#cod-thoughts

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Wanted to thank you for cultivating such a beautiful little corner on the internet and encouraging all of us so much. I literally posted my first cod fic because when i was an anon and lurker on your blog I decided to be brave and ask if you had a prompt for me and now 43 fics later here we are pfft

You're incredibly funny and so insanely talented like seriously you're in my top 5 authors of anything including non-fic writers mind you, you're just that good mate.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and your works and for being so encouraging to everyone too I don't think I'd have written nearly as much this year if it wasn't for you so thank you Jack <33

Hopefully 2025 treats you well, you deserve it, happy new year <333

Forty-three fics, holy shit. I've got some catching up to do, wow. That is a seriously high output and work ethic, Q. Amazing.

Also, I'm really bad at accepting compliments, so I'm just gonna be a bit bashful for a moment, say thank you, but also say that, without the support of Nikprice Army, I'd still be in my "not writing anymore" phase after previous experiences.

I've got WIPs from my previous fandom that I love the premise of, that I have all planned out in my head, but I get anxiety every time I open the file to work on them. With Nikprice Army, mate, I am just so excited to share with you guys and to hype our shared love, anxiety doesn't even come into it.

I think we're really lucky to have found a little group of people who just want to be unapologetically feral, a bit silly, a bit angsty, a bit smutty, and everything in between.

[samuelroukin]

Been following you for ages, long before I even considered making this account and you really validate my self-doubt as a writer. Seeing someone who writes so beautifully and so well still be so critical is actually really validating. Although I do wish you didn't think that way because you write so well like seriously its so fucking good wtf and self-doubt is never a good thing, I can't help but be somewhat glad that others do think like that and still choose to upload their work anyway despite it all so thank you for sharing your writing and your thoughts

I am still working through your stuff tho oop I'm bad at long fics shhh

yeah i think a lot of writers struggle with it, no matter how others perceive their work. it's easy to see all the flaws and areas that need improvement — and that leads, at least for me, to thinking everyone else not only sees those but all the things i don't lol

as for that original anon, i do get it, i can get discouraged seeing people i perceive as better than me say they suck too, but it's all about your own perspective. and i agree with u that while i don't wish that on anyone, it's good to know that it's not a unique feeling! all we can do is keep going and getting better slowly but surely 🙏

also dw lol, i'm actually bad at long fics too 💀 just got too many words pouring out to keep it short myself

[whostarlockeda03]

For the writers ask thing (no pressure ofc): 2, 7 and 10 :O

I hope you're doing better now and you're no longer ill <33

Q! Hiiiii, thanks for the ask :D I am doing much better now, and finally have time to answer these now the contest is out of the way XD

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

Ooh, this is a tough one. It is quite possibly Trick or Treat. I feel like I really nailed Ghost's personality in that one, as well as the friendship he has with John. But I'm also very proud of Truth Will Out. I feel like I managed to get into a good writing style with that one, which is something I think I need to improve on with my writing XD

7. Coffee or tea while you write?

Tea. Tea tea tea all day long. Call me a stereotypical brit but there are very few scenarios where I'd take coffee over tea - even when I'm dog tired of a morning, I'll still go for tea. That being said, I do occasionally enjoy a nice flavoured latte, as a treat!

10. Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

I haven't written much of Gaz or Soap, on their own, or anything from Nikolai's pov. I have ideas for writing some stuff for Nikolai, but I haven't really gotten started with any of those yet. As for ships? Technically I've not written anything pricenik or priceghost, which is low-key ridiculous considering they're my favourite cod ships XD But, I do love my pricenikghost fic and I have at least another two of those in wip

