#simon riley is a good man

[mrssoapmactavish]

penny for your thoughts

content warning: mature themes, talk of death, gore, violence, mature language.

synopsis: flukey and ghost have a chat about the inevitability of the end. they make a promise that neither of them reach that point prematurely.

flukey is an oc.

in the words of her lieutenant, fuckin' hell.

flukey hadn't been this unfortunate on a mission since she was a rookie, back in days long past.

but alas, here she is, self-barricaded on the roof of a compromised building on a black-ops mission, a stab wound in her thigh placed in such a position that she'd need a bit of physical therapy and proper recovery to ensure she isn't limping for the rest of her days.

if she doesn't die on this mission, her mind curses, she'll be absolutely fucked.

a deep breath leaves her as she keeps one hand pressed against the make-shift bandaging she's used, the warmth of her life-giving liquid seeping out under her fingers, staining her skin.

"this is bravo 0-7, flukey, how copy?" there's the voice she's used to. the stoic tone of her manchester lieutenant, finally coming through. if there was a god, he'd be right stoked. "bravo 0-7, flukey, how copy?"

the aussie reaches for the walkie strapped to her vest, reaching and pressing the button, her voice much more strained than she would've liked it to be. can't be weak in front of your CO, eh? not when that bugger's taken more than a few bullets in front of ya.

"this is flukey, solid copy." is all she can get out, letting go of the button and letting out a deep exhale and a groan of pain, the last of the adrenaline having finally worn off, leaving her in nothing but agony.

"thought you were gone." ghost grumbles over the comms, making a soft laugh leave her trembling lips, fingers going to clamp around the button. "fuckin' nearly did, one of those cunts got me good."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, before a gruff little sigh leaves her superior. "keep those eyes open, fluke. give me some landmarks so i can find you."

"could just drop a flare, it's a fuckin' ghost town 'round here. what with how many squirters got dropped," flukey responds, a soft sigh leaving her as she feels her pulse start to fluctuate under the hand on her wound.

"that gives you away. landmarks, fluke." there's that tone again, the one that says 'i'm the boss man, listen to me or die.'

"shit, ghost, you're really pullin' me bum leg here," she jokes, though because it's met with silence, she sighs softly. "m'on the big skyscraper, one with the fuckin' thirty floors of windows. f'i look over the ledge, i can see a fountain, fuckin' city plaza."

another moment of her pained silence, struggling to keep herself both awake and grounded, until that voice chimes in; "was that so hard?"

"respectfully, sir, get stuffed." "glad to see you've got enough energy to get mouthy."

now that is funny, at least to flukey's blood-loss addled mind, too straddled with the impending possibility of permanent corpse status, so she laughs, unrestrained and pained, over the line.

"coulda used a big ol' shadow like you out there, lt. maybe it'd be a grave 'stead of this bullshit, got me bludgin' around. not sure i'll even make it outta this, sir." her mind is slipping away from herself, but her tongue is looser than ever– which is saying something, since she knows why bloody mactavish always gets her right hosed.

she can hear him in her head, right now. "flukey, if ye're gonna convince me you can knock back a few pints, ye've got to keep yer mouth shut 'bout it, steamin jesus, hen."

"you will make it out of this, sergeant. keep those eyes open. talk if you have to." ghost's voice is, quite honestly, the only thing keeping her fighting off that urge to just rest, close her eyes, let sleep swallow her whole.

"aw, ghost, y'gettin' all soft on me. not so much of an ankle biter now, am i?" "watch it, fluke. no one's here but us, no one'll know you died of strangulation." "takin' the piss, aye? here i was, thinkin' you an' johnny were a couple o'..." a cough interrupts her sentence, appropriately shutting her up, a satisfied rumble leaving the lieutenant because of it. can't have her insinuating he's getting busy with his sergeant, after all!

"aye, lt. penny for y'thoughts?" fluke speaks, voice soft and quiet, her eyes wandering down to the somewhat exposed skin around the gash, watching carefully as she eyes her fingertips turning a tint of white best left for ghosts made from sheets.

or the mask, her mind readily supplies.

"worth more than that," ghost grunts, entertaining her words, if not to keep her from retreating into the ending moments of her life, to see if everything really does flash before your eyes like they say.

"mm, how 'bout a pint then? pint for yer thoughts? and f'christ's sake, ghost, if i hear a joke, 'll fuckin' bury you out in the bush behind me house." she suggests, in no place or state of mind to be threatening the man willing to scale such a large building– likely not fully clear, to be plain– in order to save her.

