#cod mw2

what happens to simon riley when you're ovulating (his dick would fall off if it were me tbh)

your sex life with simon is already active as is, so the moment you start ovulating, he's in trouble. serious trouble. you can barely keep yourself off of him. everything he does sends a throbbing want to your pussy.

manspreading? you're already on top of him, tugging his jeans down just enough to ride his heavy cock. his big hands find purchase on your hips, grunting lowly.

"fuckin' eager, huh?" he's only half hard by the time you're bouncing on him, and you don't get off until either of you can't speak, and you've ruined yet another pair of his jeans from the amount of slick and cum that stains the fabric.

rolling up his sleeves, seeing the way his forearms and veins flex? you're begging him to finger you, and he gladly listens.

"need me t'fuckin' fill ya full, don't ya?" bent over whatever surface of your house, stuffed full of his fingers knuckle deep as your walls clench around him. one orgasm isn't enough, two, three, four, five until you're babbling incoherently and spraying the front of his shirt with your release.

the thing men do when they reverse, placing one hand behind the passenger seat? belt, GONE. you make hasty work of his jeans just so you can suck his dick as he drives—bonus points if he's still reversing. half-way laid across the center console with a face-full of his throbbing cock, already leaking pre. he's a mess, whimpers spilling from his lips as he bites down on the plush flesh. he's pulling your panties to the side, burying three fingers deep in your cunt with ease at the sheer wetness of your pussy.

him, reading with glasses? you bet he isn't taking his eyes off a single page as he ruts into you from behind, book laid across your back slick with sweat. he might be a little mean, make you fuck yourself back on his dick, balls slightly slapping your clit enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. get a drop of cum on his book, and he'll punish you.

getting passionate about his interests? fuck in missionary so he can continue yapping as he toys with your clit and pounds into your throbbing cunt. his words are long lost on you—you don't even notice when his words start getting condescending.

"always gettin' in m'pants..." he grunts, the sound of skin slapping and mindless whimpers and mewls fill the room, "fuckin' slut, you tryin' to get pregnant? want me t'fill you? dirty whore..."

Simon turned so quickly towards you, frowning as if personal offence was done to him.

“Wot?”

“Give some to me. I'll hold it.” you said, trying to coax him into it with a sweet smile he could never refuse.

“I can hold em' lovie.” he shrugged, making a show of lifting five and three bags on each hand in his argument.

Like you didn't believe Simon could, that man could lift a truck with the strength in his arms.

It wasn't about that, but—

“I wanna hold your hand, si, that's why.”

“Oh.” Simon whispered, cheeks brightening a deep pink and slowly he raised the bags but didn't give them to you.

You stared, as he transferred all of them to his other hand and took yours with a shy smile.

“cold, eh.” he said, tangling his warm sweaty fingers between your cold ones.

“You're warm.” you smiled, leaning forward as you walked to see the bulk on his other hand looking comedically huge.

“Course' I am,” Simon said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles before deciding to put your joined fist inside his jacket pocket.

A grin, warm and golden spread all over you, mischief sparking up, “I can still hold the bags.”

“Shut up, love.” he said, lifting eight of them high in air to show that he could.

“I make my boyfriend hold eight bags, eight of em'”

Simon' face reddened, 'my boyfriend' always did that to him.

“Ya' can make up for it later.” he squeezed your hand in his grasp, lips curling into a sweet smile.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

You walked towards your husband Simon who suddenly had a green apple on his hand.

"Yes honey?" You tilted your head, smiling gently.

"imma take a shower, want to join me?"

Ghost slowly blinked at you, and putting the apple aside while walking towards you he said calmly.

"There's a gun hidden in the attic for emergency purposes, if I ever say no to that question I want you to use it on me"

He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and looking down at you with quiet tenderness when he saw your cheeks turn red and smile bashful up at him.

"mhm, okay" you giggled happy, overly flattered and charmed by that handsome smirk.

sometimes, waking up married to simon hurts, not because he did anything, but because he isn’t even there half the time. always off at war, serbia, colombia, leaving you with an empty space beside you and your hands curled around one of his t-shirts.

it smells like his body spray, smells like his sweat, smells like him, and some nights being cuddled up with that is enough.

but when he’s at home, it’s completely different, like tonight, you barely heard him come in and slip under the covers, and it’s 6am when your alarm goes off.

you feel his big hands splayed over your belly, big arms around your waist. “mmm, gotta wake up si-“ you mumble, knowing your husband’s scent of sandalwood and lynx body spray. and the way he breaths, all deep and snug in your skin, and the way his hands fit so carefully around your hips.

“can’t we just sleep in?” his voice is all gravelly with sleep, his stubble nipping against your ear, hair still a little spikey with the hair gel he refuses to take off.

“fine.” you nestle backwards into his arms, feeling his breath hitch as you feel  his hands tense up. 

“fuckin tired love-“ he starts, but you can almost see him going red, feel the heat on his face, and you stretch your arms and legs, cuddling into him a little closer.

“mmhp?” you yawn, scratching his ears behind you, you can feel something poking into your your lower back, but dear lord are you not worrying about that until later.

 you feel him turn your body to face him, see your husbands face after months of seeing photos of the mask. the scars on his face have increased, but you still look at him like you saw him for the first time.

“good morning mr riley.” you say, softly.

Simon hovers above you, his soft eyes burning against your skin, scanning your face to watch for signs of discomfort as his fingers work your pussy. You moan softly when his digits curl inside you, hitting a spot you didn’t even know was there, his thumb circling your clit at the same pace his thick fingers slide in and out of you.

You cover your mouth, embarrassed by the fact that he can feel how wet you are for him despite how inexperienced you are, but he quickly pulls against your wrist, softly placing your hand on his chest instead. Your fingers curl against his skin, nails digging in ever so slightly, all while your body reacts by lifting your hips, squirming around underneath him, begging him for something you’ve never even had.

“Don’t hide from me lovie,” he whispers, voice low and rough around the edges, desire evident regardless of how slow he has to be with you.

You nod, gazing up at him, allowing yourself to feel the way he pleasures you. His calloused fingers slide through your walls, rubbing you inside and outside with his thumb on your sensitive bundle of nerves. All of it is new to you, every single last feeling he is pulling out of you is something you have never experienced.

When he pulls his fingers out, you whimper from the loss of friction, but he quickly takes your mind off of that by sliding his cock through your folds. His head leaks precum against your pussy, and he smears it against your clit before slapping it against you gently. Your body jerks from the feeling, a whine ripping from your throat from the harsh contact somewhere so sensitive, but you wish he will do it again.