escape.

Not opposed to you spooning him or just wrapping your arms around him from behind.

Kyle Garrick

Does the thing of tucking your head to his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat, will also hum a soft tune to you and murmur the sweetest things as you fall asleep.

Tuck your face into the crook of his neck and you'll hear an audible sigh of happiness, arms slipping around you to pull you impossibly close.

Kiss attack!!! Will randomly pepper kisses all over your face and anywhere else you'll let him- he just can't resist you.

Alex Keller

Absolute puppy energy as he follows you around closer than usual whenever he wants to cuddle, will eagerly pull you to him on the couch or wherever else you two sit down.

Tucks his face into the crook of your neck and purposely tickles you with his facial hair, grins like an idiot when you giggle and push at him.

Is typically the big spoon in bed because he just loves being the one with his arms around you, planting kisses to your shoulders.

Gary Sanderson

Lays on top of you to trap you with his affection, nuzzling and making little hum sounds to express how much he adores you.

Traces shapes and letters along your skin when you two are cuddling in bed, loves tugging you close to his chest and running his hands along your back.

Often pats his lap when he wants you to stop what you're doing and just come sit on him for snuggles for awhile.

Nikolai

Handsy? Handsy. Gentle touches at all times and constant hugs from behind, is so damn cozy though and knows it- pulling you into him every opportunity.

Loves having you lay on top of him like a blanket, mumbling loving words in Russian as he rubs your back.

If you're sitting beside him his arm is wrapped around you, however he much prefers you on his lap so he can hold you even closer.

Alejandro Vargas

Wants you to lay on him. Please lay on him or let him spoon you, he just has to feel you close so he can praise you softly.

Will drag you onto his lap to hold you when he feels you're working too hard, that's enough chores for right now- snuggle time.

Rubs his hands lightly up and down your sides when you two are in bed.

Rodolfo Parra

Literally the absolute sweetest- wants to sit and cuddle you while feeding each other snacks. Wants you on his lap so he can tell you about his day while sticking food in your mouth.

Loves being the little spoon or laying his head on your chest, run your fingertips along his back and he'll hum out in response.

Consistently gives you the coziest hugs and sweet forehead kisses, hands on your waist or lower back.

Kate Laswell

Intense spooning- prefers being the big spoon but will gladly be the little spoon. Loves taking care of you.

Wants you to lean your head on her shoulder when you two are sitting at home watching shows together.

Encourages you to tell her all about your day, pressing a sweet kiss to your head as you drift off in her arms.

Valeria Garza

Holds your hands when you two cuddle in bed because it's romantic, presses kisses to your knuckles as you tell her about your day.

Praises you for whatever you accomplish and also insists that you take plenty of breaks so she can hold you.

Wants to be the big spoon or tuck your head against her chest so she can mumble sweetly in your ear.

Phillip Graves

An absolute menace who unleashes tickle attacks occasionally when you two are cuddling, usually though he just mumbles sweet things against your skin.

Showers you with kisses and groans softly as he eases into bed with you and with a 'c'mere darlin'' starts spooning you- loves being big spoon.

Wants you to lay your head on his chest sometimes as well, feel his breathing and steady heart beat while he rambles about his day.

König

Lay on him please- he craves it so bad to just feel you close like that. Wants to hold you tightly to himself and ramble about how much he loves you.

A giant teddy bear- please let him lay his head on your lap. He'll fall asleep instantly.

Gentle and doting wanting to give you massages constantly- if you return a massage though you will just hear so many soft groans and praises in German.

Farah Karim

Spoon spoon spoon- will be little or big spoon she doesn't care. Just let her tell you how gorgeous/handsome and perfect you are.

Rests her hands on your waist often when you're doing things, especially loves doing it if it makes you flustered.

Lay your head in her lap and she will gladly smile and stroke your hair- you're just so cute.

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{This prompt made me so excited I just had to do everyone. LMAO}

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{@gothgirl6-6-6 @soupbinsoup @sofasoap }

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{More Content}

[eggnogs-fever-dream]

Ok yeah so i got too impatient because uhhh yk. They're them. So here's this older drawing i made of these 2 homosexuals that i was gonna post tmr. They're so gay lol (they consume my every waking thought i cant cOPE)

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[lilyarchived]

distanced [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: can you tell i like writing angst?

warnings: swearing, hurt to comfort, fem outfit, a little ooc if you squint, 1.201 words oops

summary: after a fight with ghost, you don’t pay any attention to him for the whole day, deciding it’s what he wants anyway.

“forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” you sniffle, turning your back and grabbing your keys, storming out of the little apartment complex you two had been sharing for 6 months. his breathing was heavy, his huge form heaving up and down as he just watched you leave. ‘that’s it, then?’ you think to yourself, hesitant to keep walking to your car. god it was freezing. you go to fix your coat but you haven’t brought one. sighing, you quicken your pace to the car. it was dark out. 

your drive to your old apartment was quick, it was 2 am and the only cars out were people who had night shifts. you just wanted to talk to him, that’s all. you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend, that’s all; yet that seemed to set him off. screaming and tears were all that you remembered. you remembered how you flinched when he raised his hand to fix his hair. you remember his horrified look. you remember getting in your car and, oh. that’s now.

you reach your apartment and the first thing you do is lay down for 10 minutes to cool down. after deciding that’s enough moping around, you take a good look at your surroundings and decide it’s time for redecorating. you spent the whole early morning moving furniture around and hanging up new posters and renewing bedsheets, and adding new scents to your humidifier, and blasting feel good songs, and.. and.. you miss him.

never mind that, you finish up and decide to take time for yourself to unwind, showering, skincare, reading, and doing all sorts of your hobbies you haven’t gotten the chance to do. sitting comfortably on your polished couch as you flip through the pages of your book and take a long sip of your warm coffee, you start to appreciate life and yourself just a little bit more. that doesn’t help the fact that there is a part of you longing for him, missing how he’d usually be behind you cuddling, some documentary playing in the background as his soft snores fill the silence.

stop it! god! get a grip, [Y/N]! stop thinking about him! what’s so good about Lieutenant Simon “ Ghost “ Riley anyway!? it’s not like he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, not like he has that one soft look whenever it comes to you, it’s not like,, you love him. a long and exaggerated sigh came out of you as the realisation hits. you do love him. but what does it matter now? it’s been 4 long hours since you’ve seen him, he hasn’t even called! you check your phone again to look for any missed calls but all you get is a message from soap saying “yer late 2day?” ‘ohhh no.’ “shit.” you mumble as you search for your keys as you race to your car and get to the base as fast as you can. 

you blast through the debriefing room wearing a brown tank top with a brown cardigan hanging loosely, your moss green long skirt ruffled as you plop your messenger bag on the table, hair claw barely keeping your wild hair up. headphones still hanging on your neck as you apologise for being late. “glad to see you’ve dressed up first, eh?” price remarks with a small smile as he continues talking, your cheeks blushing from embarrassment, forgetting to get into uniform since you had left in such a rush. you straighten your hair as you take notes during the whole meeting, all while feeling a familiar pair of eyes scan your body.

you’re purposefully ignoring him, going straight to your office once the debriefing was over, despite his calls for your name. he didn’t wanna spend time with you? that’s fine, you’ll give him what he so desperately wants. you lock yourself in the room to take at least 3 minutes to just get a hold of yourself and breathe. you finally get up to do some of the paperwork you’ve been putting off, and get to price’s office to be assigned more.

“this is unusual, you want more work?” he raises an eyebrow at you before filing some more paper. “yes sir.” a hum is all you get out of him. you stand there for at least another minute waiting for more orders, that is until he calls in the man you’ve been dreading to see. “WHAT? NO. WHY WOULD YOU-” you shut up instantly as you hold your breath when his big frame comes in. “go help him out with drills, since you so badly want to work.” your captain’s sassy ass voice is making your eye twitch, but you nonetheless comply. you were the first to step out of the room infuriated and hot-headed, awaiting more orders from your lieutenant.  

as soon as you finish up helping the new recruits as ordered, you ignored your boyfriend's orders of wanting to talk after the drills. you speed walk to your room to lay down, bruised feet and sore back, whining and groaning at the pain. you immediately sit up as you hear your bedroom door creak open, wondering who it is since you had it locked. you go through the list of who could have your key and the only one to cross your mind is your boyfriend you’ve been ignoring for the whole day. and to no surprise it’s him, simon riley, who walks into your door and kneels beside your legs.