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that doesn’t correct people for thinking you’re dating. Simon’s minding the trolley while you grab a box of cereal at the store, idly standing by while watching people dip in and out of the aisle. when an older woman says you make a cute couple he just nods and says ��thank you, ma’am’. he especially doesn’t correct someone when he stalks up behind you, a protective hand on your hip when they scoff and ask, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Roommate!Simon Riley that knows you like the back of his hand - ever changing, but still familiar at the end of the day. a new scar marring his knuckles? he’ll memorize what you like from that new café that opened down the block. a new nick on his wrist? he’s picking up that new movie you were gushing about wanting to see, a genre you wouldn’t necessarily choose usually - he’s ignoring how the main love interest looks like him. at the end of the day, some things never change, like how he’s memorized your smile and the way your nose scrunches

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s fallen into a comfortable pattern with you. your friends always say you act like a married couple, but you wave them off. so what if you guys are in the bathroom at the same time? you need to squeeze a shower in and Simon wanted to brush his teeth - besides, he can hand you a towel when you’re done. so what if you sleep in each other’s rooms? the damn AC is busted again, it’s not your fault Simon is as warm as a furnace and welcomes you with open arms

Roommate!Simon Riley whose favorite start to the morning is seeing you bleary eyed and groggy. your hair is messy, pillow lines across your cheek, and your t-shirt is askew - perfect. he doesn’t care if you have crud around your eyes, he doesn’t care if you haven’t brushed your teeth yet, he doesn’t care that you’re wearing his t-shirt— Simon pauses, eyes glued to you. his last name decorating your back… maybe Simon does care about you wearing his shirt

[bi-writes]

simon knows something is wrong as soon as he comes home. (a little 18+, f!reader)

you're sitting on the floor of the living room. there's acrylic paint in your hair, and you're crying, eyes red and puffy cheeks wet. you're sitting around a floor of strewn about toddler toys, and you're rubbing your chest in the way that simon knows means your breasts are sore.

he shuts the door behind himself. there's dishes piled up in the sink. he smells something that's burnt. the kitchen table is littered with remnants still from breakfast, and there's clean laundry still piled up in the basket, forgotten next to the couch.

"wot the fuck is happenin'?"

you jump a little when you hear his voice, as if it's the first time you've noticed something in your house is different. you want to smile at him, but it falls short. simon kicks his boots off, hanging his jacket up, and he lets out a deep breath as he kneels down in front of you.

"hey, baby," he murmurs. you sniffle, wiping your face, and simon cups your cheeks to make you look at him. "wot happened?"

"he hates me," you whisper. "h-he hates me, simon, h-he said it."

"who hates ya, swee'eart?"

"joe," you whine. "i told him...i told him you wouldn't be here for supper, and he..." you start to cry. "he said he hates me. he wants you, he only wants you. he hates me..."

simon sucks on his teeth under the mask, shaking his head.

"mm...and where's our sweet girl then?"

"s-sleeping."

"havin' a nap?" he kisses you softly. "olright. time to pump, huh, love?" he cups under your breast tenderly, rubbing over your sore nipple. you sigh, nodding, and he nudges his nose against yours. "olright. you 'ave a go. take a nice bath. have somethin' ta eat."

you collapse against his chest in a fit of soft tears. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close, and he rubs your back gently.

"we'll 'ave a chat," simon murmurs. "sort this out."

"i-i'm sorry, simon."

"no need ta be sorry, baby. i've got it."

"i...i wanted to have it, too. i wanted..."

simon rubs a thumb over your face gently.

"you do, baby. you've got it. i know you do. there now, that's a girl..."

it takes a few minutes to get you to go into your shared bedroom. when he sees you relaxed as you get your breast bump, he makes his way down the hall, to where your son's bedroom door is just ajar.

when he pushes it open, it creaks. simon sighs as he sees your little boy sitting on the carpet, playing with his trains. he's quiet, which is unusual; when he comes home, normally his son is bounding towards him, jumping up and down, so happy and excited to see his father. now, he looks shy, and he won't acknowledge him.

"oi," simon murmurs gently. "that a way to greet me, lad?"

his son just shrugs. he looks up at him, the picture of shame, and simon closes the door behind him as he takes a seat on the little bed. it creaks under his great weight, but it holds up. simon looks positively funny—he takes up most of the bed, and he has to hunch over to get closer to his son.

