#bestfriend!simon

[vampykween]

bestfriend!simon who drives you out of the city, far enough that you can really see the twinkling stars. he whips out a little gift for you: a cd mix of all the songs that remind him of you and tucked inside is a little explanation for each song. you’re not sure how you managed to snag the most romantic guy ever, but you’ll never complain <3

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: pantie stealing and sniffing, masturbation, Simon has a crush on you, kinda softie! Simon

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who felt guilt pooling in his chest as he fisted his leaking cock violently, a pair of your pink frilly thongs that he pinched from laundry basket in you house was pressed against his nose, inhaling lungfuls of your soury scent. Bright blush covered his normally pale cheeks, honey-coloured eyes rolling back as Riley’s back arched, series of low groans and stifled moans slipping past his lips as hot cum shot out of his overstimulated cock, landing in small puddles on his pubic and tummy.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who could barely look you in the eyes the whole next week out of sheer shame and embarrassment, brushing you off whenever you tried talking to him. You pouted, not getting such wanted attention from your older brother’s broody best friend, just clicking your tongue as he openly ignored you, finally giving up and turning around on your heels, marching off to your room, snacks and mug of tea in your hands. If only you could see Simon’s eyes lingering longingly on the soft slope of your ass, trying to burn the image in his brain, you small booty shorts doing nothing to hide delicious plumpness of it.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who clenched his teeth tightly, breathing deeply through his nose to try and control himself as you sat on an arm of the armchair he was settled in, drunkenly babbling about some new movie you’ve been meaning to watch. He desperately tried not to look at your tits as you leant against the back of that damned armchair, your chest poking out of the deep cut of your crop top barely ten centimetres away from Simon’s head, basically inviting him to bury his face in beautiful softness of your boobs. But he just gripped his beer tighter, looking strictly in front of him and nodding absentmindedly at your words, subtly shuffling his hoody down to hide a growing tent in his pants.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon on whom you can always count. You need a drive back home after going out for drinks? He’s grabbing his car keys and telling you he’ll be there in a few minutes. Some weirdo has been bothering you at work/uni? Simon is discreetly asking bastard’s name as to not rise any suspicions in you, just to have a little friendly chat with him a bit later, making sure to break duchebag’s nose so he doesn’t stick it into your business anymore. There’s something off with your car and you need to get it fixed? How good that Simon is a handyman, bringing your car back to life not worse than any mechanic would (and he’s definitely not flexing his stupidly big biceps while doing it).

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who knew better than to make a move on you. He knew you liked him, and he liked you too (more like was totally obsessed). But he valued his best friend too much, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t appreciate it if Simon fucked his little sister.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who realised that he was absolutely, utterly, totally fucked as he watched you and your older brother roughhousing around the kitchen, bickering and play-fighting - your smile was so bright and warm, making him feel hot like sun in the middle of August, your loud laughter made his chest buzz with something soft and Riley felt as if he was about to pass out because of the flow of softness he felt for you that moment. Soon your eyes met his, mischievous smirk curled your pretty lips as you threw a pillow at him, surely dragging Simon into your little brawl, creating a huge mess for which all three of you will surely get a good scolding from your mom.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who tried to distance himself from you because you deserved more than him. He genuinely did try to ignore all your soft smiles and fleeting touches, the way you batted you pretty eyelashes as you listened to him explaining something to you or the way you would nibble on your bottom lip as your eyes wandered up and down his torso as he wore one of his compression shirts. Simon did try his best to save you from himself, but all of his resolve vanished completely and utterly the moment you got brave enough to stand to your tippy toes and press a tentative kiss to his chapped lips.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who scooped you up in his arms, giving you no chance to escape as he deepened the kiss, moaning quietly into your mouth as you let his tongue in, greedy hands roaming up and down your body, feeling all the curves and dips of it - just like he dreamt of doing past few years. Simon barely registered pressing you against the wall, meaty forearms boxing you as his torso pressed against yours, grinding his boner against your tummy, goosebumps running up his spine as he felt your small arms gripping on his sides, pressing him closer to yourself.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who broke off your kiss, a silver strand of saliva connected your lips as he gazed deeply in your eyes, blush on your face made him feel warm and proud. He pressed his lips against your forehead, nosing at your hair and inhaling sweet scent of your shampoo. Withdrawing back for just a few centimetres he muttered in his raspy breathy voice “Go out with me”

Likes, reblogs and comment are highly appreciated, give writers some love!🩷 I’m thinking about making part 2, let me know what you think<3

[cactiunderyourfeet]

Drama queen, poetically tragic, 'you were the sun and I was crashing into you "Basilton Grimm-Pitch"

🤝

Country fleeing , locks himself in a (tower) room, writing about his unrequited love "Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Winsdor"

[qualia-grey]

girl what the fuck was that. i had a heart attack. i lost hope in love. they really made us wait till the last FIVE MINUTES to make it happen.