"pint sounds fair," the man's voice rumbles, before he's quiet a moment. "entering the building. hang in there."

fluke isn't aware of how long her eyes close, though she's torn from the warm, loving embrace of death herself by the voice coming through her walkie.

"think you're not that lucky this time." "aww, bugger off." this is enough to get a rare, subtle chuckle from the lieutenant, M4 raised as he continues to sweep the building floor by floor, making his way up to the sergeant in distress.

"... think you're too young to be out here, dyin' on me." the man tells her, quiet honesty being enough to give the woman a small surge of confidence and keep her awake just a bit longer.

"so 've grown on ye, aye? cheeky. good on ye, finally gettin' in touch with your feelins', daft cunt." another laugh, this one bringing a ring of panic into ghost's mind, one that urges him to hurry the fuck up.

"think we make a deal, you and i." "yeh? what'ye want, my fuckin' leg? y'can take it, f'you get me outta here." "not quite. think we need to watch each other's back a bit more."

there's silence for a moment, flukey finally speaking up again. "sentimental. keep talkin'."

"neither of us dies out on the field. how's that for a deal?"

the prospect, especially when you feel so close to seeing your family up in the peaceful beyond, seems incredulous. though, even if it's a dying woman's wish, might as well humour him, one last time.

"...alright, sappy bugger. ye got yerself a deal." she answers, closing her eyes to rest again, the voice on the other line tapering off in the recesses of her mind, echoing like a bell in a clock tower.

it's not that much longer before her body, mostly limp, is lifted from the top of the roof by a rough brit who prays to a god long forgotten by him that the redhead makes it back to base alive enough that he hears about some shitty story of the outback.

[temeyes]

redrew an [old Ghost sketch] (cuz im wearing the same sweater rn lol!!)

[namikawa]

the thoughts that i have about simon riley need to be studied. he’s just so.. big. everywhere. and when he’s digging into your sweet pussy after being gone for a few weeks, it feels like he’s exactly that. EVERYWHERE. his hands are roaming around your body, grabbing at those soft hips he can’t get enough of while telling you in your ear how much he’s missed you and been craving this. “shit, sucking me in so tight, get the feeling you missed me too, huh?” he’s immediately moving down to your neck to suck and bite on it, forcing reactions out of you (of course he’s not complaining) and you can’t forget the way his cock is drilling into you at just the right angle, hitting that sweet spot again n again n again until you’re a shaking mess below his frame. he’s nowhere near done though, sliding down to lick your mess up, most definitely overstimulating you. don’t worry, he’ll clean you up real nice so he can get right back at it. forcing your legs close to your head with one hand and slowly massaging your ass with the other. he’s a gentleman, wanting to make sure you’re completely comfortable and taken care of before he gets what he needs out of you. giving you the false promise of “just one more time, dear” because, as he says, “haven’t seen you in so long, pretty” when in all actuality his mission was only 3 days.

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[pettyprocrastination]

As much as I love Ghost and the idea of him as a dad. the road to get there is a fucking long one. 

Your relationship with Simon is one that despite how long it’s been going on for- neither of you have put a name on it. You know he cares about you- it’s seen in the way he scolds you when you don’t lock the door or curses your shitty apartment while also fixing your air conditioning when it breaks down every summer. 

You’ve compared him to a stray cat. One you have to let come to you on it’s own, otherwise it will only flee. 

When he’s on leave he goes to you. When he isnt- you don’t know a single fucking thing about where he is, what he’s doing, or if he’ll even come back. 

When the time comes and you sit him down to tell him the truth, that your pregnant and you’re keeping the baby whether he wants to be involved in their life or not? 

He leaves. 

Some words are exchanged beforehand and an argument probably breaks out that leads to you calling him a myriad of names that may even culminate in saying he’d be a shitty father anyways (you don’t beleive it. He does) but he gets up and walks out of your life because in his mind that’s the kindest thing he can do for you and his child. 

He’s still a dead man with a target on his back and as long as he’s in the field, that will never change. Getting involved with you past the initial fling was already dangerous enough (something he would call himself selfish for pursuing) but now there’s a baby that will have your eyes and his nose and christ he can’t risk it. 

So he walks out of your life. 