"i missed you very much. been gone awhile, haven't i?"

his son just shrugs again.

"'n i come home, and i see y'r mum covered in rubbish, very upset. would y'like ta tell me wot tha's about? huh, joe?"

his son, predictably, just shrugs.

"y'r mum thinks y'hate her," simon continues. "tha' true?"

shrug.

"oi," simon's voice hardens, but it's still gentle. "i'm havin' a conversation with you, lad. i'd like it very much if y'gave me y'r attention."

joe finally stops touching his trains. he sniffles, looking up at simon, and simon tilts his head to the side. when they meet eyes, simon tries to be less intimidating. he wants his son to know he's done something wrong, but he doesn't want to scare him.

"y'r mum thinks you hate her. tha' true?" he asks again. when joe shakes his head, simon narrows his eyes. "then why'd ya say it?"

"wanted a lolly."

"uh huh. but mummy said it was supper time, didn't she?"

"yeah."

"so you hate her?"

"no."

"then why'd ya say it?"

"i dunno," joe shrugs. he frowns a little, thinking, and simon is satisfied with this reaction. punishing joe never works; taking away his toys, his coloring books, playtime, it never works. joe is like you��too smart for his own good. he learns when he's confronted with the truth. "i wanted..."

"ya wanted to hurt her," simon finishes. "like you think she hurt you."

joe turns back to his trains. simon sits up, taking a deep breath.

"one day," simon murmurs, "y'r gonna love someone the way i love y'r mummy."

"i am?" joe is interested. he turns his head a little, blinking up at his dad, and simon just nods. realistic. honest.

"right," simon tells him. "y'r gonna love them 'n y'r gonna wanna protect them, like i want to protect y'r mum. you can't stop everyone from hurtin' them, but i would hope that at least it...wouldn't be family. tha's y'r mum, mate. i remember when y'were the size of a tiny bean, inside of her tummy, yeah? she was so happy. 'n when y'were born, she cried so much. said y'were the most wonderful thing, said she would love you more than anythin', more than me." simon chuckles. "was a bit jealous of ya for a bit, won't lie. 'n she does. loves you with all of herself. tells me all the time."

"she does?" joe's eyes are big and bright now. he feels bad. he's sad.

"tha's right," simon mutters. "'n when i'm gone, i'm not here to protect y'r mum, so i thought you'd be a big help, but here we are, joe. 'n y'r mine, mate, all mine, but y'r mum is special to me, y'hear tha'? she's my special girl. my special girl tha' loves you more than herself, so i need you to go tell her y'r sorry, and i need you to mean it."

joe stands up onto his little legs, and simon watches as he toddles over to simon. simon scoops him up into a big hug, and joe wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," joe whimpers, and simon rubs his little head gently. "i-i don't hate her, i-i got...m-mad..."

"tha's olright," simon whispers. "you can get mad. but ya can't hurt y'r mum. she does oll the heavy liftin' when 'm gone, and...can't do tha'. won't 'ave it."

"i-i won't. i-i won't anymore—"

"good lad..."

when it's quiet in the house, and the babies are sleeping, simon is rubbing lotion into your hands gently. you're tired from feeding the baby, and you're tired from scrubbing the paint out of your hair, but now simon is home, and he's here, and your son sobbed in your arms blubbering about how much he loves you, how he's sorry.

"you come home, and everything..." you sniffle, "everything just gets better again. i-i...why am i so bad at this, simon?"

"you're not bad," simon tells you. "i'm the bastard, baby. the one leavin' ya here...all alone..." he sighs. he pushes your hair out of your face, thumbing at your cheek. "work so hard, love. make my life so easy."

"easy?" your eyes water. you reach up and clutch his forearm, leaning into him. "what you do is so hard, simon. a-and...and so scary."

simon shakes his head, meeting your eyes. you look tired. you look beautiful, but you look tired, and he feels it—he knew one day he would feel it, but he didn't realize that day would come so soon. it's time. it's time for him to come home. it's time to put the papers in, to stomach the desk job, to bite the bullet, because he won't leave you and come back like this. not again. he can't do it. not to you.