[dustandshadows-if]

Out of all the characters from The Shadowhunter Chronicle, who would the Ros get along with the most?

youve got no idea how exicted i was to get this ask...i think abt this way too much. anyways!

i think farrah would get along most with jem. i thought about him a lot while creating their character, saur yes, there are some pretty heavy jem influences in farrah as a person and their romance route🤭 but also just as a person i think Farrah would like him the most. they'd also like to be friends with jace, but they'd be too intimidated and resign themselves to watching from the distance lmao

Quinn, i think, would get along best with clary or simon. Simons knowledge of everything mundane would really draw them in, and they'd absolutely love to talk about Dnd with him for hours. I think the biggest thing about clary that they'd like is how far she is willing to go to protect the people she cares about. For example, if they heard about what she did when simon got turned into a rat, they'd immediately make it their mission to become bestfriends with her they could also talk about art together teehee

Juliette would get along best with either izzy or emma carstairs. i think she'd really admire their strength, and despite how strong they are, they're able to realize when they might need someones help without feeling like that help makes them look weak. Also, she thinks they're hot

Nira would get along best with Tessa, i think. i can't really pinpoint exactly what they like about her, but something in my soul tells me they'd be bestfriends. Theres also the fact that Tessa got to have a family with the loves of her life that Nira really wishes she could experience themselves and that might be part of what draws them in but not in a jealous way more of like "im happy you got to have what i couldn't" type of way. idk if im making sense, but tessaianira bestfriendism for LIFE🤞🤞💯💯

Pepper (yes, i know you guys, no nothing about them yet. YOU WILL SO I PROMISE) would get along best with Will. they both have very similar approaches to life and i think they'd find a lot of comfort in knowing that despite everything that happened to him he still got to life a fluffing life and give them hope they theyll be able to do the same

[cyberfreaky]

dads!bestfriend simon who doesn’t care your boyfriend.

“f—fuck, i missed you.” simon grunted as he slammed his cock inside you, forehead pressed against yours while maintaining eye contact.

you felt a pang of guilt as you laid beneath simon, thinking of how you’d even face your boyfriend after this. the older man would see the look on your face and chuckle lowly, grabbing your jaw to give you a sloppy kiss. “don’t get all sappy now, love.” he tsk’ed, smiling as your moans grew louder.

“i…i feel..bad.” you whimpered softly, raw lips falling agape as simon began to pound you even harder. he didn’t give a shit about your guilt, all that mattered to him was you and your body.

“c’mon, darlin’. y’know you missed me, too.” simon groaned in your ear, his teeth nipping on that one spot that made you squirm. the flat of his tongue dragged down the side of your neck, sucking hellishly at your warm skin. of course you missed him.

it wasn’t that hard to guess when your cunt was swallowing his thick cock with such ease.

simon laughed tauntingly at how sensitive you were, he’d barely been inside you for 10 minutes and already you were on the verge of orgasming. he’d thrust even deeper inside you to make you scream. the most beautiful sound. “bet you think about me when he’s fuckin’ you.” simon groaned, feeling your soft walls tighten around him. “wishing it was me…mmffm…stuffin’ this pretty pussy.”

— all rights reserved © cyberfreaky (2023) do not repost, translate or copy my work without given permission.

[cntloup]

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop tossing and turning on his bed because you have encompassed his whole brain, the thoughts of you smiling your beautiful smile and laughing at his awful jokes dancing around his mind

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop his heart from melting at the thought of you caring for him, looking at him worriedly with tears in your eyes when he comes back with a new injury, your eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused as you clean and patch up his wounds, letting out a quiet "sorry" whenever he flinches or winces

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop thinking about holding your delicate hand in his when you both take a walk around your neighborhood at midnight cause you couldn't sleep

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop thinking about how your skin would feel, holding your bare body against his, placing tender kisses on every inch of your soft skin and worshiping you like the goddess you are in his eyes

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop thinking about how sweet you would taste as he slowly and teasingly licks a stripe along your folds, his tongue working skillfully on your seeping wet pussy to bring you to your climax

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop thinking about how your soft beautiful lips would feel wrapped around his thick cock, making you gag as you struggle to fully take him in your mouth, batting your lashes at him, teary-eyed as your mascara runs down your flushed cheeks

bestfriend!Simon, who can't stop thinking about you squirming and writhing beneath him as he stretches your sweet little cunt out on his fat cock, dragged out moans of his name falling from your lovely lips

bestfriend!Simon, who can't sleep because of you so he gets up as he feels a surge of courage to finally confess his true feelings to you

bestfriend!Simon, who is at your door at god knows what hour. You open the door sleepily "Simon, it's 3-" "Can I kiss you?" he cuts you off impatiently and gets dangerously closer and closer. You have a surprised look on your face but there's longing in your eyes. You can’t say you don't want this.

bestfriend!Simon, whose lips are on yours in an instant as soon as you nod in approval. Your lips rhythmically move against each other effortlessly, like you've been made for one another, pouring every ounce of your feelings for each other into the kiss. You both pull away breathless and giggling, "I'm fuckin' in love with you!" "I'm fucking in love with you too, Si!"

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!rooommate!simon finds out you've been lying.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 8/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mean!simon (verbally), size kink (simon can move the reader easily, described as much bigger), praise kink, the mask doesn't come off, oral (m!receiving), fem!receiving touching, cumplay, soft!dom!simon, reader uses simon to get herself off (because there is no universe in which simon doesn't return his girl's favor), pet names (including pet and kitty)

you lied.

if simon had his gloves off, his knuckles would be stark white from how hard he was gripping the mail in his hands.

neither of you had checked your mailbox in a while--simon had only returned a few days ago from the harsh winter of northern russia after weeks away, and you seemingly had been busy with work. so busy, simon noticed very quickly, that you spent morning to late at night in your red and white uniform, coming home in the dead of night just to crash and do it all again the next morning.

now he held all the letters in his hand. stacks of them, with angry red stamps bleeding into the white of the envelopes.

