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#COD MWII
lovifie · 3 days
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Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.
CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷
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It's not his fault, it's yours. 
He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience. 
But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names. 
It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you. 
During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something. 
Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.
But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”
He didn't say it back, but he felt it more. 
Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die. 
He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level. 
More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced. 
But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win. 
He missed you. 
He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive. 
Maybe.
“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back. 
He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died. 
But he sees you.
The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced. 
Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his. 
“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”
You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart. 
“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true. 
“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”
There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.
“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”
“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last. 
He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again. 
This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive. 
But again, time goes by before meeting in person again. 
And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first. 
“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.
And he knows it's you. 
It gotta be. 
And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.
“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated. 
He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”
“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders. 
“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face. 
“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”
“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.” 
And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last. 
The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.
Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind. 
Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building. 
And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one. 
The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.
“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”
To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.
And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met. 
Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time. 
And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms. 
Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased. 
And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child. 
And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.
Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester. 
He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed. 
The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know. 
And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing. 
The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room. 
Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day. 
You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left. 
“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?” 
A son.
He had a son. 
He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed. 
He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.
And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.
The happiest night of his life. 
He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him. 
And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one. 
Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body. 
His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back. 
So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it.��
And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk. 
“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”
Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans. 
“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”
“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall. 
More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you. 
But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit. 
“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”
The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself. 
“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”
And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name. 
“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”
And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm. 
You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”
You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed. 
“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second. 
He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more. 
“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.
“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.
“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.” 
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Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are. 
Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.” 
“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”
He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.
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Taglist:
@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z 
@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 
@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121  @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock  
@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk 
@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat 
@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw 
@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting 
@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 
@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr 
@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @thatoneslvt 
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simonzmama · 2 days
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just ‘magining pretty plushed up plus!size reader takin a seat on her handsum manz
you hover, simon’s warm breath warming up the insides of your pretty thighs, knees digging dents into the cloud of his pillow that sits on either side of his head.
you can see the shine of his eyes peeking from between your legs when you recline back slightly. he raises his eyebrows, apples of his cheeks popped wide with the hidden grin that laces his lips.
“you gon’ sit or what, hun’?” simon quirks, eyes filled with nothing but lust. his pupils are blown wide, almost nothing but a black void that mirrors your reflection across ‘em.
your cheeks flush in a the deepest of pinks, n your eyes flicker nervously. “si… w-what if i’m too heavy?”
he almost misses your words, your soft, hot skin cupped around his ears. n although, simon’s tryna be patient, sweet, there’s a line thinning, his mouth watering as he almost forces you down.
yet, he just lets his thick fingers glide up the back of your thighs, fingers curling inward when they reach the wide of your hips. “too heavy?” it’s almost a snarl of disbelief, of complete n utter madness that you could believe something like that. “ya’ ain’t gonna crush me, baby, you’re funny for even thinking that.” he laughs, n the rush of air against your wet, sticky folds has your back perking n nipples hardening. “we both know i can take it, now sit.”
your mind wanders, he picks you up, tosses you, lets you sit on his dick till you are practically killin’ him… yeah, wtv he can def take it.
n so you comply, letting your knees slide slightly as you sit yourself down on his awaiting mouth. not fully though, mind still at doubt, yet you can definitely feel the way his tongue curls around your clit n the way he sucks the pretty pearl between his lips, rolling it every so softly between the whites of his teeth to have you gasping and thighs in a desperate hurry to close.
his arms snake around your thighs and with a harsh pressure, you’re forced down, till you can the angry press of his nose against your pubic bone. “i said sit, i can take it. i want it, baby, lemme have you.”
wanted sum pretty plushy belly action in here 😔
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shadow0-1 · 2 days
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Carepackage
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Soap: My nosy sisters found out I'm gay and they're upset with me because I never told them.
Ghost: Oh…
Soap: Yeah, they told my mum they had been “wasting their time looking for a woman when they could've found me a guy by now.”
Ghost: You don't need help with that.
Soap, sitting on Ghost's lap: I know.
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temeyes · 1 day
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quick simon (cuz i didn't wanna draw the stuff i actually have to draw,,)
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3archangelsaints · 12 hours
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Simon doesn’t like touch, and no one dares touches him. His history of sexual assault also meant he’s never pursued anything healthy sexual relations, and that’s fine with him. He doesn’t care.
So when he sees you and something urges him to ask you out, he doesn’t care that you say you’re waiting for marriage. I think it makes him feel safe with you, that you wouldn’t try to initiate anything with him.