"my pretty girl," simon mutters. he licks over his teeth, moving his hand lower to cup your jaw in a big palm. you arch up to meet him, fisting his shirt, and you open your mouth as he bends to kiss you. his tongue is hot against yours; he devours you from the inside out, kissing you wet and eager. you whimper softly, sinking into him, and he smiles into the kiss when he feels you nearly liquefy underneath him. "open, swee'eart."

you do. you let your jaw hinge and mouth fall open, and you accept his fingers easily. you tongue at the pads of his fingers, closing your mouth around them and sucking softly. when he removes them, he slips them under the shirt you wear, where he finds you soft and warm and wet between the thighs. he tucks his fingers under the gusset of your panties, and he feels all the blood swell into his cock when he has to feel between a nearly full bush to find your puffy clit.

"didn't want to touch it while you were gone," you whisper.

"yeah?" simon smirks, slipping two fingers inside of you. his thumb keeps its place on your clit, and your toes curl as you leak onto his palm. "why's tha', love?"

"b-because...because..."

"cause why, baby?"

"cause...c-cause it's yours, simon. your pussy."

"tha's right," simon hums. "my pussy."

[dmitriene]

simon riley is the man that rarely wears any shirts when he's at home, and you match him well, trotting around with no pants, wearing exactly one of his pajama, loose button up blouses, fabric long enough to stream down and sway at your supple thighs, a one of the most tantalizing sights, for sure, while he's left wearing the matching pants, hanging low on his wide hips.

you get to gape at the pretty body of his for days on end, at the way his scarred, tissued skin pulls taut over the rippling, sinewy muscles of his stretched out shoulders and ample chest, defined pectorals less soft than his stomach are, padded with a squishy looking, healthy layer of fat that hides the couple sculpted cubs of his abdominal muscles, underbelly sticking right atop the treasure tail of his happy hairs, turning more brunette where they run beneath the waistband.

the sharp, cut standing line that separates simon's waist from his hips makes you stare like a woman starved, roving all over everything you can set your enraptured gaze at, and it's a hard work to hold the simmering heat from flooding your face wholly, as if you didn't saw him like that before, and more than that, completely naked as well, but he's always an eye candy, messy all over from his tousled hair to naked feet, pale morning sun playing along to glow up his features.

you're not the only one to look, though, the unwavering, molten gaze of his amber eyes watching you from every corner of the house, hungry, attentively, tracing the swell of your ass that is clad in nothing more than a skimpy pair of panties he get's to see when you bend over, or stretch up with your hands, making this blouse on you ride up, bunching into uneven folds, revealing glimpses of skin, round thighs and plump asscheeks, that he strives to squeeze and feel over his own.

there's pure greed when you paw at each other, not a single routine duty in the house passes without you and simon making out with each other, his roughened hands cupping over your curves and full parts he can fondle, your nails raking up from his waist and to his chest, crossing over line of spine and digging there, whispering with heat and desperation mingled when your mouthes meet, clattering teeth's and tongues fighting.

an obsession with each other, nothing less, and it's the best relationship in the world, where you can present yourself with need and want, body bracing over and down every surface imaginable, and he's already there, your sweet, gorgeous simon, with his cock standing ready and proud, slit beady with dripping precum, just as wet as your pussy, gushing and twitching in excitement, inviting him closer, in, until you both sate that chaotic need.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[maluconino]

One rule your boyfriend has for you posting dress pics to social media

He gets to be in the background of the mirror

The last time your co-workers hit on you because of the first photo, you tried to explain that you have a boyfriend and he will kick anyone's ass if they hit on you. They laughed and said they can take his little ass anytime.

