You are in bed, the moon high. Simon is home and beside you, pressed against your back.
You tried to sleep. You really did. But you were just so… uncomfortable. Every time you shifted, your sore breasts would too. And make it impossible to sleep. You don’t want to wake up Ghost, so you try to suck it up.
“Want to tell me why we are both up at three in the mornin’ without sleepin’ a wink, baby?” Simon asks, his voice gruff and thick from disuse in your ear.
You tense, not knowing he was awake—the movement makes your breasts hurt again. “Si,” you murmur, “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Well, lovie, every time you move—which is often—you let out a small huff of breath.” He says. “Should I be worried? I’m pretty sure I know my wif-“
“I’m fine.” You interrupt, hormones causing you to get angry. Regret washes over you and you shift to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He says softly in understanding. “I can help you with whatever it is. Please just tell me.”
You knew he was desperate. Simon? Saying please?
“I’m just… sore.” You admit. “I’m going to start my period soon. My hormones are going wild—which is no excuse—and my breasts hurt. It’s impossible to sleep.”
He nods, expresses softening further. “It’s alrigh’. Let’s just find you a more comfortable position.”
“I’ve already tried!” The sob tears from your throat. You regret it but can’t stop. “I’m so tired, Si! I just want to get rest…”
He doesn’t even flinch, reaching up with his big, calloused hand to stroke your cheek.
A few minutes pass like that in silence. Before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep. Simon grins softly and pulls you closer.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
black smoke seeped through the oven and the machine beeped dramatically. You rushed over to switch it off, coughing as the smoke weaved through your lungs.
The chicken was ruined, making you stare at it for a minute.
Completely burnt.
You almost laughed, as the smoke still curled lazily toward the ceiling.
Almost.
Because after everything that had gone wrong tonight, the blackened chicken felt less like a disaster and more like an insult.
The candles had melted hours ago. The flowers were beginning to droop. The fancy dress you'd put on at six o'clock had been exchanged for sweatpants sometime around nine.
And Simon still wasn't home.
No text, no call, nothing. As if he had totally forgotten about you.
You checked your phone again, 11:47 PM. " where are you simon..." you mumbled to yourself.
An unsettling ache settled in your chest and.....disappointment. Not because he late, not because he'd missed dinner but because the day meant something to you.
And now it was over.
You sank into one of the dining room chairs, staring at the untouched plates sitting across the room. Waiting, just like the plates were.
A lump formed in your throat. You grabbed a napkin and scribbled a note.
Three words.
Maybe next year.
You left it beside his plate and went to bed, still clutching your phone in one hand. just in case.
Simon got home at 3:16 in the morning. His shoulders slumped with something more than tiredness. his stomach sank the moment he entered the apartment.
The mission had gone sideways. Communication had gone down. His phone had died. All of them excuses.
Because none of them changed the fact that he'd missed it, again.
Simon made his way to kitchen but stopped right in his tracks. he stared at the set dining table, the candles which were now reduced pools of wax, the faint smell of something burnt and a note.
"Christ", he whispered to himself. Something twisted painfully in his chest as he picked up the note.
Read it once.
Then again.
Maybe next year.
The disappointment hurt worse than he could imagine. He let you down, and he hated himself for that.
Simon lowered himself into the chair opposite the empty one. The chair that should've been his. The chair you'd probably stared at all evening.
Waiting.
The realization made him feel sick as his eyes drifted toward the kitchen. The burnt food, the dishes, the effort. Every little detail you'd spent hours preparing.
For him. And he'd never shown up.
A sharp ache settled behind his ribs, the familiar kind. Guilt.
You blinked awake as bedroom door creaked. For a moment you thought you'd imagined the sound. Then you saw simon standing awkwardly in the doorway, still wearing his gear and looking exhausted and guilty.
Relief hit first, at least he was home. Then the anger followed, as heat crept up against the back of your neck. You turned away, trying to hide the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and pulled the blanket higher.
"I'm sorry.", Simon whispered, sounding truly sincere. And you hated that cause it made staying angry so much more harder.
"Phone died."
"Mission got extended."
"I tried.", he said finally ,voice breaking slightly.
Your throat tightened. "Do you know how many times I checked my phone tonight?", you accused him, on the brink of breaking down.
Simon didn't answer. Probably because he knew the answer didn't matter.
Eventually you sat up and the sight of him nearly stole the rest of your anger.