But you’re also a very affectionate person, at least not so much in the beginning but throughout the months of dating him, he notices the way you subtly press closer. Especially after a hard day and you want to be comforted. You don’t push it, you know it’d push him away.
But then the one time you’d rather just be on your own, frustrated and mad, you come home surprised he’s there. You bump into him, “Sorry.”
And you’re changing out of your work clothes and into running clothes.
“It’s dark.” He states.
“Then come with.” And he does.
———
When you get home you shower first, before he showers, and you’re already in an old men’s shirt and shorts, bare feet padding around your house.
“Why are you with me?”
“I like you.”
“Are you sure? You don’t even hug me, or, or, hold my hand, kiss my cheek?” You say softly, stuttering from the emotions.
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you, to want to. Simon, not cause I want it, because you want to do it.”
He’s silent, which isn’t unusual, but he nods, looking down at you.
“I’ve never kissed anyone.” He admits. You sit on the kitchen counter, motioning him to come closer, he does.
His eyes crinkles, as he returns the gesture.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.” He leans in tilting his head and you lean in, hands in your lap, trying not to scare him off.
“You can put your hands on me.” You look surprised and smile bashfully, hands on his shoulders, he kisses you softly. When he pulls away he asks, “Can I hug you?”
“Yes.” He’s pressing himself into you, arms gingerly holding you. “Something happen?”
“Jus’ missed you.” He buries his head in your neck, his stubble tickling you.
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shadow4-1 · 6 hours
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I'm just imagining the absolute mayhem that would ensue if you promised a kiss to whichever 141 guy wins their mock FIFA tournament.
"I'll kiss the winner if it means you guys'll just shut the fuck up already n' play!"
The way Gaz and Soap would immediately fight over a controller. Ghost would white knuckle his grip and narrow his eyes at the TV. Price would scoff and walk out because, while he can play decently well, he's used to the older versions of FIFA. Also, if he really wanted a kiss from you he'd rather get it without an audience and all the fanfare.
Of course Ghost kicked everyone's ass, although Gaz certainly gave him a run for his money. With how intense he'd gotten throughout the game, you thought he'd want his prize immediately. Instead he just mutters something hungrily in your ear before he leaves the rec room.
You've fucked up big time.
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boowritess · 3 days
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very mild 18+ simon riley x reader
lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.
atleast to you.
when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.
he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.
he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.
he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.
he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.
it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.
even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.
but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.
it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.
he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.
"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.
around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.
Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.
"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.
"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.
Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.
he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.
'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'
image attached
Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.
Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.
he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.
just you and your simon.
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a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo
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27 / 1.7k / spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2
⬇ nsfw; mention of revenge porn
...
Gaz doesn't negotiate. He doesn't back down. When the situation calls for it, he knows when it's time to escalate.
That's why he fucks you on your dining room table instead of a public bathroom. Partly because he's not a slag. The idea of you possibly agreeing to do it--of giving him the same ammunition you gave your ex to humiliate you--leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Even if you started rumors and risked his reputation.
A growl rises in his throat at the thought of your ex having the gall to send him that video of you. Christ. What on Earth did you see in him?
Partly, though, he wants to fuck you in your own house so that when he next sees your prat of an ex-boyfriend, he can properly rub it in that fucker's face that you invited him in on the first date.
Or maybe he'll take a picture of your panties in his teeth. He hasn't decided yet.
You're strung out with pleasure, your bare back against the table. You’re caught between wondering why he wanted to fuck you after all and letting every last reservation about it vanish into nothing. You’ve always wanted this. You never thought it would happen.
"Sergeant," you gasp out. "Is this-- what about your reputation--?"
"Don't start." His fingers trail the lines of your body, his eyes fixed on the parts of you he caught only blurry glimpses of in your ex's video. It didn't do you justice.
He wants to pretend there's nothing to this besides convenience--you did owe him. Hell, you wanted to sleep with him. You always made that crystal clear. Now he's just allowing himself to give in to baser impulses like a dog snatching up a rabbit thrown into its path.
But you're right. This will look bad if someone finds out. He should worried, but it's hard to care about that when the thing competing for his attention is the filthy way your pussy swallows him again and again, seeing how slick you leave the base of his cock.
He should've used a condom. He knows for a fact you knew he didn't and you said nothing. He'd tell you off for it now, too, but he's absolutely certain it would just make you cum. The nerve of you.
His hips stutter for a second before he can banish that thought from his mind. He shouldn't like the idea of you being that obsessed. Acting like you'd do anything he asked. Christ, work would be a nightmare if this got out. Him actually sleeping with you. But then again, he suddenly doesn't much like the idea of you finding a different rebound. You'd just be thinking of him anyway, right? Wouldn’t you?