“what’re you doing?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and groggily shuffling your hair. he just sighs and starts massaging your legs, hoping you would take this as a silent apology. “god stop it, simon.”

he doesn’t listen to your complaints as he pushes your small frame (compared to his, i mean c'mon this man is a giant) on the bed, laying you down as he cuddles on top of you. “si- i can’t breathe.” he only shifts a little to the side so that he wouldn’t accidentally crush you with his sheer strength. “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to make you cry like that.” your eyes flutter shut as you calm your breathing, still being bear hugged by your lieutenant beside you. “was so worried, thought i’d never see you again.” his deep vibrating voice tickles your ears, making you slightly happy. the warmth you’ve been longing for was back.

“don’t you ever do that to me again.” you whisper, finally hugging him back and facing him for the first time in a while. “yes ma’am.” he replies, moving your stray hair strands back to see your face better. “won’t ever let you go again.”

a/n: outfit i was thinking of ,, anyway this was kinda like forced, i’ve been wanting to write this for so long and only got the time to do so now sooooooooooooo hope u like it mwua mwua stay hydrated

[cherryredstars]

I absolutely love your work! Could you maybe write some soft!Dom Simon riley? I really really like your characterisation of him

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with No Plot, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Body Worship, Oral Sex, Aftercare

Summary: Actions have always spoken louder than words. 

A/N: First Simon request (WHAT!!)

Word Count: 1.2K (Barely Edited)

Love is hard. Especially for Simon. 

It offers a new type of uncertainty, one entirely different from the uncertainty of the field. One that is much more risky, one that he doesn’t know how to navigate through. All he knows, from his life on and off the field, is that actions have always expressed what words can’t. That very fact has shaped Simon’s love language. 

So, on the days that both of you feel love overtaking all your senses, or on the days where love seems particularly daunting, Simon finds himself hovering over your delicate body. His hands pressing into the softness of your flesh as his body fills the space of your parted legs. His breaths are soft against your lips, eyes closed impossibly tight as he lets his tongue caress your own. Fuzzy colors dance along his closed lids as he takes in the smell of your shampoo and the warmth that seeps into his body. 

He pulls away, your lips trailing after him with a pout. The smallest of smiles covers his face and he coos down at you, pulling your shirt off your body and pressing soft kisses along the skin that becomes more exposed to him. He throws the shirt to the side, a pleasured sigh leaving his lips as he runs his fingers up and down your exposed body. His hands run down your chest, momentarily flicking your nipples to hear that beautiful gasp you can’t help but give. His fingers ghosting down the plane of your stomach and swirling around your belly button to hear your little giggles that warm his heart. He slides his hands under your back, massaging the flesh of your waist as he kisses up your body.

His smile makes the kisses a bit wonky, your eyes watching him as he kisses from your lower stomach, to your chest, to your neck, and finally to your lips. Your hands find their way into his hair, prickly from his very overgrown military-standard buzzcut. A pleased noise leaves him as tilts his head to deepen the kiss, lips slowly trailing away to kiss the other parts of your face. Soft lips meeting the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the thin skin of your eyelids. A fond smile crosses your face that mirrors his as he pulls away. 

He sits up, removing his own shirt before continuing to strip the both of you bare. Once you’re fully naked under him, he parts your legs fully and lowers his head to your sex. His first flick of his tongue is experimental, eyes closing as the taste of arousal blooms in his mouth. A soft groan vibrates in his throat, sucking you fully into his mouth. The pleased moan you let out goes straight to his aching cock. He hungrily buries his head in between your thighs, pulling away to give you teasing licks and diving back in. He coaxes an orgasm from you, eyes drifting up to your face as your tug at his hair. A hazy look covers his eyes, his hands massaging your thighs as he reluctantly pulls away. 

He licks his lips of any remaining arousal, pressing one last kiss to your sex, “Did so well, love. Tasted so good for me.” 

A soft whimper leaves your lips, but your eyes beam under his praise. He crawls back up the length of your body, caressing your cheek as he studies your face. He tries to memorize every curve and dip, tracing his fingers along them. His eyes shine with complete admiration for you, lowering his head to press his lips to yours when you whine out his name. Your own taste is shared with you, and your grip on him gets tighter. Your hips fully grind into Simon’s erection, causing a broken hiss. He lifts your hips up slightly, his tip pressing against your hole.

You can feel his precum, leaking excitedly from his tip and slowly dripping down your thigh. It becomes smeared when he bucks his hips, your soft mewl a contrast to his rough grunt. Simon tilts your head to the side, his face buried in the curve of your neck as he slowly pushes into you. He tries to stabilize himself by pressing heated kisses to your skin, biting and sucking hard before cooling the irritated skin down with gentle kitten licks. When he’s fully inside you, he lets out a deep moan, appreciating the way you’re clamping hard around him as you adjust to the fullness. 