NOTICE

WARNING

PAST DUE

LAST NOTICE

he stopped breathing for a moment. he spread the letters out on the table, flipping through each of them. he didn't open them, of course but these were all your bills. cell phone, last month's half of the rent, credit cards, your name written on the back and ugly red warnings pasted over it.

simon had spoken to you while he was gone. he had called you once, twice at least, and all he remembered was your soft voice telling him you missed him, to be careful, that you screwed up a new cookie recipe that you promised you would perfect before he got home.

you hadn't said a thing. your voice had been even and gentle as always. your voice had been comforting, saying only encouraging words. if simon was honest, your voice put him at ease; you always told him something to calm him, something to uplift him.

"i'm so proud of you, simon."

"i hate that you're gone, but there's no one else that could do what you do."

"um...hah...love you. be careful."

you hadn't said a word. your voice didn't reveal an ounce of the stress and the weight that must've been hanging over your head. there was no falter in your words, no strain as you spoke. just pretty, perfect, beautiful you, easing simon's demons while you battled some of your own.

simon crumpled one of the envelopes in his hands. it was thick with papers, but he still forced it into a ball, tossing it back onto the table angrily. he gripped the edge of the table, white knuckling it until he heard the key in the lock.

it was quiet as you came inside. you shut the door and locked it behind you, setting down your bag and taking off your jacket. it was morning; you had worked the night shift. your eyes were drawn low, tired and a dull. you said nothing as you toed off your shoes, letting your sneakers settle under the table. it was then that you noticed simon just sitting there, still, with his hands folded in front of him.

and all of your bills scattered around him.

you sucked in a shaky breath, looking up into his eyes. they were trained low, on the letters surrounding him, but he glared, boring a whole through them. he didn't know where to focus his anger; you were precious, you could do no wrong, you were soft and warm and his, and it wasn't your fault that everything was so expensive, that you were struggling.

but it was your fault that you hadn't said a thing--that you hadn't asked for help.

"simon, i...i-i can explain."

"no. y'r not gonna talk, luv." you had never heard his voice this way. so low and gravelly, an eerie lilt to it that reeked of disappointment and somehow betrayal. "y'r gonna sit down. now."

simon roughly pulled the chair from beside him out, an unspoken command for you to take a seat. your bottom lip trembled as you slumped into the chair, watery eyes avoiding his.

"how long?"

"simon--"

you jumped as he slammed a hand down on the table. the entirety of it shook, the papers ruffling and the dishes clattering loudly.

"a few months! a-a few months, just--"

"no!" simon snapped. "y'lied to me. y'lied to me! i asked! how many times have i asked?! how many times have i looked you in the fuckin' eye and asked you if everythin' was in order, how many fuckin' times?!"

you couldn't keep it in. the tears were hot, running down your cheeks and putting salt on your lips and a dryness in your throat. you were embarrassed. embarrassed that you needed help, ashamed that you were being scolded like a child, afraid of his loud voice and his terrible anger and the way he looked at you. when you decided to live together, you weren't meant to be his burden. you didn't intend to be his problem.

"i-i'm sorry, simon--i'm sorry..." you met his eyes. "i'm taking extra shifts. i-i'm gonna pay the bills, i-i'm gonna make it right, i-i swear--"

"is that what you think this is?"

he narrowed his eyes at you, two dark slits, and then as if a switch flipped, it was gone. his face softened, his eyes widening, and the tension seemed to dissipate just enough to let you breathe a little easier. you couldn't decipher this change, and you couldn't read what was in his eyes, not this time. all you could was sit there and try not to let your cries make any sound.

"do y'think i'm angry because y'didn't pay? is that what y'think?"

you shook your head, shrugging, not understanding his question.

"what...what other reason is there, s-simon?" you hiccuped. "i screwed..." more tears, they wouldn't stop falling, "i-i screwed up, simon, i-i'm so sorry, i-i--"

you jumped when his chair screeched against the floor. he stood up fast, taking a step to round the table to crouch beside your chair. he looked up at you, making himself smaller, and you looked down.

"simon, i'm sorry--"

"stop! stop fuckin' apologizing, fuck," simon interrupted you. his voice was gentle, trying not to scare you, and you closed your mouth, taking in deep, shaking breaths to try and center yourself. "'m angry because you didn't talk to me, luv--" your face fell when he reached up, two gloved hands cupping your puffy cheeks, "--why didn't you say anything? why didn't you tell me? why didn't you ask me for help?"

you sniffled, reaching up and caressing his wrists gently. you played with the edges of his gloves, your fingers skimming the hem of his sleeves and just barely teasing the bare skin under it.

"simon...how could i?" you asked, as if it was obvious. "after everything that's happened...after everything we've been through...h-how could i ask that of you?" "how could you not?" simon spit back, and when you tried to pull away, he tightened his grip on your cheeks. "no, no--look at me--" he rose up on his knees, pressing your forehead to his, "look at me."

your expression was pained, struggling to do as he asked, but eventually your eyes fluttered, meeting his own, and he grunted as he gripped the back of your neck and held you there.

nowhere to go. nowhere to run. no one else.