Whatever. He’ll deal with the fallout later. When he's not enjoying your body.
“Who’s going to know?” he murmurs, eyes falling to your chest. “Let it go.”
“Mkay,” you sigh out. There's nothing more you want than to please him right now.
"You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you." It's not a question. You both know it's true. And he likes that--he hates admitting it, but he does. His eyes drop to your pussy again, and his hips pick up their pace.
You've spent months flirting with him, teasing him about taking you to bed. Now you're getting everything you want. He's right. Why would you care one goddamn second about the consequences? “Anything.”
He hates how needy you sound when you say that. You're too trusting. He's taking advantage of you. Don't you get that?
His grip on your hips tightens, pushing into you more and more roughly. Your moans rise in pitch and he has to grit his teeth.
“Good." He says lowly. "Then you won't tell a soul about this, will you?"
"But--ah, ngh..." You bite your lip as he stops thrusting and grinds himself into you. You gyrate your hips, needing friction. "But people already think we're together."
“Do they? That’s a bold claim.” You're overestimating how many people believe silly rumors. Besides, it's hardly your concern anymore. He lays his palms flat on the table on either side of you, bracing himself. Your skin is so soft; your neck tempts him, but he restrains himself. "You're keeping your mouth shut from now on, yeah?"
You let out a sound of frustration as he slows even further. You try to push your hips harder against his. "Sergeant, please!"
"You want this, don't you?" His voice is chilled, but the heat in his eyes as he stares down at your bucking hips is hardly discouraging. "You'll want it again. You'll keep wanting it."
"Ugh, yes," you snap, squeezing your thighs fruitlessly around his toned waist.
"As long as you don't tell a soul about this, I’ll see to it that you get what you want," he growls. "Not your team, your friends, your stupid ex. No one."
You open your mouth to question him again, but he pulls away and snaps his hips hard into yours. Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a string of semi-coherent affirmations. Yes, you'll keep it quiet. Yes, you'll pretend none of this ever happened. Yes, you'll never use his name on base again. Anything he wants. Just don't stop.
"Good girl. Good girl..." Easy enough. Now that he knows how to get his way with you, you shouldn't be such a problem anymore. He can’t help but be a little greedy, though. "You're not going to fuck anyone else, either."
"Never!"
He grunts in approval. "And you'll never--and I mean never --try to get back with your ex. Understand? You'll stay away from him."
You writhe and plead, winding your arms around his shoulders. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the table, the muscles in his arms taut.
"Do. You. Understand?" His voice comes down on you like low thunder, all around you.
"Yes!"
"Good. I'll know if you do. Mm…" His breathing grows shallow. Your heat is impossibly tight, and tightening up even more. He squeezes your wrists. "You going to cum?"
"C-Can I?" you breathe out. "Please, can I cum?"
His hips stutter and he has to close his eyes for a moment. God, he's never been tested like this.
"Sergeant, please!"
"Cum," he says, the word short and sharp like gunfire. "Cum on my cock. Right now."
He presses his thumb to your clit and you wail, clenching around him like you haven't cum in weeks. Your body rolls, practically convulses, your head knocking against your dining table as you arch up. He lets out a snarl, not slowing down despite how painfully tight you squeeze him.
Once you come down from the high, his pace never slowing, your swollen core twitches and spasms with overstimulation. You cry out, but you make yourself stay in place. You want to keep making him feel good. You want to make him feel better than he ever has.
"Cum inside me," you pant out. "I-I'm on birth control. You can-- please--"
"You're a liar," he growls through clenched teeth even as he picks up his pace.
"I promise," you plead. Even if you're a liar, and you are, you're not lying about this. God, you want him to do it so bad you can feel yourself clench up again at the thought.
You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm when he pulls out, spilling his load across your chest and stomach instead.
You clench down on nothing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction even as your orgasm ebbs out of reach. You let your head fall back onto the table, your breathing heavy. You don't see his eyes running over you, deliberating.
"Sergeant?"
"Mm?"
"Do you maybe want my phone number?" Almost seems like a silly question. He has your address now anyway.
"Hm." He pulls away, picking up your discarded purse from the mess of clothes on the floor. He pulls out your phone and opens your texts, types in his number, and sends himself a quick message. Then he finds your conversation with your ex-boyfriend. His eyes narrow. The last texts exchanged were earlier tonight. And you started it. You told him you were out to dinner with someone else. Just to get a rise out of your ex. It obviously worked.