He looked exhausted, bruised and worn down. my poor baby. But that wasn't fair cause you were allowed to hurt too.
"I waited." ,you whispered as your voice cracked.
"I kept thinking you'd call."
"I kept making excuses for you.", you sighed.
"I know.", simon whispered.
You finally broke down, damn tears. "I just wanted one night.", you sobbed looking absolutely heart broken. Cause you were.
Simon looked like you'd hit him ,his throat bobbing up and down. Then he approached you, slowly.
Then Simon reached into one of his pockets and pulled something out with his shaky hands.
It was a small, battered envelope.
"What is that?", you sniffled, wiping your tears.
His eyes stayed fixed on it.
"The card.", he whispered.
"What card?"
"The anniversary card."
You frowned as you looked at the tattered piece of folded paper.
Simon gave a weak laugh. "I've been carrying it around for two weeks....just didn't have it in me love. I'm not as strong you think i am."
Your chest tightened as he handed it over.
The envelope was bent, creased and worn from being shoved into gear and pockets. Inside was a handwritten message, three pages long.
His arms came around to hold you in the tightest embrace ever. As if he was afraid his mistake would cost him you.
You stared at the letter and then back at him.
"You wrote three pages?", you looked at him with teary eyes.
His ears turned slightly red, "It's not the point."
A laugh escaped through your tears. Oh how you loved him.
The corner of Simon's mouth twitched at the tiny success. Then he reached over and brushed away a tear, his thumb lingered.
"I know I missed dinner.", The humour disappeared.
"And I know I ruined tonight."
"But if I get another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
You stared because that sounded suspiciously close to a promise and Simon Riley didn't make promises lightly.
Eventually you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his shoulder.
"i love you", he whispered as he tilted your face up and kissed away your tears.
Fat Reader crying because theyre insecure about their weight, and when Simon, the man Reader's been pining on for months confesses to them, they think its a cheap joke, and degrade themselves, saying "You can't even pick me up!"
Simon somehow gets Reader's number (Reader did NOT give it) and sends a video of Simon hip thrusting double Reader's weight with sweet groans, the outline of his bulge straining, clearly imagining Reader was on top of him.
Simon Riley! Who doesn’t know how to feel horny; not after he’s pushed it down for so long.
Simon Riley! Who’s scared to admit he craves intimacy, scared that it will make him weak.
Simon Riley! Who has to take five to deal with his boner when you make him coffee—after noticing he was tired—because he hasn’t had any type of love shown to him in ages.
Simon Riley! Who thinks anything outside of vanilla makes him a horrible person; irredeemable by his own brain.
Simon Riley! Who cries the first time you two have sex, overwhelmed with love so foreign to him.
Wait for me
How they act just before they leave for deployment
TF141 x Reader Headcannons
for anon 🐚🧸
a/n: thank you so much for the requests, I'm so glad you enjoy my COD fics!! Keep the requests coming; they give me so much inspo!! Much love, Void <3.
Captain. John Price
John always hated the countdown to a deployment date. The final weeks always seemed to bleed away far too quickly. He did his absolute best to shield you from the impending departure, wanting to protect your heart for as long as he possibly could, but you always knew. You could read the signs perfectly: the embraces that lingered just a fraction too long, the sudden flurry of extra kisses ‘just because,’ and the heavy, intense way he would stare at you.
That last one was the hardest to bear. It felt like he was memorizing you, carving every tiny detail of your feature into his mind as if he were preparing to never see you again. As if this morning might be the last time he ever looked at your face.
“Stop it,” you whispered, cutting through the quiet morning air.
You were both tangled deep in the sheets, but the weight of his gaze had become too heavy to ignore. John had been staring at you since the moment you both woke up. A warm smile was plastered on his rugged face, but his eyes completely gave him away—they were tinged with a deep, aching sadness. He was leaving late tonight. Six months away, maybe longer.
“Can’t a man just admire his beautiful, sexy, amazing wife?” he asked, his voice a playful, teasing rumble. He pulled you flush against his massive frame, nuzzling his face into your hair to hide his expression.
“Hmm, he can,” you retorted, turning over so your back was pressed against his chest. He let out a relaxed, heavy sigh, his large arms locking securely around your waist. You swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing. “…But it’s when you stare at me like you’re never coming back, John. That's what I can't take.”
The air in the bedroom shifted instantly. The playful facade dropped entirely.