"y'r not my problem. not my burden," he muttered. "y'r m'responsibility. mine to take care of."

"i-i don't want you to have to do that--"

"what the fuck do y'think this is?" he breathed. "what we have, what this is, this is forever, has that not gotten through y'r bloody head?" you whimpered when he shook you a little, his hand in your hair as he pulled it tight. "y'r as good as mine. not up for discussion."

you swallowed hard as his hands came down, wiping the tears off your face. he brushed your hair back and away, so he could see you, and you smiled at him sadly, eyes glossy and bright.

"'m gonna take care of the flat from now on, yeah?" simon murmured. "'m gonna take care of everything."

your body visibly relaxed. your shoulders fell, your body sinking a little more into the chair, and there was something sweet in your eyes--something hopeful. simon's tone was definite, and there was no room for arguing. you nodded finally, leaning in slowly, pressing a delicate kiss to where his lips would be under the mask. his thumb swiped over your cheek, falling to trace the line of your jaw, and then you both closed your eyes at the same time.

there was an understanding here. it was as if simon was washing you clean--something refreshing and warm and gentle running down the length of you, rinsing whatever was hurting you right down some sort of sickening void that had gripped you so tightly. and he did it so easily--he did it without even blinking.

and it was easy. simon never hesitated with you. his money rotted in an account anyways--it sat and stared at him, reminding him of the kind of hell he had gone through just to get it. it reminded him of the half of him that was someone, the half of him that he hated, the half of his being that came from a wretched, horrid, terrifying thing that manifested itself somewhere in his blood.

simon was half of something foul, and maybe he couldn't make up for the part of him that he didn't think was human, but he could make up for this, make up for you, make up for whatever half of you had left you here. because that was what you deserved--you deserved to be taken care of, you deserved not to worry, you deserved to sleep in soft sheets and eat until your belly was full and smile so much that your cheeks ached, and if simon had to become someone else just to give it to you, if simon had to die and come back again, then that was exactly what he would do.

simon had died once already. simon had seen it--seen how empty and unfulfilling and quiet it had been. simon had seen another side, and you didn't belong there. you belonged somewhere warm. somewhere a little noisy, a little bright, familiar.

it hadn't always been this way. when simon first met you, it hadn't been a good day--simon wore bruises, and you wore blood, and it was in that instant moment of understanding that made it clear you would be bound forever.

something invisible threaded you together. and simon had pulled himself out of his early grave, and after he had done it, you were the only thing that remained. and he hated himself--he hated himself for thanking some unspoken thing, because his entire family was gone, but you weren't gone, you were still here, there was still sunlight in your eyes and laughter in your voice and you were still warm.

it should've tasted sour to be grateful for it. he wanted to hate himself for this feeling. he deserved to die again and not return, but then he wouldn't get to see you anymore, and the selfish part of him, the other half of him, would never give you up willingly.

this love was visceral. this love was going to kill him. he was going to die with you on his mind, but maybe that would be the only thing worth really dying for.

because there you are. big, pretty eyes gazing up at him--fuck, why does she look at me like that?

why does she look at me like i mean something?

why isn't she afraid?

why can't i push her away?

what the fuck is wrong with me?

his beautiful girl. his pretty little roommate. the woman with flowers for eyes and silk as skin and a mind filled with starlight. the sweetheart pushing him to sit, forcing him backwards, getting on her knees in between his legs. and then her hands were on his thighs, sliding up against the rough denim as she laid one side of her face against it, those petals in her eyes trained on the way that his pants seemed to get tighter with every drag of her delicate fingers up his thighs.

and then she was pushing up his hoodie, exposing the relaxed muscle of his stomach, and then she was kissing it. soft lips warming the solid middle of him, a knowing smile growing on her face as she felt him twitch and jump and grunt. and then those beautiful eyes were looking back up at him, her neck tilted back as she undid his jeans and nestled the hem of them just low enough for her to reach in and fuck--

you knew simon was beautiful everywhere. you knew that there was no part of him that wasn't perfect. you couldn't remember being particularly religious, but kneeling in front of him felt like devotion--and you had much to confess.

he was thick, heavy, a weight in your hand that had you drooling without so much as seeing him. you were looking at the red tip of him with eyes half-lidded, and it took everything in you not to take him all at once. but this was simon, this was your version of perfect, and you needed to show simon how much you felt because words were not enough.

words would never be enough.

you started slow. you dipped your head, your eyes flicking up to watch him as you caressed the base of him with a wet kiss. you squeezed your legs together when you noticed his dark eyes roll back into his head for a second, a pained, pleasured reaction, and then you did it again.

a soft lick, the edge of your tongue sliding over a protruding vein on the underside of his length, and you closed your own eyes for a moment to revel in the deep groan that simon uttered. you sighed deeply, keeping your thighs squeezed together to relieve the sudden ache between them, before flattening your tongue and guiding it up his length. simon cursed under his breath, his hands gripping his thighs tight--but one of his hands flew to the back of your head when your greedy little mouth sucked the tip of him into your mouth.

you moaned softly, tasting the edge of him, something so simon and pleasant. a little precum, warm, flowing onto your tongue. you whimpered when you felt his fingers tangle into your hair, gripping you for stability as you sucked him in.