That's okay, he figures, opening the menu and blocking your ex's number. If there's one person he does want to know about this, it's that arsehole. Maybe now he'll stay away from you.
You sit up. "Kyle?"
His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. "Yeah?"
"Were you serious?"
"I was."
"Even about coming over again?"
"I mean every word I say.” He hands your phone back to you and begins to get dressed.
You watch him, grasping the edge of the table. "When will you be back?"
"My squad leaves on assignment tomorrow. Don't know how long it'll be." He zips up and grabs his t-shirt. "I'll text you."
"Right, right." You suppress a sigh. "Always got a job to do."
He slings his coat over his shoulder, then pauses. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but reach his hand out to your cheek. He runs the back of his finger over your jawline. Then he disguises the tender gesture by gripping your chin and pulling it up so you're looking him in the eye.
"Behave," he tells you, voice low. "No sleeping around. No flirting of any kind. Is that clear?"
Your heart pounds. You swallow and nod.
"Good," he says, holding your gaze a moment longer.
As he leaves, closing the door behind him, he curses himself.
This is not a good idea. What's he trying to do, fix you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn't going to end well. You're not good for him. But damn if he doesn't feel more satisfied than he has in years.
He has no choice. If he wants you to behave, he'll have to keep your eyes on him. Whether he’s on base or not.
...
part 1 / [part 2]
more Gaz / masterlist tag
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Forehead smooches 😘
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lovifie · 2 days
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Masterlist
Cw: mentions of alcohol, blowjob, Simon likes red lipstick.
Simon, and his civilian girlfriend that he was so afraid to introduce to his teammates.
He knows the men are great men, would (and he has) give his life to protect them. But he also knows that Johnny and Gaz with one too many drinks turn into a constant dick joke, enough to drive anyone away.
Still, tired of hearing the constant yapping from both sides to meet; surprisingly, it was Price the one who asked the most about “When are you going to introduce us to your missus, son?”, he finally agrees.
He tells you again and again that it's just a couple of drinks at a pub near base, nothing fancy, nothing especial.
You still knock the breath out of his lungs when you stand in the living room of your flat, twirling around for him. “What you think?” You say, his eyes instantly drawn to your red lips.
He looks you up and down, walking closer with a look you know very well, and he rests his hands on your hips, leaning closer. “Do we need to go? We can have fun here, dove.”
You look at him, surprised and offended. “Simon! Of course we do! It's literally your boss!” You remind him.
He groans, bending to hide his face on your neck, breathing your perfume in before standing back straight, holding your hand in his. “A’ight…”
Simon is overflown with pride when he walks with you hanging from his arm to the table where his team is. The pub is filled with military men, you can feel every single pair of eyes on you, but the massive man that calls you “lovie” and asks for back scratches is next to you, so not even discomfort can get to you.
The three men sitting down do a really good try to look at you up and down without getting caught, key word, try.
Simon introduces you to Johnny, Price and Gaz, guiding you to sit next to the last and him on the other side, shielding you from everyone else.
Simon leans back, heart beaming with pride when he sees how easy it is for you to steal everyone's attention, the three men looking at you with adoration.
It is easy to fall into a comfortable conversation, drinks passing by just as easy. His arm behind your back and his hand resting on your hip, his thumb caressing your skin over the thin material of the dress.
His eyes still locked into your pretty red lips, constantly moving as you talk to them, you pretty smile appearing again and again on your pretty face.
It's not too late that Price says to call it a night, talking about having to work the next day. He would never admit that he couldn't take it anymore with the way you would constantly look at Simon with hunger in your eyes.
And Price is nothing if not observant, because the moment Simon and you step inside your flat, you are pushing Simon into his armchair. Kneeling before him as you undo his belt.
“What are you doing, darling?” He asks, looking at you amused but still surprised with you taking the initiative.
“Cartwheels, Simon.” You say, finally undoing his pants to free his shaft. “What does it look like I'm doing?”
He chuckles, the laugh turning into a groan when you give a kitty lick to his tip, blood rushing south.
He can't peel his eyes away from your lips, even when he struggles to keep his eyes open. “I bet I can reach up to here.” You say, placing your fingertip at the base of his growing boner.
He pets your head, smiling to himself. “Whatever you say, dove.” He says, aware of the jaw ache his girthy dick is. But the look of determination on your face is enough to keep him from saying anything.
And it is not much longer, that you are bobbing your head up and down, easily taking him down your throat. He has his head thrown back, unable to hold it up anymore as he mumbles nonsense, his hand still resting on your head. He has his eyes closed hardly, trying to keep himself from coming so fast at the feel of your throat constricting his length. A futile attempt when you run your nails over his wide hips, making him buck them against your mouth, finally spilling deep into your mouth.