He didn't say a word, but you felt his entire body go rigid against yours. Slowly, he pulled you even tighter against him, burying his nose deep into your hair. The familiar, comforting scent of your shampoo filled his senses as he pressed a row of soft, desperate kisses against your crown.
“I know, pet. I know,” he whispered against your skin.
The rough, vulnerable edge in his voice was the final straw. Your heart broke, and the tears you had been fighting so hard to restrain finally spilled over. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to choke back a quiet sob.
He caught the sound instantly. John shifted, gently but firmly turning you over to face him. His large, calloused palms cupped your cheeks, wiping away the moisture with his thumbs, forcing your tear-filled eyes to meet his.
“Hey, hey, hey… shh,” he cooed softly, his tough exterior melting completely.
He pulled you back into the solid warmth of his chest, burying your face in his shoulder. He rocked you slightly, his large hand tracing soothing, slow circles down your back while you quietly wept into his skin, holding onto his shirt like a lifeline.
You stayed like that for what felt like hours, until the sheer exhaustion of the grief finally took over and you passed out, wrapped securely in his arms.
As the room fell silent again, John lay awake in the dim light, watching you sleep. A bitter, heavy guilt began to fester deep in his chest. He hated the pain he put you through, completely cursing the selfishness that had allowed him to drag you into his dangerous, broken world in the first place. He absolutely hated it.
-
Simon Riley
Simon had been entirely on his own for a massive chunk of his life. He had adapted to a brutal, solitary lifestyle long ago, operating under a strict rule: never say goodbyes. That was the whole point of his existence. He was a ghost in the wind—untraceable, unattached, and free to move across the earth as and when the military needed him to pull a trigger.
That was until you crashed into his life.
Simon doted on you more than life itself. You were the absolute light of his world, a sacred reality he cherished far more than you would ever truly know.
Because of that intense devotion, you always knew when a deployment was looming on the horizon. He would inevitably retreat into himself, his quiet nature turning into a dense, impenetrable wall. He became miles away in his own head, his physical presence nothing but a shell. At the start of your marriage, it had been a deeply painful process to endure; it felt like you were losing your husband before he had even left the house. But as time went on, you realized this was just Simon’s way of preparing himself. He was shifting his mindset into the lethal SAS soldier—a dark, hardened side of him he never, ever wanted you to see. Simon never spoke about his military life with you, fiercely protective of the only pure thing he had left. He refused to let the horrors and dirt of his world taint you.
It was late in the night when you stirred awake, the sudden lack of warmth beside you causing you to open your eyes. You noted the empty space on your husband's side of the bed, a soft, heavy sigh escaping your lips.
Climbing out of the warm sheets, you quieted your footsteps and went to find him.
He was standing out on the balcony of your shared apartment. The glowing ember of a cigarette illuminated his sharp jawline as he stared absentmindedly into the distance, completely lost in the dark expanse of the night.
You stepped out into the bitter midnight air, shivering slightly as you closed the distance between you. Carefully, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist from behind, nestling your face directly into the broad, solid expanse of his back.
“Go back to bed, dove. It's late,” he murmured. His voice was incredibly gruff, rough with exhaustion and the smoke coating his throat. He didn't turn around, but his body automatically leaned back into your touch.
You cut him off, letting out a soft hum and shushing him gently as you pressed a row of tender kisses right between his shoulder blades. “This might be one of the last times I’ll get to hold you like this for a while. Please, just let me.”
Logically, you knew he was coming home. He always did. But that tiny, intrusive part of your mind that constantly feared the absolute worst wouldn't let you rest until you held him as if it were the last time.
A heavy, defeated sigh escaped his lips. He immediately stubbed out the cigarette, chucking the extinguished bud away before turning around in your embrace to face you. Without a word, he opened his massive arms and wrapped them securely around you, pulling you flush against his chest to shield your smaller form from the biting night air.
“Don't be silly, dove,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling register. A faint, rare trace of humour touched his lips. “Won't be that easy to get rid of me. You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”
He joked, but the sheer, crushing tightness of his grip betrayed his playful words. He held you with a desperate sort of strength, his muscles locking you against him as if he were trying to force his body to permanently remember exactly how perfectly you fit against him.
Your journey together had never been an easy one. It was plagued by distance, silence, and the constant shadow of war. But as you buried your face in his neck, listening to the steady, reassuring thud of his heart, none of that mattered in the slightest. The bond you shared was so potent, raw, and deep that it felt like far more than a marriage. It was a soul tie—one that not even the ghost of war could break.