"christ, luv--" just the sound of him so pleased was enough to have you dripping, "fuck--'s so good, 's perfect--"

she was so beautiful. she was perfect. of course she would be good at sucking him off, of course she would have the prettiest tongue and the warmest mouth, and of course she would have one hand wrapping around the base of him as the other slipped between her legs--

"fuck--y'r gettin' off on this, yeah?" he grunted, his eyes flashing with something dark. "'f course you are, such a good girl--"

good girl, good girl, i'm a good girl--

just as slow as it began, as quick as you became. one moment you were cool, composed, watching simon's eyes and listening to his voice as you tried to memorize what pleasure sounded like when it came from him, and the next moment you were sliding him further into your mouth, drool dripping down your jaw as precum spread across your teeth. he was so big--so much to take, but the strain in your jaw tomorrow would have to be a welcome side effect to making lieutenant simon riley cum down your throat.

so sloppy, what a mess you were making. simon's hand now cupped the side of your head, your hair in some makeshift updo as he guided you along his length. the sounds were filthy--soft, slobbering noises as you took simon just a little further down your throat, your tongue being careful to tease the slit of him, slipping between the fold of it to illicit the most gorgeous of moans out of him.

"fuckin' hell--the mouth of a fuckin' angel--"

"such a pretty girl...such a pretty sight...makin' such a mess, sweetheart..."

"y'like it, yeah? y'like it...y'r so pretty...s'pretty, luv, nnngh--th's it, just like that--"

and now you were bouncing pathetically onto your hand. you pressed your hand into the floor, trapping your thighs over it as you tried desperately to grind down on something as you sucked warmly on simon's length. just as you let out a frustrated whine, simon's boot knocked your hand out of the way, slipping the steel toe of it right there, right--oh!

you cried out as the tip of his boot pushed right up against your cunt. the perfect spot, right against your aching clit, because simon never missed--simon always hit his target, whether it was between the eyes of some muppet who had his gun aimed at johnny or exactly where to touch his girl to make her drool. and drool she did--with her mouth stuffed full of him, with her slick wetting her thighs, with that look in her eyes that could make any man lose his fucking mind.

and simon was losing it, he was crazy. he soothed the back of your neck, grunting and hissing and wetting the fabric of his mask with the way he spat and cursed for you. but how could he help himself? the most beautiful girl in the world was on her knees, looking at him like she was at the alter. confessing her sins, receiving her absolution, taking every bit of it like the good girl she was, is.

he was so pretty. he tasted so good. you could only see his eyes, but it was more than enough, you didn't need anything more. the way he scrunched them open and shut, the low drawl of his voice as he said your name--he was perfect. his cock filled your mouth so nicely; he was using you, but you didn't feel used.

you wanted this. you wanted him. you wanted him to put you between his legs, wanted him to finally feel something other than that sick, twisted ache in his bones.

you lifted your hand, the one that had been buried between your thighs, and you cupped the underside of him with them. the wet, sticky warmth of your fingers had simon choking on a breath, hissing when you began to work the length of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"jesus fuckin' christ--!"

his chest was heaving, rising up and down as he scratched at your scalp and cupped the underside of your jaw. then he bent low, smoothing a gloved hand down your throat, needing to feel the way it constricted, the way you swallowed, the feel of your skin and the vibrations as you whimpered and moaned around the thick of him.

you were suckling so sweetly, letting pools of drool and precum slip past your lips and drip along your chin, your hands, against his boot. simon was getting close--you could tell by the way he tugged on your hair and the faltering of his breaths. and he was talking--talking so much, blubbering.

"aye, sweetheart--th's it..."

"fuckin' hell...nnnghh...feel like bloody heaven..."

"...see you in m'dreams, luv...aghh! fuck--fuck, fuck, fuck--"

you didn't think there was anything more attractive than watching simon lose control. but you weren't doing much better. as you sucked the salt from his cock, you slid your hips over his boot to relieve the ache between your thighs even just a little. you thought maybe it was a pathetic sight, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you fit your cunt right up against him, nestling the tip of his toes against your clit so you could rock back and forth, soaking the leather with you.

simon grunted, chuckling a bit to himself as you watched you suck a little harder, a little sloppier, move your hips a little messier. you were like a sweet, doe-eyed puppy--all big eyes and soft mewls and nothing inside your head except suck, suck, suck--

you whined when he came into your mouth. you held out your tongue, massaging the middle of his cock as he dripped along your mouth, your lips, under your tongue, against your chin. and like the messy little girl you were, you kept suckling on the tip until simon gripped you by the back of the head and lifted you up off the ground, grunting as he roughly manhandled you into his lap.

"little kitty can't help herself...what a fuckin' mouth on ya..."

and then his fingers were gathering the cum on your face and slipping it back into your mouth--just as the fingers on his other hand plunged inside of you.

he was deep, thick gloved fingers taking up even more space, stretching your pulsing, gummy cunt as you gripped his shoulders and cried. little tears coming down your face as you chased that blissful high, begging simon to give it, give it, you need it.

it didn't take much. just a few rough touches of your puffy clit, and you were soaking his gloves, whining as you pressed your cheek to his and mumbled how good he felt, how everything hurt so nice.

a pounding, aching thing that was gone in a matter of seconds, throwing you in a pleasure-drunk mood, with your head rest against his shoulder and your breaths coming out heavy and languid.

your eyes fluttered, but your vision was just clear enough that you could see simon lift the front of his mask. you caught the line of deep scar, something a healed and vicious against his pretty face. then it was gone, replaced by the sight of him slipping his gloved fingers into his mouth and sucking on them, pink tongue coming out to taste them as he slurped at the gooey mess you made on them.

you saw the slightest hint of a smirk before the fabric came back down again.