You finally pull back, licking your lips, satisfied with your attack. And with a smile on your face, you point to his softening dick, the imprint of your lipstick down at the base. “I told you I could.”
And when he looks down, his shaft reddish with the stain of your lipstick, but the clear mark down at the base has his groaning, the sight alone almost enough to get him going again.
Simon was afraid to introduce you to his teammates, but if the dates end up like today… he can wait to meet them again.
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@thatoneslvt
Taglist: @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z
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@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock
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@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen
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I've seen that t-shirt on pinterest and decided to draw it on graves........
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Thinking about....
Smitten Ghost who watches the pretty little thing across the bar, amazed at how someone so small can out drink he and Johnny combined.
Smitten Ghost who, after letting johnny shove bourbon down his throat all night, finally has the balls to approach you.
Smitten Ghost who is baffled when you look at him and immediately laugh because it "took him long enough."
Smitten Ghost who, much to his dismay, and Johnny's delight, allows you to pull him onto the dance floor.
"I don' dance, love."
"You do now, big guy"
Smitten Ghost who stands stiffly, sending death glares Johnny's way and wondering how in the hell he managed to get himself into this, as your pretty little body moves against his, causing his blood to rush south.
Smitten Ghost who's attention is immediately drawn back to you as you boldly cup him through his jeans, little hand squeezing him so perfectly, and a sly little smirk on those criminal fucking lips as you say,
"So, you going to give me a ride?"
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Hiii
First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖
Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶
Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌
Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?
Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥
Thank you a loooot. (*^3^)/~♡
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Do No Harm
After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.
AO3 Link
TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play
When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 
“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 
“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 
You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 
The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 
You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 
He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 
It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 
“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 
“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 
You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 
“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 
You smiled down at him, joking around,
“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 
“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”
“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 
You pitied him, winking cheekily, 
“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”
His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 
You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 
He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 
You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 
Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 
You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 
You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 
You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 
There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?
You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 
“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”
“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”
“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”
“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 
But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 
“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”
“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 
“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”
He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 
“You want me to stop? Hm?”
The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 
Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 
“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”
“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”
“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 
In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 
You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 
“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 
Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 
The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 
You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 
“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 
Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 
As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 
You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 
You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 
Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 
“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”
You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 
“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”
All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 
“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.
You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 
He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 
Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 
He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 
“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”
He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 
You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 
He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 
You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 
“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”
You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 
“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”
“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 
“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 
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Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.
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Rookie01: Lieutenant, is it true that this base is haunted?
Ghost: I don't think so. I've worked here for 187 years and I haven't seen anything.
Rookie01: ...
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simonzmama · 2 days
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mama your girl got her periods and i was wondering about what will simon do once his girl gets her periods PLS INDULGE ME MAMA
helllooo my angel!! hopefully this ain’t been sitting for too long for some reason i don’t get my lil inbox notifications 😒 tumblr… count your days.
alsooo cuzzz wtfff!! why’re we like synced rnn?? 🤞🤞 im also on period rnn n was gunna write a lil blurb thingy for it GIRL WHO ARE YOU. are you the person living under my bed rn or whaaaa??
anyways. cuz personally. simon would be a mf star. a real man when it comes down to your period.
feelin’ like you’d be so embarrassed to tell him, although his suspicions were already up when you weren’t gettin’ outta bed alongside him. n so when your pretty voice calls out his name, he’s so quick to make his way to you, he like deadass just magically appears at your side.
he could see your clear nervousness, with the way you dug your nails into your skin, picked at your fingernails all the tedious antics were uppppp!!
so when you pop the question of simon i need tampons… (or whatever you prettiez may use ofc!!) he’s rushing to the store. immediately.
n quite frankly he was not embarrassed one bit, he was more worried about you. he bought you a bunch of randooo snacks he knows you luvvv luvvv!! n he’s rushing home straight back to you!!!
“is there anything i can do to help, baby?” he looks at you all pretty n sweet, soo patient!! head cocking to the side n eyes big n wide so desperate to just make you feel better.
“just stay with me, don’t leave,” you murmur against the thick skin pumped with muscle at his shoulder, lips laying a soft kiss against it.
nnn when your cramps get ultra mega electric shock typaaa level, he’s suggesting you hop up onto his lap. whaaaa?? he did some research n a lil quick orgasm might help you out?? just take a quick ride, clothes n all or nahhh.
anyways nothin too special 😔 although simon would be the best best bessssttt!! n u were so thankful for it!!!
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