He gives an experimental thrust, your back arching into him at the sensation. He moves his hand down to your thigh, wrapping it securely around him as he thrusts again. He can feel the blunt edge of your nails carving down his back, a sharp inhale of air entering his lungs at the feeling. His thrusts speed up the tiniest bit, his head lifting to look down at where his cock disappears inside of you. A thin spray of sweat hits your body when he whips his head up, his eyes wildly searching for yours. When they connect he moans out, his unoccupied hand coming to tangle in your hair. The tiniest whimper leaves you before you smile shyly, muttering out a ‘hi’.

Simon curses in response, his hips angling to hit the perfect spot inside you. He crashes his lips down to yours in a messy kiss. He tugs and licks at your bottom lip, his head briefly rolling back before he rests his forehead against yours. He continues knocking against that gummy spot inside of you, a strangled gasp leaving you as you feel the tightness in your stomach about to explode. You desperately grab at Simon, trying to find something to tether you to the moment. 

“I know. I know, babe. Go ahead, ride it out.” 

His words give you the right nudge over the edge. You get impossibly tighter around him as you arch off the bed. He lets out a deep groan at the feeling, watching as you come in a dazed trance. He’s not far behind, his hips stuttering as he explodes. His thrusts decrease to half hearted pumps as he rides out his release, a deep breath leaving him as he stares down at you. 

“M’love you.” he humbles out, kissing your cheeks gently as he slips out. He holds you against him tightly, breathing in the smell of your hair and sweat. 

His hand untangled from your hair and pushes it away from your forehead, laying a single kiss to your temple before getting up. He leaves you to rest on the bed, bringing wet washcloths to cool your warmed body and to clean you up. HIs touch is gentle and focused as he takes care of you, pressing kisses every now and then to your flushed skin. A soft smile graces your face as you watch the concentrated furrow of his brow, your hand lifting to smooth out the skin. 

He grabs your hand before you can fully pull it back, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. He loosely holds your hand as he begins walking away, stopping when your hold tightens. He looks back at you, silently asking what it is you need.

“I love you, Si.”

A deep breath expands Simon’s chest as he looks down at you. His eyes soften as they scan over your face. He says nothing in return, instead squeezing your hand tightly three times before letting it go. 

“I know.”

I love soft Simon!

[victoria-grimesss]

2 ideas!

One, I loved your soap w secretary girlfriend! What about something similar for ghost and konig?

Two, what about a COD fic where the lights go out and you are stuck in the dark together? 😘 any character you want!

masterlist

->Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader & König x Fem!Reader

->Words: 0.8k

->A/N: MDNI! These are so fun to write!!! Also adding that wonderful 'idea of the stuck in the dark' fic to the list ;)

Sure, Ghost and König are both big strong military men. They're intimidating and stoic. Tall and broad but they both love their secretary girlfriend differently.

Ghost:

He's a brute. Large and broad and dark. How you became accustomed to him was more comical than anything. One complaint report landed on your desk for him to pick up, which he never did. His training methods were.. less than desirable.. which you can imagine just looking at him and how he just stands and stares, barking commands.

34 total complaint reports from the newest training group landed on your desk, making a rather annoying pile. None of the complaints would ever be resolved, Ghost's training method is foolproof. So, you walked down the hallway, papers in hand and a scowl on your face straight to that man. You slam the door open to the training yard your heels sounding extra loud. Your stocking covered legs and short skirt is the view of the century out here.

"Lieutenant Riley, your complaint papers have occupied an annoyingly large space on my desk. Please be better about picking them up from now on." You shoved the papers into his chest and storm away. Simon was putty in your hand from then on.

--

He would stand arms crossed in your doorway as you helped the others. Waiting patiently, his stare dark and unwavering.

He loves to watch you work. Your soft hands filing the papers expertly you know every little place where everything goes. He sees how the guy you're helping out checks out your ass as you stand. He shoulder checks him on his way out and then he stands at the front and center of your desk, and you look up through your lashes at him.

"Can I help you Simon?" You ask him in a sultry voice as you reapply your lipstick.

"Yea. I can think of a couple things."