"'s alright, pet--" simon's voice was low, a drawl to it that made his accent a bit more pronounced. and just as your eyes fluttered shut completely--

"'m right here, kitty."

[vampykween]

sex with bestfriend!simon is absolutely slow and sweet. you two had just finished up a twilight movie marathon because he knows it’s your favorite and god he was honestly to sweet to you. coming over with treats and cuddling up with you to watch your favorite movie, all just to cheer you up.

you’re not sure what came over you, but suddenly your argument with your parents is in the back of your head and you’re straddling simon’s waist. he’s hesitant in his movements, letting you take the lead because otherwise he’ll reveal just how eager he is for you. your hands are all over him, your lips sucking dark bruises into his neck, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose and he can’t help the moan he lets out. there’s nothing he wants more than to be consumed by you; fill you up and have every part of you intertwined with him.

his large hand gently tugs your hair until you’re looking into his eyes. they’re dark and lustful, a look you’ve never seen on simon before. has he always looked at you this way? his voice is low and sensual when he whispers “tell me you want this. just say the words and i’m all yours love” and god you absolutely melt at that.

“si- please i want you. i need you so bad.”

as if in the blink of an eye you’re on your back with simon’s head between your thighs. he kisses and licks at your cunt slowly, yet passionately and when he languidly slides his thick digits into your tight heat, you know you’re in for one hell of a night.

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

one thing you love about simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. strong, steadfast, there when you need him. even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

not that you’ll tell him that.

you hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

except for simon.

which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. you don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. you've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

but losing simon? you don't think you'd ever get over that.

it's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold your tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

your call log is all simon.

some appointments here and there, but simon everywhere else.

fuck.

you hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

you don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

he answers before the third ring.

"i'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. you take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired.

“no, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. you’re only half-convinced.

"i'm sorry," you begin again. your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. you're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "i didn't know who else to call, and i lost my tram pass, and i don't have an umbrella, and — "

“dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. you ache.

"i can just walk home, i-i'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone.

“darling,” he says, a little stern. not angry, never angry. trying to focus you. “what’s wrong?”

“u-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "i waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "messaged him too, y'know. but he just. didn't show."

you think you hear simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick.

“where are you?”

there's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. you manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking.

“twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “sit there and be good and patient and i’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. you make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

you can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

he says your name gently. you take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. he's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. assessing you, worrying.

"i'm sorry," you croak out. you can't help it. it's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. he doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. his eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "you know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

you can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. he hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"this is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. you were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "you really think i'd let you stay home alone?"

his eyes are so fucking bright. it startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"i..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. his eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "i was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"as if i don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. you scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

you hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

his flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

well.

you might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. it's a you're a bit clumsy thing. simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

his bedroom is familiar as well. which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

you take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. you’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

as you pad back out to the living room, simon’s already on the couch. your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. but you’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

his balaclava is off. the last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv already ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“am i that predictable?” you mumble, a small ‘thank you’ as he hands you a bowl.

he doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

the silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

you blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. you can’t read his eyes. something hot twists in your gut.

“i-i don’t know, simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “maybe?”

he doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “depends how the date went, i suppose. doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. his gaze hasn’t changed. “why?”

his jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “you deserve better ‘n that.”

a confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “i know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

he seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. you feel sick.

dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. you bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. relationships aren’t easy. being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

you never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. you don’t deserve that kind of attention. after a while, they’ll get tired. you’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

it’s easier to be by yourself. the only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“love.” he tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. how hasn’t he tired of you yet?

a hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“what’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

you swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “no one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

frustration burns the back of your throat. isn’t it obvious? you can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. how can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? how could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“you wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. you crumble back into the couch.

“make me understand.”

heat flashes at the nape of your neck. he takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“how aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. you look at him. hesitant. scared.

the silence is loud. his frown deepens. it takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“you know i’d do anything for you, yeah?”

your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“because you do the same for me,” he continues. you doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

his touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. he slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips where the waistband of his boxers start.

you slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. firm and broad and safe.

“you apologize so much. you worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. one hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“you’re allowed to ask for help.”

you shake your head, a “no” caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“oh, love.” he cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “you have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

he lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. but his cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. you’re so tired.

his lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. you’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[hecateslore]

💌

supervisor!simon

“Are you quitting because of me?” Simon prodded, “I have to heat up my breakfast.” Soon as you went to walk to the break room, Simon grabbed your wrist softly, his brown eyes looking into yours, 

“Answer me, is it my fault?”  

Simon’s honey brown eyes, search your face, It’s weird. Why’d he care so much? You snatch your arm back from his hand, “What’s the matter with you?” confusion thick in your voice. 