-
John Soap MacTavish
Johnny never liked to be serious; that was the exact thing that had drawn you to him in the first place—his innate ability to find the light in absolutely any situation. He could make you laugh no matter how dark things got, possessing a bright, chaotic personality that was honestly more fitting of a teenage boy than a grown soldier. But you loved every single piece of him. Even when the dark loom of his inevitable deployment date rolled around, it never felt like a sad, emotionally heavy day. Instead, Johnny made sure it was a day filled with infectious laughter, cozy cuddles, and love. So much love.
Johnny absolutely hated to see you cry, much less if he was the reason for it. He’d gone as far as to dramatically claim that the mere sight of your tears would be enough to make him desert the force and go completely AWOL just to stay by your side.
It was the night before he was scheduled to leave, and you had spent the vast majority of the day basking in each other's quality time. Johnny had spent hours catering to your every single need, pampering you as though you were the one leaving for months at a time rather than him.
Currently, the two of you were lying tangled together under the sheets, completely bare and locked securely in each other's embrace. His rough, calloused hands slowly traced the contours of your skin, mapping out your body as if marking every curve and slope with his touch.
“Jesus, it baffles me what I ever did to land a beauty like you,” he purred playfully, staring down into your eyes with absolute, unadulterated adoration.
You let out a soft laugh at his remark, playfully rolling your eyes, but Johnny didn't stop there.
“I mean it, lass.” his tone shifted, growing a little more serious as he reached up to gently play with your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “You are the absolute best thing to ever happen to me, and it breaks my heart having to leave you.”
“Then you just make sure you come home to me, mister,” you teased softly, leaning up to place a quick, reassuring kiss right on the tip of his nose. You didn't want your last moments together to be weighed down by sadness, and you knew he didn't either.
A familiar, wicked smirk instantly spread across his handsome face at your challenge. “Aye, that’s right, lass. Someone’s got to come back and save you from your own shite cooking.”
The comment earned an audible gasp from you, and you immediately smacked his broad shoulder. Johnny only laughed—that bright, echoing sound you loved so much—before taking your face tenderly into his large hands. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate pressure, savouring the taste of you for as long as humanly possible.
You stayed locked away from the world like that for the rest of the night. The warm, golden light from the candles surrounding your cosy bed flickered over your bare bodies as the playful banter melted into something deep, raw, and desperate, making love straight into the early hours of the morning. It was a proper send-off—a goodbye kiss like no other.
-
Kyle Gaz Garrick
Kyle hated the thought of being torn away from you, but he knew it was part of the job. In all honesty, he had never cared about the looming departure dates before you were in his life; in fact, he used to look forward to them. He had lived for the military, craving the action and the next mission. But the novelty of the uniform and the deployment cycles completely wore away the second you came into his life and uttered the words ‘I do.’ He was a remarkably rational, level-headed man—qualities that had rightfully taken him far in the SAS—but around you, that cold sense of military clarity completely vanished.
You always knew his next deployment date was right around the corner because your doting husband would suddenly start buying you copious amounts of flowers. Beautiful, vibrant bouquets quickly lined every single vase in the house, accompanied by expensive presents and spontaneous reservations at the most elegant restaurants in the city.
Tonight, you had just come home from a gorgeous sunset dinner at a high-end restaurant. As you walked through the front door, Kyle followed closely behind you, carrying yet another large, breathtaking bouquet in one hand and the boxes for the new designer heels he had gifted you specifically for tonight's occasion in the other.
He set the items down on the entryway table before immediately turning his full attention to you. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he leaned down to kiss you long and deeply. Your hands instinctively found the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his short hair as you pulled him even deeper into the kiss.
“You really don't have to do all this, Kyle,” you cooed sweetly against his lips once you finally broke apart, your foreheads remaining rested together. “I know you’re leaving soon, and I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl, after all.”
“I know,” he growled out softly, a low rumble against your skin as he ignored your logic entirely, choosing instead to leave a burning trail of kisses right down the sensitive line of your neck. A burst of breathless giggles escaped your lips at the sensation.
“Kyle! Come on, I'm being serious,” you laughed, playfully swatting at his shoulder but keeping your hands firmly anchored on his chest, needing to feel his solid warmth close to you.
He let out a soft sigh, his playful demeanor melting away into something incredibly grounded. He placed a large, warm hand against the side of your face, his deep brown eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.