So now, here you are

Dress clad on, flowers in hue that compliments your skin tone and smile

His strong arm secured around your waist, your phone in the other hand taking the picture

It looked like a beast holding a delicate flower in his palm

The mirror pic was all they needed to see that your boyfriend, wasn't some lil boy

But a big ass man with a stone eyed look, and arm muscles bigger than your head

Needless to say, they still had the balls to comment on the post, but not in person anymore

[softaestluv]

obsessed with the idea of onlyfans model! reader x Simon

Maybe you’re one of the biggest creators on the platform and you’re very well known after doing it for a few years. Except, you only do solo content, despite your peers constantly asking to collab or getting requests from fans to see you getting fucked.

Then, one day you post a video showing off some new panties and Simon’s tattooed and scarred hand just appears, squeezing the meat of your ass, claiming and possessive. A subtle message he’s sending to your audience as he spreads your cheeks apart, sliding your panties to the side and shows off your pretty pussy dripping with his cum.

[skyrigel]

Simon with acne, and his balaclava only inflaming the skin.

It's so accidentally when you saw his face bare, and he expected some laugh, or nagging, or even a sneer. But you didn't give any off handed remark or say anything, you just left wordlessly — and it's even worse because Simon thought that you thought he's ugly.

Just next day Simon happened to find a box with homemade face mask which smelled heavily of cinnamon and honey, and a small tube with many iupac names all at once.

There was a note as well in your handwriting sticked over the box lid, “20 minutes then tube, for good skin Mr. handsome Riley”

And that's how Simon was found looking for a ring next week.

Masterlist

[manicrouge]

'I'm too old to do anythin' like that now,' Simon says, shaking his head.

'But daddy,' whines the little girl standing in front of him, her small hands tugging at his black t-shirt, 'mummy was telling me all about how you a- and my uncles used to save the world and I wanna learn cause I wanna be just like you!'

He lifts his head, spying you standing in the doorway with a bright grin on your face. 'What you tellin' her that for?'

'Because she wants to know how to beat the boys in the street when they're having water fights,' you say, 'thought your military experience would come in handy.'

'They're always laughin' at me,' she pouts, 'and sayin' I can't fight cause I'm a girl.'

There's a switch that is flipped at her confession and when he looks to her and then raises his head to look at you, you swear you're looking at the Lieutenant instead of your husband.

'Is that so?' he asks, to which your daughter nods her head quickly. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it happily. 'We'll teach them to mess with a Riley, ey sweet pea?'

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Taking a break from my evening study session to scroll your blog and I find it so funny how all writers just have so many wips and we tend to just ask someone to pick for us pffft

Oh and as a fellow former gym rat looking gooood :O

It's a writing thing. It happened to me in the Witcher as well, and I rattled off over a million words when that had me in a chokehold. You know you're a Writer (capital W) when the ideas are running you down with pitchforks. My partner picked Nikolai bottoming for Price because, in his words, "I want that bear destroyed". Who am I to say no?

And cheers, mate. I've worked hard. I started at 40% body fat and 90kg, and I'm a short little runt so I didn't carry it well. I'm proud of my progress and I'll be 69 (eyy) and 14% by Christmas. First time seeing my abs since I was 19. 😅

[pinkthxt]

ExHusband!Simon Riley and his ex-wife who always made him lunches

Simon Riley wasn’t really the kind of man you’d expect to take care of himself, at least not in the long run. Sure, he showered, brushed his teeth, etc., etc.

But the one thing he always forgot to do was eat. It wasn’t on purpose—the man just never remembered, always justifying his forgetfulness with things like:

“Forgot my lunch at home.”

“Not really that hungry.”

For a man who was constantly working, training, and using his body like it was made of steel, it was expected that he would put some nutrition into it—but he didn’t. At least, not now. Not after he and his ex-wife finalized the divorce.

Simon remembers the days when his pretty little wife would pack his lunches into one of those lunchboxes that could heat up at certain times, keeping his food warm and ready.

Or when he’d dig through the damned thing, sometimes burning himself in the process (he’d always be too eager to turn it off before sticking his hand in). Just to see the note his pretty little wife would leave him, saying things along the lines of—

“Love you, soldier. Have a good day!” With a kiss mark next to it.