Simon watched as you walked to the break room. A weird feeling sat in his chest, he thought he might’ve overstepped, pushed your boundaries a bit. Shaking it off he walked into his office, he hated this game of push and pull that was going on his mind. Sitting in his desk chair, he stared at the wall. When you started working at the office Simon was just a lead, he appreciated a new face, a pretty one at that. You got quieter over time, you barely spoke to Simon, he always saw you conversing with Linda, laughing, exchanging snacks, borrowing pens, even getting lunch sometimes. He wanted and still wants a piece in that. 

You just had attitude problems. Simons alert. He sees when you have a bad day, when you roll your eyes when asks if you could come in earlier. He hears when you smack your lips at one of his emails. Simon knows you're not that fond of him. A part of him likes it? Something about you leaving, just wasn’t right. 

-

Later in the day, Simon walked around the office. Good thing no one saw your awkward interaction earlier this morning. Simon stood at the back next to Victor; this old guy who always brags about his son who’s in the air force. You could feel his (Simon) eyes on you, You shifted in your seat, feeling the pressure from Simon's presence.

You stop typing on your keyboard and get up to go to the bathroom, needing a break from this moment in life (y'all know what I’m talking about??? No? ok.) While getting up you both made eye contact, that somehow made your stomach drop to your ass. You crossed your fingers hoping he wouldn’t follow you. 

You knew Simon could be a pushover, everyone knows it, and somehow everyone is still okay with it. One time, this old coworker always overfilled his cup and he would leave coffee stains in the shape of his cup on the counter. Simon sat and watched him make his cup of coffee for two weeks, wrote down how many times he spilled coffee and never cleaned it up, marking the notes with a date and timestamp. That man was fired one week later. 

 -

In the bathroom you hold the sink gathering yourself, today will be the day. You scored an interview at your bestfriends job. You were grateful, so happy to finally leave the maniac in business casual. You felt bad, Kind of?  You exhale and adjust your outfit in the mirror. 

You spent a lot of time here, silently screaming, flicking water at the mirrors as “revenge”, calling your bestfriend and complaining for 15 minutes straight. Were you having a sentimental moment in the bathroom? Maybe. 

-

Simon stood with his arms crossed, peeved. Watching Victor click on his computer, seeing how many times he’s messed up and didn’t notice. Simon wanted to catch you leaving the bathroom and try to continue this morning's conversation. But he vetoed that thought. 

The other part of Simon wanted to start an argument, hoping you’d give him an ounce of the truth. Simon wasn’t obtuse, not on purpose at least. He wanted to call you into his office and let you have a go at him. You could yell, scream, even throw a shoe at him. Simon didn’t like to be the root of the problem, he wanted to be a problem fixer. Simon was getting annoyed. He rolled his eyes so many times in one minute, they were going so fast all you could see was the white of them. 

You walked back to your desk, it was still early in your shift, you finished your tasks for this morning so you sat in your chair waiting for a new load of work. You rocked yourself side to side, soothing the random anxiety in your body.  Simon walked past your desk and stopped, bending down to your level “I have a new hire coming in and he needs to be trained.” he spoke quietly, “You could do me this favor?” he looked at your screen, noticing the blank monitor, “I mean since you’re not gonna be here for too long.” Simon's passive tone almost makes your eye twitch, you nod saying nothing, giving him no reaction. 

45 minutes later a man in a black sweater with slacks walks in with a folder in hand. His icy blue eyes land on yours, a big smile stretches across his face. You almost choke on the sip of water in your mouth, he’s cute, and he’s your replacement. You almost throw up. Simon's office door swings open, he walks over to the new hire and gives him a big hug. 

They stood in the same spot for 10 minutes, chatting and laughing, patting each other's shoulders, giving bro hugs. You were staring and you knew you were staring, practically gawking at the new hire, his thick thighs, pretty teeth and even prettier eyes. Maybe leaving didn't sound as good as this job was looking. Simon’s very easy on the eyes, you’re very aware. He’s tall and thick, but he can be a real ass. He’s hot though, that. you’ll never forget! Exactly like when he was promoted to Supervisor, you couldn’t stop staring at him at the company party. His shirt was a little loose and Jesus Christ; his large legs and hands, and those big brown droopy eyes. God he is pretty. 

 Simon stood before your desk clearing his throat to get your attention, you look up through your brows, “Replacements here!” he says, you could punch him from down here, right in the chin. 

“This is who’ll be training you Johnny,” Simon taps your desk, You smile at him politely earning a nod that almost makes you squeal. Simon eyes you and Johnny, “She won’t be here long.” he fakes a frown, and looks directly at you. “Ahh ‘s a shame.” your ears perk up at his voice, you smile again at him. “I’ll leave you two to it.” Simon smacks your desk, and of course it’s way too loud. 

-

You and Johnny get acquainted, you learn he and Simon worked together years ago. He was the last to retire out of their “little work group” you call it. “Did Simon give you the hand book?” 

“Yeah, but I don’ think I’ll need it though.” he says while bending a paperclip. “Oh trust me you will.” you snort. “You get in trouble alot?” he smirks at you. “Maybe.” 

“That why you’re quitting?” you shake your head, “Me and Simon don’t really get along.” You avow while writing down some serial number for him. “Can I ask why?” his blue eyes watch you put the sticky note on his folder, “Dunno.” you say. 

“Where you working after this?” His thick accent makes you smile, “My friend's job has an opening.”  you respond, “considering quitting here too?” you joke.