“You want to know what gets me through those dark nights out there?” he asked, his voice dropping to a soft, vulnerable register as his thumb sweetly stroked your cheek.
You could only hum in response, biting your lower lip as a tender smile threatened to tug at the corners of your mouth.
“That smile,” he said, the words barely above a whisper. His expression was filled with such complete, unadulterated adoration as his thumb gently swiped over your plump lips, memorising the shape of them.
You froze for a moment, his answer completely taking you aback. There was something about the utter simplicity of it that felt so incredibly surreal and raw; you could tell he meant it from the absolute depths of his soul. The rational, elite soldier was completely at your mercy.
Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his love, you pulled him down into a fierce hug, holding him tightly against you as hot tears began to well up in your eyes. You buried your face in his shoulder, your fingers stroking the back of his neck with ultimate tenderness.
“I love you,” you choked out, the emotion tightening your throat.
Kyle wrapped his strong arms securely around your back, burying his face into your hair as he squeezed you against him. “I love you too, baby.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Thinking about poly!141 and reader and how they all got together.
Like it probably started with Price - you've been married a few years, together for longer and you've each had your own partners together and separate.
Hell Price was probably dating Nikolai for a good while and even brought him home to you to share more than a few times.
You had your own girlfriends and boyfriends - but nothing ever lasting. Nothing permanent like John is. Not a another husband or wife or life partner.
Until he brings Kyle home.
Kyle with his sweet smiles and big puppydog eyes you have a really hard time saying no to.
Kyle who makes you feel giddy and sweet like when you and John were teenagers. He likes to do things for you, cook dinner, flowers, hell he'll clean the house not because you asked but because he genuinely wanted to and he knows you've been working overtime this last week. And for some reason likes deep-cleaning the house in a way you and John don't. Acts of service is his love language.
Kyle who can and will happily keep his face buried in your cunt while John fucks you to the point of ruin because he's very good at wringing orgasms from you with just his mouth.
Kyle who's absorbed into your little life with John perfectly and who both of you have no intention of ever letting go.
(it also makes you sleep better knowing they're watching each others back while deployed)
Then comes along Simon.
Simon who starts out as Ghost and isn't there as a partner but as a friend who's still healing and figuring out how to be human again.
He's there when Price can coax him over so he's not spending leave totally alone. Who starts awkwardly fixing stuff around the house as a simple wordless thank you for keeping him around and feeding him.
Ghost who comes by to check on you when he happens to be home and John and Kyle are not and takes you grocery shopping or to doctors appointments and other errands because he doesn't want you driving around by yourself.
Ghost who slowly turns into Simon after spending more and more time with you at the house and in the kitchen - helping cook and bake and having afternoon tea together when John and Kyle are busy.
Ghost/Simon who will pin you down and make you scream his name while John and Kyle watch and coo at your tears.
It's Ghost who fucks it up by intentionally leaving you all behind and nearly breaking your heart. But it's Simon who comes back to apologize. And Simon who stays.
Simon and you slowly wooing each other over tea and books and terrible jokes because yes you laugh at every single one and it only encourages him to make more on and off the field.
Simon who now clings to you at night when it's just you two at home. You don't mention how hard you're also clinging to him, scared now he'll disappear too.
And Simon who brings Johnny home.
Simon and Johnny have their own thing going for a while and it takes the Scotsman slightly longer that it should have to realize you're all together.
Johnny who starts with Simon while on the way back from Mexico, and then is tossed into bed with both Simon and Kyle.
(literally. Simon literally scruffs Kyle and tosses him into Johnny's room and tells him to get his mouth to work if he knows what's good for him)
Johnny really can't complain after that night.
Johnny who's then dragged home to you by Simon and Kyle and it's love at first sight when you greet him with a smile and a homecooked meal of something he hasn't had in years.
He doesn't know how you know it's a favorite dish of his, but he's ready to propose to you that night by that time dinner is done.
You laugh and press a kiss to his lips and tell him you want him to stick around then if that's the reaction to just your cooking.
A few more choice words and some of the best sex Johnny has ever had and he's already decided to buy you a ring.
(He knows you're legally married to Price but that doesn't stop him. It doesn't stop Simon or Kyle either actually)
They all go out with John at some point in their relationship to pick out specific and meaningful jewelry for you from each of them - not engagement rings exactly, but each piece is beautiful and absolutely customized with the date each of them met you for the first time.