Now once the initial shock and emotions wear off, it should be said he still watches over you of course. If Simon’s on leave he’ll check in on you, watch from the shadows as you carry groceries to your car wearing a hoodie of his that keeps your swollen belly warm as you outgrow your clothes. He’ll keep an eye on any new, over-eager neighbors or any potential bachelor your friends try to set you up with. 

Maybe you feel a shadow pass by your window at night or when you leave your check-up from the doctor but pass it off as your anxieties getting the best of you. 

It could easily be classified as stalking. It is stalking, but it’s the closest he can come to protecting you, in his own way of thinking. To support you from afar is to keep you out of the danger he puts people in simply by knowing him. Even if it means hurting you both in the process. 

Maybe something happens. You give birth or a missions turned sour and he needs to see you, touch you to know you're safe and well or maybe the thought of not being there to keep you safe at all times could lead to you and his baby’s death just like Tommy's becomes all too consuming until one night he shows up on your doorstep while there’s a baby hanging off your arm and hellfire brimming in your eyes. 

[thesmuttyduchess]

[delusionalwhre]

Knew I was fucked when I first saw him when I was 5 and I felt something in my stomach

[reds-skull]

To celebrate finishing all my uni projects (finally!!!), I drew the 141 because I kinda forgot how rip

Also painted in Gaz because I like how he turned out the most

[cerise-on-top]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTF1nJ4tc/

I saw this TikTok and immediately thought about the 141 and their snakes. Can you do a scenario where the reader gifts a snake cozy that they made to the 141? Could you imagine a giant one for Johhny’s Burmese python 😭

(Also, maybe you could add Simon bonding with his snake. Nothing extreme, maybe just him tolerating looking at the creature without having a full blown panic attack.

Hey there! Of course I can ^^

Giving the 141’s Snakes a Cozy Ring

Price: Oh, Price would absolutely love you giving his snake some gifts that you made yourself. Yes, he’s aware that you gifted him Mister Slithers and that it’s his responsibility now. But! You’re giving him a self made gift for the little critter? He’s gonna pull you into the biggest hug and give you the biggest smile he can muster. I think Price would invite you over to his home so he can give Mister Slithers its new cozy little ring to get all comfy in. As soon as it goes in? He’s gonna take a million pictures of it poking out of its little hidey hole. He knows you’re good at handling snakes, so he’s gonna let you touch and pet Mister Slithers while you’re over. Besides, the little snake is a good sport anyway, it has never bitten anyone before! If you have a lot of snakes yourself, then Price is probably going to research a little something to gift you in return. I don’t think he’d be able to make his own cozy ring like that, but he might give you a new little something for your reptiles to hide in. He wants to share his love for snakes with you as well. Is gonna send you some pictures here and there of Mister Slithers chilling in its cozy ring while on his chest.

Gaz: There’s a good chance snake Kyle would ignore its new lil cozy ring at first. Human Kyle would need to usher it into it at first. Not that he threatens it into it, but it might need a little motivation to get in there. But when it does? Well, on the outside, Gaz tries to not seem too excited. But on the inside? He’s absolutely losing it. The snake looks absolutely adorable in its little cozy ring. He’s gonna take a trillion pictures and send you all of those. He loves snake Kyle so much, he wishes he was able to take it on walks as well. But he would never want to put a leash on it, even if he could. He loves giving his snake all the freedom it could possibly ever have. Within the moderation of safety, of course. I think once he’s seen it being all cozy in its cozy ring, he’d love to get snake sweaters for it as well. Just some small tube made of soft fabric, hand made, for his little critter to slither into and feel good and warm in. Though, I do think he’d commission you to make something like that for him. And he will pay four times the price that you ask for. Will also give you money if you want to give it to him for free.

Ghost: He’d probably give you a thousand yard stare if you tell him it’s for the snake. Honestly? He probably tries to forget he has it in the first place until it’s feeding time again. You’d probably have to show him how to use it. The snake would probably love you, so it’d crawl in without much of a fuss, refusing to get out again. Even Ghost had to admit that it looked kinda cozy in its fluffy little ring. As much as he hated that critter, it looked kinda cute with its little head poking out. He’d thank you and let you play with the snake until you had to go again, leaving him alone with it. It would probably refuse to get out of the ring, feeling safer in it as it would believe Ghost wouldn’t be able to spot it. He’d probably leave the ring in its enclosure. Though, he would sometimes walk over to the terrarium and see how it was doing from then on. He wouldn’t really interact with it, he’d just watch it go about its day, lying underneath the warm lamp, drinking a little bit of water and whatnot. When he watches the snake drink some water? Well, it’s kinda cute how it dunks its entire head in and opens its mouth a little bit. Don’t get me wrong, he still wouldn’t touch it without gloves, but his skin wouldn’t crawl as much anymore when he watches it. It’s tiny, it’s not venomous, and it certainly seems more afraid of him than he is of it. He could probably beat it in a fight. Sometimes the two of them can be caught staring at each other.

