Retropudding0 - 🍮

Simon Riley watching you shower.

Calloused hands are wrapped around his spit-covered cock, anticipation leaking from his tip as he ruts forward.

Your body is so soapy and wet, glistening under the light as you scrub yourself, bending over to reach your legs.

He almost cums instantly when you grab the shower head and switch the setting, holding it to your clit as you moan, tits jiggling as your body shakes.

Poor Simon, it was too much watching your foamy tits bounce as you orgasmed, a cry leaving your lips as he spills himself all over his hand, letting out a groan as you look.

You quickly squeal, attempting to cover yourself before he’s running down the hall like a madman, slamming his door shut.

Jealous!Ghost does something to me… sorry

He was everywhere, balls slapping heavily against the fat of your ass, your spine nestled into the wall as he fucked into you, cock splitting you open with the desirous intention to ruin you for anyone else.

“You gonna fucking talk to him again, hm?” He spat, licking a stripe of your neck as he held onto your hips, bruising fingers digging litters of marks against your pretty skin.

“N-No Simon,” you whined, hiccuping as he thrusted back into you, his voice menacingly low as he growled low in his chest. Your neck was stained with dark hickies, marks that Ghost needed everyone to see, especially the incapable Soldier who decided that sparring with you was appropriate.

“Fucking slut, ain’t you? My dicks not enough for ye’ or something? Gotta get it from everyone?”

His words shot through you as you choked out a moan, angry tip nudging your sweet spots with a fiery force, heat penetrating through you. His eyes were shot into slits, a possessive glint controlling every movement as he muttered into your neck.

“I see you around him again and I’ll kill ‘em, you hear me?”

You nodded against the wall, lower back aching at the constant pressure of being slammed against it during his fuelled assault against your squelching cunt.

Ghost didn’t say anything after he emptied inside you, guttural groan leaving his lips as he pulled out, dropping you to your feet and leaving in an aggravated hunch, your legs shaking as you tried to squeak out a ‘wait’.

big rough hands under thin cotton nightgown gripping soft plush skin in the early hours of the morning

simon riley who becomes even more smitten with his wife whenever she's angry at him. he doesn't know why, but seeing her scold him for something as simple as forgetting to put the toilet seat down or forgetting to grab a tub of ice cream just makes him grin. it makes him want to gently remind her who's in charge (at least in the bedroom; he knows how much power she has over him. he's weak to her).

all he has to do is cup her face and coo, "i'm sorry lovie, i'll do better." and suddenly she's not very mad anymore. if that doesn't work, he just pushes her against the nearest surface and eats her out until she's a babbling mess (he tried doing that in public one time; she waited until they got in the car to complain about that too).

her attitude rarely gets to him though. if anything, it just turns him on. although if she gets too mouthy, he'll just let her yap without saying anything, just staring down at her. that's when she knows she's in actual trouble.

after she mellows out and simon finishes having his fill of her, she'll get very shy and grumble at him for that dirty trick she falls for every time. "did i not do enough of a good job love? need another round?" she shuts up after that, turning her heated face away from simon's smug grin, the bastard.

the silent stares from opposing corners of the room were deafening. the way he watched you sit, casting fleeting glances around the room at price and gaz. the way your left hand would absentmindedly pick at your right thumbnail.

you adjusted your position in your seat acutely aware of the weight of his lingering gaze on you. as your eyes wandered over to meet his, he quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on price’s presentation.

moments later, his sunken, pitiful eyes found yours again. as he blinked, his warm, brown irises briefly vanished into the abyss of smudged eyeblack he coated his face in.

you wondered what his face looked like without it. what emotions lay hidden underneath this façade.

despite your initial uncertainty, his presence had become a sense of comfort - a quiet reassurance he was always there. knowing he was always watching you, analysing you, protecting you.

you felt a strange thrill knowing each stolen glance between you held a deeper connection that neither of you could quite articulate.