#cod smut thoughts

[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

[dmitriene]

it's takes some time for simon to start being intimate with you, loose himself up just a little bit so he could at least hold your hand in public, accept the sweet, butterfly kisses you press against his cheek each time he's lost in his thoughts again, catching him off guard, and he can't be uncomfortable or nervous when you giggle so treacly and smile at him lovably.

start being the one who initiates touches and kisses, hold you close to his sturdy body with heavy, spanning hands, holding your chin up with a pressing, rubbing thumb, tasting your lips slowly, almost teasingly, brushing and then pulling back, making yours and his lips swell with warmth, cooling down with spit he smears messily.

simon tells you that your first time with him might not be the way you expect, rasped between insistent kisses, his tongue licking in the sweetness of your welcoming mouth, tracing against your palate, and as repulsive as it may sound, he thinks you deserve to know that you shouldn't overestimate your expectations, even through you already know how hard it is for him.

somehow, he ruins the whole image, leaving you not only boneless, but completely cockdrunk, trembling, strained legs dangle uselessly in the air, spread wide to show and see the way your pulsing cunt gushes liquid hot around his fat, pistoning cock, pumping you full enough for you to feel simon in your tummy.

absolutely filthy, purred words scorching warm against the sensitive skin of your ear, soaking in and spreading all over your veins, body warming up as you cling to simon, sink your nails with crescents and entangled lines against his wide shoulders, sputtering, mewling sounds tumbling from between your clenching teeth's, as you keen for more.

simon manages not only prove you both wrong, but also see the way you writhe in complete ecstasy, watch through opaque, inky wells of eyes how you shiver, hips twisting, jerking up as you chase the grinding, ramming feel of his swollen head abusing your spongy spot, spine breaking in a sharp arch, crumpling the sheets, as you sob his name in garbled chants.

you're not crawling out of the bed soon, not with the calloused, rough pads of fingers splayed over your twitching, pebbled clit, not after simon discovers that he can make a girl cum more than twice, hiccuping so prettily after each one, but still holding onto his scratched, almost bleeding hands.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[babyybrii]

simon’s the type of guy who keeps your picture in his vest pocket, hidden behind a spare mag. the type of guy who keeps your hair tie looped around his wrist like it’s tactical gear. the type to take your hand in every grocery store, calloused hands careful not to crush yours. simon’s the type of guy who fucks you facedown into the mattress, hand on the back of your neck, whispering mine like a prayer. the type of guy who won’t let you ride him without holding your hips steady, “you’ll take what I give you, yeah?” the type who keeps your moans on loop in his head when he’s deployed, jerking off to the memory of how you begged him to slow down. the type of guy who won’t stop until your moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. simon’s the type of guy who ruins you with his hands, then holds you like he built you from scratch.

[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."

[maluconino]

Are there any smut fictions like this? Asking for a friend lmao

big fan of John “i know how to fuck my bird” Mactavish, and Simon “no, let me show you how to fuck your bird” Riley

[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.

[rawme-price]

I got tattooed by a tattoo artist named John Price this past weekend, and I needed to tell someone!!!

*sighs dreamily* id let price tattoo me...

Anyways tattoo artist!price who is totally aware of the affect he has on you lol. The first time you went to him it was to add a bit more to ur forearm, a simple design. He saw the way you squirmed as he applied the stencil, how his hand pressed over ur skin. Hes used to it, and expects ur bashfullness to drop once he actually starts and you feel the pain, as many people do.

Except, you only seem to get worse. Hes carefully applying ink, watching the way ur lashes flutter from his sitting position. To your credit, you do stop squirming, but price is pretty sure thats because he started by saying "now sit nice and still for me, okay love? Makes this alot easier."

Then you just...keep coming back. If price were more egotistical he might say its an excuse to see him, but hes seen all the tattoos you already have. Hes just ur favourite artist, nothing more. Though...when you ask him about getting the words "obedient pup" tattood on ur upper thigh he gets a bit suspicious. Maybe just a bit of flirting wont hurt?