--

Your panties are around one ankle, your heels barely hanging on to your feet as your legs are wrapped around his hips and he's ruthless with his thrusts. You're on lunch and he took you to the file room, you're on a dusty old desk that's only used for storage. All the contents thrown to the ground as Simon couldn't wait any longer to be inside you.

"Fuck, you love this yea? Fuckin you right here panties round your ankle you can hardly focus on me."

He's right your head has been long spinning and your eyes struggle to stay focused. He drives himself into your wet heat so hard and rough your hair has become a half up half down mess in the process.

"Grippin me so fuckin tight love, maybe I start coming down every day, feed you my cock on your break. Would you like that, look at me when I'm talking to you."

Simon frequently rips your stockings when he's gripping your thighs, especially when he cums.

"Fuckin hell love you're a fucking mess dripping on me like this, going to cum deep inside you then you'll go back and sit all pretty at your desk with me dripping out of you. You want that love? Yea you do."

Simon is a ruthless lover, he can be sweet too. When he's not confined by a 30-minute lunch break window of course.

--

König:

König is top dog, the big guy on the ground. So you see him often. You'll keep track of his appointments and meetings, bring him food and coffee when he works late nights and eventually, he invites you to share a meal with him. After that he keeps calling you back to his office.

König is an older guy and his knees aren't all that good honey so be a doll and help him out. You'll get down on yours and wrap those pretty lipstick coated lips around him and his mouth is watering just watching you take as much as you can.

He's found that he has a certain fixation for the lipstick you wear and sometimes requests you wear certain colors for him when you go down on him. He loves the way it leaves rings around his cock and he'll stroke your hair as he speaks to you.

"Taking me so well mein liebling, you see that last ring of lipstick you left on me? Let's try to get even lower this time, you're a good girl I believe in you."

You'll take as much as you can, and when he finally trains his little secretary to take all of him he cums as soon as your lips meet the base of him leaving red lip marks on his skin.

And when he's feeling especially needy he'll call you into his office and have you straddle him. He'll kiss your neck as he takes off your heels, he knows how expensive they are, I mean he did buy them for you, so he undoes the little straps with care and sets them on the floor.

He'll caress you with his big hands and have you ride his thigh hiking your skirt up your hips so he can rest his hands behind his head and watch you moan and sob on top of him.

"You look so beautiful like this mein liebling, you're leaving quite the wet spot on me this time. How many times should I make you cum like this before I let you ride me."

He's cruel when he wants to be but it's all in good fun. He's spoil you afterwards.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Getting so worked up during a celebration for Price's birthday that Simon has to take you in the bathroom of the bar you are both at just so you'll calm down

"Just couldn't fuckin' wait till we got back, yeah baby?" Simon growls in your ear with his warm breath, lips close to the side of your head as you both stand cramped inside that tiny bathroom stall as he desperately works your cunt with his fingers. "My fuckin' needy little kitten, shit you're just grinding away on my thick fuckin' fingers, aren't ya? Needed it that bad?"

It wasn't your fault honestly, he knew what the liquor did to your libido and yet he let you have shot after shot to keep pace with the boys...I mean it was a celebration after all, but still.

If he didn't want to be knuckles deep between your petals he should have pulled the reigns long ago...and yet maybe this was what he wanted in the first place. It wasn't like he was dismissing your discrete advances all night, even taking you by the hand to the dingy bar bathroom himself.

Price's birthday wasn't always able to be celebrated, work did have to come first unfortunately, but it just so happened that everything fell into place this year and so the entire group gathered in the local bar to let go and have fun.

And here you were with Simon having you own extra bit of fun, though this one wasn't for sharing...

Using your bandana that you had worn in your hair tonight as makeshift cuffs, Simon had your hands tied behind your head so that you wouldn't be tempted to stop the work his fingers were currently doing down below to get you off.

It had to be quick and distractions wouldn't help.

"Sorry, baby," you whimpered, mouth agape as heavy breaths exited your lips. "Just fucking need you so bad sometimes I can't see straight. And you are just looking so good tonight...was having trouble not just riding you at the table."

Oh he was absolutely gonna give you hell for it, but there was no doubt that he loved every fucking second of just how needy you could get for him. Just hearing that lilting whine in your voice, begging and pleading with him to take you in any way, shape, or form he could sent him up the goddamn wall.

"They probably all know what we're doin' in here, ya know that sweetheart," he said, thick accent making your skin tingle and your clit throb. "They're probably chucklin' under their breaths about how we weren't slick at all, breakin' away from the group like that. I bet they're whisperin' about how you're fuckin' just takin' it all, whatever I give ya."