Each time John goes out with them he picks out another band to add to your bridal set as well. You now have four unique wedding bands nestled around your engagement ring. The original matching diamond band for John. A thin band of gold and silver twisted together for Kyle. A traditional gold band for Simon that matched the silhouette of John's. A band of hammered out silver for Johnny.
Kyle finds a gold ring and pendant set with all of yours and the boys birthstones set into tiny starbursts. Yours is always placed in the middle and surrounded by the rest of them just like you are at home. It rests just above your heart when you wear it.
Simon claims your right ring-finger with something that may actually count as an engagement ring. It's not as flashy or obvious since it's not a diamond, but the oval blue jade is set into a halo of emerald cut diamonds making it look bigger. But it comes with matching earrings and a necklace - and you like to wear the whole set when out to dinner with him.
Johnny finds someone making jewelry at a outdoor market and finds a matching set of sporran key bands with gold and silver accents that he buys immediately and pays extra to have resized to fit your right pointer finger and his left ring finger.
You loved all of them, grinning and giddy each time your little collection grew.
And you didn't just mean the jewelry.
~*~*~*~
edit: for the one person asking about the rings lol
It took only a week for the rest of the team to rescue you and Ghost. But those seven days had done more damage than any of them were prepared for. What happened between you and Ghost during those seven days, the outcome of it.
Soap was the first one to see you two. Kicking down the door, with the strength usually only found in alphas, and barging into the holding cell where the two of you were being held. He didn't lower his gun until his eyes landed on Ghost. Soap didn't yet register the fact that Ghost had his back to him. That Ghost hadn't bothered to turn around to see what all the commotion was about, or maybe he was guarding something from the commotion.
"Ghost-" The relief that was in Soap's voice immediately shrivels up as a rough dangerous growl comes from the other man. Soap has never feared Ghost. Never thought that the man could bring him any harm. But at that moment Soap knew that if he got any closer, he'd be in danger. Cause at that moment, it was obvious to Soap what had happened. He curses under his breath.
Ghost had his body curled around yours, caging you in between himself and the wall. From what Soap could see of you, which wasn't much with how Ghost was shielding you with his body, you didn't look good. You didn't even seem to be responsive, which was worrying. He could only hope that Ghost wasn't guarding a dead body.
"Capt'!" Soap called out as the sound of gunfire dies down into silence. "Did you find Ghost and Feral?" Price shouts back. It doesn't take long for Price and Gaz to find where Soap was. "We've got an issue." Soap doesn't look away from you two as he speaks. Price goes to take a step closer, and another threatening growl rips from Ghost's throat. Price stops mid step. "...I see." Soap nods. "He fuckin' bonded with them."
he spends hours in the gym, especially in the morning, after getting barely three hours of sleep. getting up early to go for a jog, before coming home, lifting weights and deadlifting ‘til he's shirtless, sweaty with only his sweat shorts on. he grunts lowly and quietly, breathing heavy and laboured, putting down his weights as he wipes his forehead, heading towards the shower.
although, something caught his eye. you, only in a pretty pair of lace panties and an oversized t-shirt, bound to be simon's as it draped over your body, the smell of his cologne noticeable as he took a step closer. he found himself against you, bent over the kitchen counter and whimpering at simon's perverse touch. his breath hitching in his throat, and pressing himself behind you with his hard bulge against your cunt.
he's so musky; droplets of sweat running down his brute, burly chest and forehead, his hair messy and tangled, with his lips on your neck, and hands gripping your hips and waist firmly to hold you in place. he pushed and rocked his broad hips against you, the only thing covering his crotch being his sweat shorts. simon grinded his aching cock against your barely covered sex, humping you and sucking hickeys onto your supple neck while you whimpered out and moaned breathlessly, his scent prominent and sweat assaulting your nostrils, creating an even wetter mess in your panties.
simon pushed his hips against you, rubbing and grinding his clothed length back and forth, the friction causing him to groan out painfully, the tightness in his balls overwhelming and overstimulating.
“keep still, princess’... c’mon, that’s my girl, dollface.” simon's slightly rough, large hands run up your shirt, cupping your waist and your breasts, kneading the fat and flesh on your body as he continued to rub his now drooling, wet dick against the outline of your cunny.
simon's grumbles out, a guttural and hoarse grunt emitting from deep in his chest as he feels himself getting even closer. the sounds of your pleasure and delirium send him over the edge; gritting his teeth together and panting, his sore cock leaking and spurting ropes of white, hot cum, cumming in his tight boxers. :(