Sometimes, he would even keep the note, but he wouldn’t mention it—just gave her a sweet kiss when he got home.

When he was deployed for weeks—months on end—he’d hate the shitty food he was given, always craving a home-cooked meal from his favorite girl. Thinking about her at the stove, cooking something up for him—always for him.

Now, he sat on a foldable hard plastic chair, one of those shitty ones you could store in a closet. Glancing down at his palm, his eyes flickered over the note—her handwriting. He imagined what she would’ve cooked for him today.

Simon liked to imagine she thought about it too. He wondered if she ever cooked things he liked, just for the hell of it. Even if their marriage ended the way it did, he hoped she still thought about him

masterlist ⋆.˚

Sooo… my first post!

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s always got presents on hand for your birthday and holidays. he’s almost embarrassed about stockpiling gifts for you, all neatly tucked in the back of his closet… almost. that nagging embarrassment is quick to fade when your eyes light up, always excited that he bought you something and how, “Simon Riley, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

Roommate!Simon Riley that specifically likes buying you rings. nothing too fancy that would raise your suspicion, but always something shiny and pretty - something he wouldn’t dare tell you how much it cost. silver, gold, anything in between, if he thinks it’d look good on you he buys it. he likes seeing those bands decorate your fingers, reflecting in the light when you happily show them off to friends and family

Roommate!Simon Riley that gets one engraved - his initials delicately printed inside the band. he plays nonchalant, voice even when you notice, “Hm? Engraved is it? Didn’t know.”. you laugh it off, tell him ‘thank you’ before grabbing your phone. he loves when your friends ask you about the jewelry, how you always point to him as the one whose covered you in pretty metals and eye-catching accessories

Roommate!Simon Riley who has a matching ring, your initials engraved on it. snug on his ring finger when he’s at base - pretends it’s a wedding band, that his spouse is waiting for him at home. Simon doesn’t flaunt that ring at home though, not when he can have you tucked against his side. no, Simon doesn’t have that band on his ring finger, he slips it on with his dog tags. tucked under shirt, safe and sound on that silver chain as he holds you tightly

[bi-writes]

ok ok how about mute?ghost who you aren't sure if he's actually mute or if he just chooses not to say anything. you hear a different answer from everyone you ask. (18+)

ever since mexico, wouldn't say a fucking word.

nah, mate, he's been zipped shut since he enlisted.

heard it was a mad accident.

what you mean? heard him telling off privates not even a year ago!

well, since you're a certified yapper, and ghost can't (won't) tell you to shut up, you make him your living diary. whenever you see him around, you sit next to him, stop by his office, hop up onto his desk and talk to him. you tell him about your day, about the recruits that bother you the most, about the meals in the mess hall being worse on saturdays than on mondays (fuck, you'd think the weekend would put some pep in their step, no?).

but gosh, when ghost finally had you seated in his lap with your pants around one ankle, you really weren't expecting to hear him.

pussy-drunk, tongue out, hands gripping your ass as he listens to the wet smack of your thighs against his, and that's all it takes for him to let out the filthiest groan you've ever heard, enough to make you spiral, see red-hot stars, to shake and cry until you're cumming and babbling and even more incoherent.

when they talk about ghost, you still keep your mouth shut. you're still not sure if he talks, fuck if i know, is what you say.

but if you suck his cock just right, you're certain he's singing.