Soap: “Ach, bonnie, how’s Sniffer supposed to fit in there?” And then, like the mad lad the snake is, it actually fits in there. Soap would probably invite you over for a drink or two so he can show you just how big Sniffer’s gotten. It’s not as fun since you’re not afraid of touching a snake, or of snakes in general, but it’s nice to chat with you a little bit. I do think he’s gonna hold the cozy ring open right in front of Sniffer for it to slither into, and it actually does. Soap will probably carry the entire ring with the snake in it to you to show you how strong he is and how adorable Sniffer is. Will probably let you feed it as well, regardless of whether or not it’s been fed. He just wants to bond with you. Will probably leave the cozy ring in the shed for the snake to enjoy. Sometimes he does walk in on Sniffer being in the middle of enjoying a nap in its fluffy little, or big, ring. He probably bothers the snake and wakes it up by giving it a *pap pap* as some pats. Doesn’t matter if you’re a human or a reptile, John Soap MacTavish will bother you either way. He’s totally gonna put the ring on top of himself while Sniffer is in it. After all, snakes do enjoy warmth, don’t they? And Soap is probably the warmest person you’ll ever meet.

(For reference what it looks like:)

[temeyes]

still sick ahu, tweaked the [portrait] i made of Simon from last year to cope

[vixen7243]

Mirror

When ever Price has a small meeting or chat in his office and the door is closed, everyone always gets confused by the full length mirror hanging on the back side of it. Wondering how he got it in and what the hell it's purpose would be, Price didn't seem like a vain man, and it's not like he doesn't wear anything outside of the 5-6 different shirts and 4-5 different pants. Even his own task force was confused by the mirror when they first saw it.... well all of them except for you. You knew very well why he had it, he showed you why he got it many, many ,many times. Smiling to yourself as Kyle and Johnny wonder if their captain actually sleeps in his office like they always joke about and where he could be hiding his bed. Sitting in the office with everyone, the two continued to ask Price about the mirror, all while he stole little glances at you, who in fact was biting your own lip to suppress the growing smirk as you stared at the mirror last nights escapades running through your mind.

Looking at John and the way his eyes darkened when you finally looked to him made you fully smile, knowing he was thinking about last night as well. The way he had you sitting on his desk, forcing you to look into the mirror as he played with you cunny, one hand slowly unbuttoning your blouse while he kissed a trail down your neck and suckling on the skin on your shoulder leaving hickys that no one will see. Smiling as your moved your hips to meet his fingers you focused on his fingers dipping into you. "Such a needy little sergeant. What would the others do if they knew how wet you get when being put on display? " Groaning you looked up to his dark eyes, drool slowly building at the corner or your lips. "Want them to sit here and watch as I break you apart, mirror giving the beautiful display that they will watch?" Huffing you looked at the mirror, god he was addicted to the thing, loved making you watch him ruin you. He had one in his room, put one in yours, which you had no clue at all how he got into your room to set it up but you excepted it when he fucked you stupid that night. God he even set one up on every room in your shared home, which no one knew about. How you two could secretly date behind your teams back without them knowing for a year and a half you couldn't figure out, considering Johnny always tried to hit on you and Kyle loved the hunt and getting you before anyone else or so he says. Simon, he's the watcher, you weren't sure if he suspected anything and if he was interested but you figured you would leave him be rather than accidently spilling the beans.

Glancing at said watcher, you froze, you knew under that baclava that he was smiling, his eyes were squinted and as he looked between you and the mirror then to John you knew, he some how knew. As you all were dismissed, John asked you to stay back, saying he needed to ask you some things on a form you turned in. Simon leaned towards you momentarily as he walk passed you, "If your that into mirrors visit my room tonight."

Eyes widening momentarily you watched as he walked out of the office, looking at you winking as he shut the door, your reflect looking right back at you. Spinning your head to John who walked around the desk and leaned against it arms crossed. "What a little tease sergeant."