So he grins up at you, hand soothing over ur skin "just hold still like a puppy, okay?" To your credit you do stay still, breathing hard and eyes closed, but still. "Hmm..doing good for me." He hums halfway through, mostly to fuck with you.

He pats your back at the end, large hand brushing over ur nape for just a second. "If you ever need someone to hold your leash..." he whispers, slipping a business card with his personal number into ur palm "...ive always been good at keeping people in line."

[maluconino]

Okay so Simon has a small dick, yeah I can probably see that. Now him having it really thick, that's probably Canon. But on top of that I can imagine him having some breeder balls. Something I constantly slaps the reader depending on what position they're in

I'm going to imagine that Johnny tries to shave his pubes into the first initial of female reader's name. And feels horribly and almost files his finger off.

Some fire in the back of my head, is telling me that Johnny also has a piercing, a Jacob's ladder. I don't know it just sounds really Canon as well LMFAO

And Kyle, our sweet sweet boy. Could possibly either have a long rope of a dick, or something that resembles a thickness of a can of soup. Or better yet a healthy mixture of both, with a thick ass tip, and I'm going to say it leans to the left.

John is not one to shave, but he does keep it clean. So that is a bonus, I imagine that he does have a erectile dysfunction maybe like a slight one, but he's so distraught over it that he pretty much just doesn't want to have sex half the time. So the female reader has to slip a blue pill in his coffee early in the morning if she ever wants to have any horizontal polka.

King on the other hand, AKA König, has a Prince Albert I think that's what it's called. And also has his balls pierced. A really nice thick shaft, and just lots of ridges, it's almost like trying to read Braille with your pussy. With the hair on the other hand I don't know, I've seen two different artists now either draw him blonde or with dark brown hair. And I'm kind of all for the dark brown hair. And I'm pretty sure he keeps it clean and trimmed right down to the skin.

Imagine Johnny coming back from deployment and he goes to open 'er (your legs) up and then all you see is horror on his face.

You shaved. That's it. No period, nothing scary down there. But to him?

Guys he's fucking BAWLING. I think if this was his first time since coming back from deployment he'd lose his shit AND ACTUALLY CRY.

"bonnie... Ye shaved 'er bald," he says, having to keep from crying, "what'll keep 'er warm in the winter?"

[bruisedfig]

simon riley does the knee thing when you makeout so you can rub yourself on his thick muscly thigh send tweet

[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

[elysianightsss]

Delivery guy Simon pulls up in his piece of crap ford car, grabs his bright orange just eat bag from the car, slamming the door shut as he walks up to your house. All black attire and sporting no mask, never does during deliveries after being told by his boss it unnerves people you can’t wear that man.

You’re already there before he rings the doorbell, opening the door and giving him a bright smile. Eyes full of hunger, you stomach growling as you inhale the smell of McDonalds. After a shitty week at work you just wanted some junk food to binge on and there was no way you were cooking.

Simon clears his throat out of his temporary freeze, “Here y’a go love.” His deep gravelly voice has your focus off the food he’s picking up and holding out to you in an instance.

You actually look at him and fuck he’s gorgeous. He’s got a couple scars and his nose is crooked, like it’s been broken one too many times for it to be fixed. 6ft 7 at least, he’s built like a damn ox, there are scars on his arms too. If you could even call the both of them that, they’re just as huge as the rest of him. Graced with veins and stretch marks from where the muscles have grown bigger.

He’s a whole ass meal, forget the McDonalds. You’d happily eat him for dinner, just as the thought crosses your mind your gaze shoots down to the giant bulge in his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight and you swear you see it pulse behind the fabric.

Simon happily stands there letting you, fuck you gorgeous little thing in a tank top and short shorts, eye fuck him. A smirk growing on his face as he watches your hungry eyes dart all over his body.

“Hungry love?”

You blush so deep at his words, cheeks and ears burning hot as you mumble out, “Starved.”