You shook your head, eyes closed as he slipped another large finger into your already soaked panties and up into your core. "Don't care," you breathed, "even if they call me a whore, they better put your name in front of it and I won't deny it."

The plan was just to get you off quick so that you could finish out the night with the gang and then take you back later to his to do you proper, but fuck the way his cock was straining against the fabric of his jeans that wasn't gonna be enough.

"F-fuck baby, why do you always feel so fucking good?" you again whimpered quietly, so far gone between the booze and your lovers fingers that sanity had left you completely.

You were just so fucking wet, looking so goddamn voluptuous with all those juicy curves, saying all the right things to make him fall apart. As much as he tried to stay sane, it wasn't working, so change of plans...otherwise he was gonna be a fucking mess and that just wouldn't do.

That's how it always went, didn't it? He should've known he could keep himself out of you; not even if he tried.

"Ya want me inside ya?" Simon asked hurriedly out of the blue, as if he didn't already know the answer, and instantly your eyes shot open as your heart nearly burst from your chest.

"God, yes," you answered without hesitation. "Please Simon, fill me to the brim..."

A quick scramble to undo his pants, buckle jingling and denim rubbing against itself as he shimmied the damned things down enough to release himself, his cock already hard and pulsating, needing to enter you now.

Using the toilet paper dispenser as a makeshift ledge, Simon picked you up and set you on it with a prayer that it would stay bolted to the stall wall long enough the he could get you both off before it broke. He hated that any part of you had to touch anything in here, who the fuck knew how clean it was, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Your thighs instantly locked around his hips as you waited for him to align the head of his cock with your entrance. "Gotta make this quick" he groaned, the head of his member slipping itself through your petals.

And there it was, the initial thrust that always split you open as you took every inch inside until he ran out of inches to give. Christ, how fucking amazing it was to be so full of him; that fucking girth was more than enough.

"G-god-d-damn," he choked out, his hands digging harshly into your hips as he clung on for dear life, trying to not cum so fast. "Your gonna be the fuckin' death of me sweetheart."

You were already soaked and he had no trouble slamming into you over and over again, his pace quick and intense as at any moment someone could come walking through the door and hear you two going at it like a couple of teenagers, screwing wherever the mood struck.

Over and over his cock thrust into your core, the wet sounds of skin slapping against one another music to his ears that only fueled his passions further. You were a dream, a fucking vision of lustful beauty, and the way you felt only matched.

What was he supposed to do, not be obsessed? Fuck that, you were the best goddamn thing to happen to the manky bastard and it made him absolutely crazy about you.

Shit the pressure felt divine as the angle of his penetration made certain to engage your sensitive clit as well. Mix that with the tingling in your limbs from the alcohol and you were already dancing dangerously close to the edge of your orgasm.

"Yes, y-yes," you repeated in increasing volume, breasts bouncing up and down against his chest as he pounded into you.

"That's it sweetheart," he praised, "come on. Let go for me baby."

The wall of the stall shaking, the creak of the paper dispenser beneath you, the relentless place of Simon's hips snapping against yours was all to much.

"Cum with me," you begged.

"I'm already there luv," he replied quickly, "just let go. Come on pretty girl, come on."

In and out, in and out of your tight cunt a few more times, his abs clenching as Simon's own orgasm popped off and you were gone, crying out as your body shook from the release of pressure like a least in the wind.

Shit you saw fucking stars with that one.

As you both rode out the end of your pleasure together, that's when you heard the door open and a pair of heavy booted footsteps cross the floor. Simon's large palm cupped over the entirety of your mouth to stifle the last of your orgasmic moans, his cock still buried within you as whoever it was went about their business, taking a piss as was evident by the sound.

The urinal flushed after a few moments, followed by footsteps to the sink. A quick wash and the both of you thought the coast would soon be clear and you'd be able to finish up and head out.

"Be sure and come back to join us when your done, yeah?" the voice of your captain sounded through the tiny room; you'd been caught red handed. "Would hate to see you two leave early...again."

Well fuck, guess the cat was out of the bag now. Simon chuckled as he leaned in and gave you a kiss as the door to the bathroom shut, leaving you two alone in silence again.

"Oops," Simon whispered against your lips before he planted another heavy, greedy kiss to them, "too bad I'm not sorry."