---

Idk just word vomit and a need to get this at least started.🤷🏼‍♀️

[s0fter-sin]

god the way ghost’s voice drops when he tells soap, “you’ll need to improvise to survive”

before that, everything he says is steady but when he acknowledges that soap’ll have to do something outside his skill set, something he intimately knows to be difficult, his voice wavers. he does the same when he says, “welcome to guerrilla warfare”; it’s sombre and serious in a way he doesn’t act for the rest of the mission. if you read into it enough, he almost sounds apologetic; like he knows exactly what soap’s about to go through and wishes he didn’t have to

he keeps soap going; poking at him and making jokes, giving him tips and asking about his progress. he never lets him stop and take a second to think bc he knows the moment he does is the moment it'll all hit him; the betrayal, the pain, the fear, the deaths, all of it will drown him and if that happens, soap won't make it

he needs him to be a soldier through and through and he knows this is one of the worst kinds of battlefields you could end up on

and the only times he slips is when he acknowledges that fact

it happens again when he says, "tryin' to get you here alive and in one piece". his jovial dark humour facade drops for just a moment when he has to face the potential reality of losing soap. then he tries to pick it back up again with, "one of us has to survive to tell the tale"; completely discounting himself as a survivor to try and rally soap and make him think it’s all down to him

and soap does the same thing

when he's calling out for ghost on the radio, he's tentative, testing the frequency, then when he doesn’t get a response, he grows desperate; "ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?"

then when ghost answers, he smooths out his voice; he hides the pain, the fear, and no matter what response you give to ghost asking if he’s injured, soap brushes it off (“i’m good”, “what’s the difference?”, “i’m not a medic”). soap decides it’s in ghost’s best interest to hide the extent of his injuries

he doesn’t know where ghost is, if he’s secure, if he has any weapons; he doesn’t even know if he’s in las almas until he says, “there’s a church, i’m headed to it”. for all he knows, he could’ve run in the complete opposite direction. if ghost knows he’s hurt, then his attention would be split between his own survival and soap’s

and soap, who lets himself be poked and prodded towards the church, needs to hide his own doubts. maybe he needs ghost to believe he'll make it so he himself can believe it ("what are my odds?" "don't make me bet against you", "think i'll live that long?" "probably not")

he all but begs ghost to tell him he'll get through it and if he knows just how bad off he is, maybe he'll change his mind. maybe he'll think he won't make it to the church

maybe he'll leave him alone for good

"you injured?"

"i’m good"

"let's find out how good you are"

[toshidou]

hea r me out ,,, sub ghost ,,,,

oh anon, how i love you

word count // 1.3k

tags // 18+ only, sub!ghost, dom!reader, rope, handcuffs, vibrator wand, ghost calls reader mommy and it nearly kills him and his pride but he did it (proud of him), face sitting, cunnilingus, hair pulling, multiple orgasms (from simon, lucky boy)

Simon Riley is not a man who gets the opportunity to let go very often, if in fact at all. He knows what’s expected of him, whether it be the stern, serious lieutenant, or the Ghost, a mere myth to military personnel all over the globe. He knows the role he’s been assigned, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go above and beyond the expectations set for him. 

He once foolishly thought that he was a man who could cheat his own biology, somehow convincing himself that he could outrun the stress and near debilitating exhaustion. That was until you offered him a rather different solution. An arrangement that worked well for both of you, he remembers you saying. You weren’t wrong. Which is how he finds himself handcuffed to the metal bars of your bed frame; Hitachi wand tied against the entire length of his cock. 

“I wonder what your enemies would think if they saw you like this, hm?” Your voice cuts through the fog in his head, forcing his blurred sight to clear just so he could drink in the vision before him. You sit on the end of the bed, maddeningly far from where his body lays prone on the sheets, watching him with wicked eyes as he jolts when the tip of the vibrating wand presses firmly against his frenulum. 

“Going to cum on your pretty stomach for me again, baby?” He doesn’t miss the taunt in your voice, trying to hide the way his cock twitches pathetically at your condescending tone, unable to do anything but part his lips and moan. Being vulnerable was not something he ever thought could come this naturally to him, but something about you made it so easy for Simon to just forget about his place in the world, about the near back breaking burden he carries on his broad shoulders on a daily basis. You help him feel free, by taking away that burden and replacing it with blinding pleasure; all he had to do in return was give you his submission. It was the easiest choice he’s made in a long time. 

“Use your words big boy, I know it’s a lot, but I need you to be a good boy for me, okay?”