“I don’ think HR would be okay with me hitting on ya.”

[nerak-01]

Just...Pissed off Bestfriend!Ghost who can't get outta the friendzone...

TW: no direct smut ig, but its teasing and build up to smut. Ghost pinning over an oblivious reader.

This might get a second part if it does well, but who knows.

Imagine Ghost who prides himself in being subtle, unfazed, and mysterious. Except, he isn't around you. He'd been one of your closest friends since you both practically grew up together. Even when he joined to military, you made it a point to send letters and stay in touch. Ugh, that made it so much harder to not grow attached.

Ghost, or Simon, as you know him, would never out right tell you he was interested. Instead, he chose to drop hints. Maybe warding off any guy who looked at you too long wasn't the best hint, but it was crucial. Simon made an effort to keep his hands on you whenever he could. Whether that was a hug; a hand on your hips when he brushed passed you; or full blown cuddles on the couch when you guys watched movies.

Oh, he loved the cuddles. He had your whole body pressed against him as he occupied most of your attention. You were always so soft and warm. He always had to take a bathroom break half way through to relieve himself of a harder problem.

If you noticed how Simon began to change, you never mentioned it. This was now approaching your sixth month of this friends with cuddles non-sense. It wasn't like he wasn't your type! On a boring mission break, he might or might not have gone through your search history to find some enlightening Onlyfans subscriptions. He was both unimpressed and flattered when he saw how his body matched many of your most visited sites. Why pay to see other men's bodies when you could run your dainty hands over his? Simon Riley didn't get it.

Simon also couldn't fathom how you still hadn't taken the hint. He'd agreed to go clubbing with you as you chose to parade around in the sluttiest two piece he'd ever seen. Fuck. Why was your skirt so short anyway? Your top was basically lingerie with the mesh pieces and thin straps. Were you trying to grab his attention on purpose? Cause it...was kind of working... a little too well for his liking.

He hated how his eyes ghosted between your thighs before pulling away to look at the cock block who had you exhale an airy laugh. Your sounds were always angelic. He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't fantasized about the more sinister sounds he could draw out of you when you'd finally gotten the hint. Nevertheless, hearing it directed to someone else made his blood boil. Perhaps the other predicament was the fact that he knew that his eyes weren't the only ones lingering on you.

"Hey, darling, I think it's time we head out." Simon wasted no time, in two strides he was at your side with his arms wrapped protectively around you. He gazed down at the moron who looked a bit paler before the guy made an effort to wrap up your conversation. The idiot quickly scurried off into the tight crowd.

"No, I wanna dance more~" Your voice drew Simon's attention. You were being such a brat by subtly grinding your hips against him. Sure, you were wasted, but you had to know how riled up he was. You should be able to feel his hard on poking your back by now. He gripped your hips, forcing them to still.

"Baby, you're drunk, and I'm the one who's responsible for getting you home," he growled in your ear. There was a thick rasp in his voice as he tried to repress the urge to grind back. This wasn't fair to him at all. How could you expect a man to resist you? Simon had plenty of trouble doing that already, but this gave blue balls a whole new meaning.

[freedomfireflies]

The Teach Me Masterlist

BestFriend!Harry x You

*This story contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend? You.

~ Show Me* (Pt. 2)

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

You and Harry have struck a deal. You'll help him explore some of his favorite kinks and in return, he'll practice each one on you. A rather...bloody sweet deal, if you do say so yourself.

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

The search for kinks has only just begun as you and your best friend Harry officially cross...The Line. ...so what happens when it's over?

~ Love Me* (Final Part)

You and your best friend Harry have a few things to figure out. So why not figure them out while you’re riding his face?

The Extras:

~ Find Me*

Harry has never been in his subspace before. Until today.

~ Watch Me*

It wouldn't be a party with Harry if there wasn't some light fighting and exhibitionism...right?

~ Lead Me*

You're on your period and your best friend Harry is determined to help you feel better. Your only condition? He's not allowed to look.

~ Use Me*

You bring home a new outfit, and your best friend Harry decides that it's high time he show you exactly what you've been missing with a little payback. Blindfold and all.

~ Guide Me*

Your best friend Harry wants to experiment with something else in the bedroom. A collar...and a leash. The only catch? He wants them both in your hands.

~ Take Me*

The one where you and Harry decide to move in together. And christen every inch of the new apartment.

~ Break Me*

The one where Harry edges you into your subspace for the very first time.

~ Tease Me* (Halloween Extra)

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House. But ghosts aren't the only thing fun about this party.

~ Tell Me*

The one where your best friend Harry suggests a fun, friendly little game of horny Simon Says.

~ Remember Me* | (1 Year Anniversary Post!)

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, reminisce over the first time he ever ate you out.

The Blurbs:

The one where Harry and Bee use a pussy plug*

The one where Harry and Bee use a pussy plug pt. 2*

[siriuslymooned]

Simon fucks, Price will make love - both love to watch the other make you come undone. They watch and envy what the other has. Price watches Simon fuck you sloppy the alley behind a pub and fuck does he wish he was the one doing it. You pant and claw and he is so fucking jealous of his bestfriend... Likewise, Simon wants the soft. He watches Price kiss you, lift you in his arms and take you to bed. He listens to your soft moans and his cock gets hard. It turns him on more than it should.