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

was just thinking of price punishing his younger gf, by having her naked body pressed to the floor, and her ass perched in the air, just a few feet in front of his desk. he nudges her knees apart, so he can get a better view of her pussy. and he just goes about doing whatever the fuck he does, and he has her there for hours-- her knees aching and back sore from the sharp arch that he's put her in.

john looks up from a piece of paperwork, and he can see the way her pussy flutters; see the way her stomach heaves softly, the soft pushing movement making her pussy leak; juices pooling from her hole, down her swollen folds, and then to her inner thighs. she's creamy and slick; literally dripping onto the carpet, and john is suddenly salivating. and she's been a good girl, no complaints and minimal whines and pleas-- that he can't help but push back from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to get to her.

she's too out of it to really comprehend what's happening before she's mewling out, thighs quivering almost violently as his tongue is suddenly thick and hot against her pussy. john swallows down her slick like a man starved, each curl and pull of his tongue full of her cream, and he rumbles deep in his chest like some kind of beast. his large, meaty hands grip the fat of her hips almost bruisingly as he devours her quivering cunt, her taste has him feral. she babbles mindlessly, her eyes rolled back; clit fat and stiff in his mouth.

and it takes him an hour or so to finally pull away from her pussy; she's a pile of overstimulated flesh, her plush little mouth parted and saliva dribbling down her chin, she looks like she's going to pass out but the only thing john does is push his thick, long cock into her pussy and fuck her into the carpet, her knees sliding and burning. this was a punishment after all.

[dmitriene]

cw: simon is a virgin and loves pussy.

simon riley as a virgin, not because he's inept, ugly, or so creepy that people shun him, it's just that he doesn't have much time to do all this — dating, or just promiscuous connections, he gives all of himself to work in the army, and after to rest, there's no place to get out to the nearest pub and flirt with someone, to end up in a small room of some motel with unknown body against his side.

this does not negate the fact that he has a certain skill, because even someone like him sometimes needs to relax, and you don't always need to use cock for this, personally, simon will never refuse the opportunity to eat some pussy, especially considering that this is a win for both him and the owner of the warm hole against his greedy, salivating mouth.

so when you start dating, and for simon it's begins when your meetings are not limited to one time hookup, and as you find yourself under his wide, muscular naked body, completely undressed, he informs you in indifferent grunt that he has never had sex with women, except for his tongue and fingers, but somehow, it feels like a lie as soon as he plugs you with his fat, girthy cock to the limit, your toes twisting after recently cumming down his throat.

his hurried, messy movements that turn into short humps and circling hips are justified by how hungry he looks and touches you, squeezing, playing, kneading your sensitive breasts and swollen, pebbling nipples, rubbing circles with the roughness of his calloused thumb against your clit, peeking under your hood, answering to simon's touch with small throbs and prolonged, broken keens from your mouth, before rolling the small bud till your spine arches.

everything about simon is exciting, flaring up the sharp, little stabbing lights in the pit of your flexing tummy, his ruggedness, the pale, variously shaped scars that paint his body, ridiculously and charmingly converging with small moles, padding layers of fat covering his wide chest and belly, all of which make you clench impatiently around his chubby, dripping cock, breaching your warm cunt inch by inch, throat rumbling at the sight of you.

simon realizes how much he missed when he's inside you completely, cock sheathed up to it's thick crown that juts against your sweet spot, and your hips squirming, canting to sink yourself down and up by yourself, his calloused hands raking down to clasp around the curve of your waist, squeezing, blunt nails sinking into the supple flesh, cramming his cock in, moaning, completely pussy drunk as his eyes threaten to roll back.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[babyybrii]

simon is the type of guy who remembers exactly how you take your tea, no matter how many months he’s been gone. the type of guy who comes home bloody and battered, but insists on washing his hands before letting you check on him, just so he can touch you while you fuss. the type to grunt “good girl” against your throat when you do exactly as he says. the type who fucks you slow just to hear you beg, dragging it out until you’re trembling under him. simon’s the type of guy who holds your throat with one hand while the other slides between your legs, voice rough when he tells you to “be a good girl and take it.” the type of guy who doesn’t say “i love you” often, but when he’s buried inside you, whispering ‘mine’ like a prayer and a warning, you know it’s carved into every scar on his body.

[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.

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again