“Yeah, fuck, ‘m sorry,” he doesn’t miss the fond gleam to your eye, nor the hand that slides from his knee down to his upper thigh, hissing through his teeth when your touch causes his leg to twitch, jolting the vibrator against his cock, “‘s too much, gonna go fuckin’ insane.”

You hum in response, lidded eyes molten with lust come to rest on the flushed red tip of his cock, pearlescent beads of precum dripping in rivulets down his veined shaft, straining against the rope that secures it to the wand. 

“You mean to tell me that my big strong soldier can’t handle a little vibration?” Any response he has dies in his throat the moment you flick the tip of his cock, shame seeping through his veins when he realises that he just fucking came. Again. He doesn’t know if he wants your mercy, or more, but his dick apparently makes that decision for him, still painfully hard where it lays twitching like a heartbeat against his abdomen. 

“Please,” He grits out, eyes shining with tears formed through over-stimulation, “Please turn it off,” but glassy eyes only serve to widen the grin that stretches so prettily across your face. 

“Please who, Simon?” Oh god. His head droops, chin meeting his chest as he debates whether taking the near torturous, incessant pleasure would be easier than dropping the last of his pride, the last barrier to full submission you haven’t quite been able to squeeze from his stubborn brain. The debate, however, is short lived, cut off by the click of a button and strangled shout as the vibrations kick up a notch, doubling his previous torment. 

“Please mommy, please fuckin’ turn it off, God,” The momentary humiliation dissipates the moment he locks eyes with you, chest heaving with relief as the wand is finally switched off. You look near predatory, pupils dilated so heavily not a shred of colour remains, sharp nails digging so deliciously into the meat of his thigh as you use him as leverage to kneel over his wrecked body. 

“There we go, was that so hard sweetheart?” He nearly preens under your pleased gaze, going near dizzy with how quickly he finds himself sinking under your dominance. It’s nothing like the authority he’s used to wielding, harsh and unforgiving; you control him as easily as one does a puppet, with precision and grace. And he’s fucking obsessed with it, obsessed with you. 

“Want mommy to sit on your face, darling?” You must instantly catch the way he’s eyes widen, how his arms strain against the metal bonds above his head.

“Yes fucking please,” he rasps, saliva quick to settle heavily on his tongue at the mere thought of you seated so prettily on top of his mouth, unable to think of anything other than making you cum on his tongue. He’s practically panting by the time you come to straddle your legs either side of his head, unfocused eyes darting between your face, and glistening folds, so desperately eager to have the taste of you coat his tongue, his lips, his chin, marked so clearly as yours. 

“What’s the magic word again, baby boy?” 

The reply comes so much easier this time. 

“Let me eat you out, mommy, please, I’ll beg if I fuckin’ ‘ave to, just-” Clearly you weren’t interested in hearing anything else he had to say, cutting him off by lowering the rest of your body to met his mouth and rewarding him with the sweet taste of your cunt. He’s sinking deeper, he’s just barely aware of the feeling of pure emptiness and bliss that rolls over his consciousness, no thoughts in his brain other than pleasing you. His tongue laps in strong, desperate strokes against your pussy, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it down like he’s a man starved, as if you were an oasis amidst a barren desert. 

He’s rewarded with your hands forming a tight grip in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that has his hips lifting off the mattress, groaning as he feels the way his biceps flex against solid restraints, desperate to sink his fingers into the soft warm plush of your skin. 

“Doing so fucking well, making me feel so good Simon,” Saccharine words sooth his addled mind, forcing himself to stay afloat just so he can watch the way you begin to fall apart atop him, hips canting against his mouth as you start to ride his tongue with earnest. You barely cast a glance down at him, as if the only thing you care about is chasing the pleasure that lies beneath you. And it really shouldn’t turn him on, the idea that he’s nothing but a vessel for your pleasure, but it really fucking does. 

It only takes a mere minute or two until you’re falling apart above him, your walls spasming around his tongue, thoroughly drenching his face and throat with your cum. He doesn’t stop fucking his tongue into your twitching pussy until you’re dragging your hips from his face, revelling in the frustrated and disappointed whine that slips from his arousal slicked lips. 

“No need to sound so sad, baby, I’ve got a lot more planned for us tonight. So be a good fucking boy and let mommy ride your cock until she’s had her fill.” 

Letting go may not have come easily to Simon, but with you, it’s as natural as breathing.

[kay-rk800]

"Are you ugly?"

"Quite the opposite."

[thesmuttyduchess]

[sadbloodydoll]

I LOVE MASKED MEN