[dmitriene]

cw: omegaverse, mating.

simon ghost riley knows well that you're a really skittish omega, his mate, too, which makes it all only more problematic, but it's shouldn't be an issue for him, not at all, he's sure that if he'll treat you right, pamper and stroke over where you tense in defense, you'll rub your face against his neck and purr sweet little sounds only for his ears alone, so he makes it his mission.

he let's you hiss and scratch all you want, slap his outstretched, offered hand, rumble like a fierce thing when he brushes a thumb down your neck, thumbing over the sensitive curve where your gland hides, blooming ripe and mouthwatering with the most luscious scent ever, and when you see the way his searing, amber eyes eclipse with dilating, opaque darkness, tracing a path of shivers over your skin from his gaze alone, you flee.

you make simon stalk you all around, to dig in the littlest corners you hide in to make sure you're nourished and feeling alright, no fever, no heat, no bite mark from someone who would dare to try, and the unmistakable care that sizzles calmly in his softened eyes makes you warm up, just a little bit, enough to not bite his hand off when he smoothes a palm over your head, or brings you some food he thinks you should have in your ration to be a healthy omega.

reluctantly, he get's to court you, as much as it can be called so, holding his hand barely from touching the small of your back as you walk beside him, the distance between you two getting smaller and smaller, but still there, when you glare daggers at him should he try to smell you, or tense as he touches you accidentally, only a brush, yet, you shiver and lean away, suppressing the flutter of warmth that creeps up your belly.

simon learns that you panic at the permeating scent of alpha pheromones the hard way, when he let's them out, noticing the lingering gazes of the unruly mutts around him that eye you like some bone, and he can't stand it at all, the lurking gazes, how oblivious you are, walking around unmarked, not mated probably, a shame to him, but he tries to be gentle, to take his time with you, yet he can't control the menacing sourness of his scent, acrid against your sensitive sense of smell.

it's scares you, the tang of menacity you pick up on, the way his lips pull up in a snarl, and when he growls, gravelly and loud, you let out an uncontrollable, instinctive whimper, shrinking in the bow of your body, trying to curl, hide, shield yourself with a sharp distress to your pleasantly sweet scent, whirling around your shivering form in waves that reach out to simon, distracting, forcing the haze of an possessing anger dissipate, leaving behind a pang of a quilt.

simon would apologize to you in private, properly, where he'd be able to persuade you to let him show how sorry he is for making you so uncomfortable, with your quivering legs spread wide, dangling at his broad, stretched out shoulders, and his drooling mouth devouring your sweet cunt, pulsing and soppy all over his twisting tongue, the pitch high keen of your voice a delight to his ears, and maybe, just maybe, you'll let him stick in with a tip, perhaps.

he just wants to make sure you'll be safe if he's suddenly wouldn't be any near you, and he was acting so good all the time, even with his gums aching to bite into the tender flesh of your neck, lick over your scent gland, make it swell, and when he does makes you gush in his mouth, swallowing gulps of your slick until dry, limbs boneless, toes spasming in a curl, you don't fight off the feel of his crooked nose digging in the curve of your sweaty neck.

your glassy eyes flutter shut, nails clawing up from simon's shoulders to his cropped hair, sharp, unsure, trying to pull him away and as close as possible, listening to the gravelly, almost purring coo of his voice, soothing your tangled, wracked nerves, and you let him, garbling, mewling, until his sharp canines pierce deep in, chapped, tissued lips suck down to soothe the sting that makes you sob, spine arching painfully, until your body sags completely, useless.

he'd wait for a next, better time to warm you up to try and take his knot, there's no pleasure in forcing you, rushing things, for now, his inner alpha is sated enough, seeing those imprinted dents of his teeth bruising over your neck like a brand, your body cradled close, deep asleep and letting out unguarded, barely audible purrs, humming something illegible as his palm cups over your gland, face nuzzling in the crown of your head, and yes, it's more than enough.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[maluconino]

I honestly think Simon would help female reader straddling his lap hump his cock before they make love.

Her hips sometimes slow down because she doesn't want to cum yet, and his warm hands grasp at her and speed her back up to a harder rhythm.

Her whining in his neck as he groans in her ear how wet she's making his aching cock feel.

His hips meet hers with every grind untill she's cumming on him hard, her slick dripping down his full and heavy balls.

He's stroking her back and running his hand through her hair, telling her it's ok and normal to squirt that hard and he's so proud of her.

Mmmmmmm thick bacon feelings